Sam didn’t wait for me to speak. “Mom, Lizie’s eating with us.”

She said it like it wasn’t up for discussion.

I blinked, knife still in my hand. Dan looked from me to the girl and back.

The girl kept her eyes on the floor. Her sneakers were worn, and she held onto the straps of a faded purple backpack. I could see her ribs through the thin fabric of her shirt. She looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.

“Uh, hi there.” I tried to sound welcoming, but it came out thin. “Grab a plate, sweetheart.”

She hesitated. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely reaching across the table.

I watched her. She didn’t just eat—she rationed. One careful scoop of rice, one piece of chicken, two carrots. She flinched at every clink of silverware or scrape of a chair, tense like a startled animal.

Dan cleared his throat, stepping into peacemaker mode. “So, Lizie, right? How long have you known Sam?”

She shrugged, still looking down. “Since last year.”

Sam jumped in. “We have gym together. Lizie is the only one who can run the mile without complaining.”

That earned a tiny smile from Lizie. She reached for water, her hands trembling. She drank, refilled her glass, and drank again.

I glanced at Sam. Her cheeks were flushed. She was watching me, daring me to react.

I looked at the food, then at the girls. I did the math again—less chicken, more rice, maybe no one would notice.

Dinner stayed mostly quiet. Dan tried to fill the space. “How’s algebra treating you both?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Dad. Nobody likes algebra, and nobody talks about algebra at the dinner table.”

Lizie’s voice was soft when she spoke. “I like it,” she said. “I like patterns.”

Sam smirked. “Yeah, you’re the only one in our class.”

Dan chuckled, trying to lighten things. “I could’ve used you for my taxes last month, Lizie. Sam almost cost us our refund.”

“Dad!” Sam groaned, rolling her eyes.

After dinner, Lizie stood near the sink, unsure. Sam intercepted her, holding out a banana. “You forgot dessert, Liz.”

Lizie blinked. “Really? Are you sure?”

Sam pressed it into her hand. “House rule. Nobody leaves here hungry. Ask my Mom.”

Lizie held the banana tightly, gripping her backpack even harder. “Thank you,” she whispered, like she wasn’t sure she deserved it.

She lingered by the door, glancing back. Dan nodded. “Come back anytime, hon.”