“Sorry,” Jackson says, frowning a little at me as he continues to hold the plate out, his own dinner plate in his hand. “You…said to come for dinner. Should I…not have come?”
“N-no,” I stammer, taking the plate from him and shaking my head. “Of course, Jackson. Forgive me…I just…lost track of time.”
He shrugs, the corner of his lip turning up. “Happens to the best of us. So…” he says, straightening up and holding his plate with two hands, glancing over his shoulder at the packed room. “Where should we…”
I look with him, a little surprised to see all four of the usually chatty boys eating quietly, bent over their own textbooks. And then I scowl, realizing that there’s absolutely no room for Jackson and I to comfortably sit.
“Best plan,” Luca offers, glancing up towards us, “is probably
