Episode 6: “So, there’s a cooking showdown at my house…”

October 17th, Sunday.

Despite being completely exhausted after yesterday’s half-day practice, Akira and I still managed to finish our morning run as usual before spending the rest of the morning in the living room, practicing our lines until nearly noon.

Hinata-chan was scheduled to come over later so the two of them could practice together.

By this point, Akira had already memorized Romeo’s entire part. She’d even delved deep into the other characters’ lines. She seemed to have nearly mastered Juliet’s dialogue, which involved quite a bit of back-and-forth with Romeo.As for me, practicing alongside Akira had helped me get Romeo’s lines down perfectly.

Even after Akira went to bed each night, I’d secretly watch the DVD that Takeru-san had given me, imitating the movements and expressions. I figured this way, I might be able to offer Akira some useful advice on her acting.

With both of us becoming so absorbed in the play, the manga on our bookshelf and the game consoles in the living room were starting to look somewhat neglected and lonely.

A little past noon, the intercom chimed.

Miyuki-san hurried to the front door with quick, pattering steps.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ueda Hinata.”

“Oh my, you must be Hinata-chan! I’m Miyuki. Akira’s always in your care.”

“Oh no, it’s actually me who’s always being taken care of by Akira-san and Ryouta-senpai.”

“Well, we can’t have you standing around talking at the door like this. Please, come on in.”

“Yes, excuse me for intruding.”

I could hear this polite exchange drifting from the entrance.

“Akira, Hinata-chan’s here.”

“Yeah, got it—”

Akira closed her script and headed toward the entrance.

“What about you, Aniki? What are you doing after this?”

“I’m going to the public bath with Dad. It’s been a while, so I thought we’d wash each other’s backs.”

After exchanging a quick greeting with Hinata-chan, I headed out to the bathhouse with Dad.

＊　　　　　　＊　　　　　　＊

Dad and I returned a little after four-thirty.

Right after we got home, Dad and Miyuki-san announced they were going out shopping and to dinner together. They called it a date, but as their kid, that word just didn’t sit right with me somehow. I figured they could use some alone time as a couple once in a while, so I thoughtfully told them I’d handle dinner casually on my own.

After Dad and the others left, I headed up to the second floor with the cream puffs and drinks I’d bought as a treat on the way home.

“I’m home. I bought cream puffs—”

“Welcome back, Aniki. Thanks.”

“Thank you for having me, Ryouta-senpai.”

I tried to hand the box of cream puffs to Akira, but she made a sort of ambiguous expression.

“Hmm, but you know~…”

“What’s up?”

“Actually, Mom prepared some snacks for us a little while ago.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“No, my stomach’s starting to feel a bit empty, but if I eat now, then dinner…” She trailed off, clearly torn.

Eating something at this time would make it hard to eat dinner properly, I suppose. I should have come back a little earlier.

Then Akira seemed to have a sudden inspiration. “That’s it!”

“Let’s prepare tonight’s dinner a bit early, and we can give these cream puffs to Hinata-chan as a souvenir.”

“Yeah, sounds good. So Hinata-chan, take them home with you when you go.”

“Eh? I couldn’t possibly…”

“It’s fine. There are exactly two, so take them and eat them with Kousei.”

“Is that really okay? Then I’ll gladly accept them. Thank you, Senpai.”

I left just the drinks and was about to leave the room when Akira called out to me.

“Aniki, what about dinner?”

“I’ll prepare it. You two keep practicing until the end—”

But then Akira grabbed my arm with a mischievous smile.

“Ehehehe, then how about I make it for you?”

I couldn’t help but make a slightly reluctant face at her suggestion.

“No, it’s fine. Miyuki-san probably left something prepared in the fridge. I’ll just heat that up.”

“I said I’ll make it. You’ve always been taking care of me.”

“I’m just meddling on my own—you don’t need to worry about it at all, Akira.”

“No, no, that’s exactly why I want to cook for you as a thank you—”

“No, no, like I said, there’s no need for thanks—”

As we went back and forth like this, Akira’s cheeks puffed up in an adorable pout.

“Aniki, are you saying you can’t stomach my home cooking?”

“It’s not that. It’s not that at all…”

I absolutely wasn’t saying Akira was a bad cook. If anything, I’d tried the vegetable stir-fry she’d made once before. Honestly, it was delicious—the vegetable stir-fry seasoning was, anyway.

By the way, here’s how Akira makes vegetable stir-fry:

① Fry the pork bits in a frying pan with oil. (No seasoning at all)

② Add the vegetable mix from the supermarket’s produce section to ①. (No knife needed)

③ Once ② is cooked through, season only with vegetable stir-fry mix. (One seasoning)

④ Plate it up and done. (Actually, putting the frying pan right on a pot holder is fine too.)

Sure, that qualified as cooking, but something about it felt subtly off… It was a home-cooked meal that skipped all extra effort and seasonings—or rather, it was more like a time-saving convenience meal. But could a time-saving meal still be considered home cooking?

I wasn’t sure if my expectations were too high or if my concept of home cooking was outdated, but I still couldn’t quite accept it as proper home cooking. If I were to give it a manga-style title, it would be something like “Akira’s Lazy Meals.”

“Aniki, you ate my vegetable stir-fry before and said it was delicious, didn’t you?”

“I did eat it, and it was good. But it didn’t quite satisfy my heart.”

“What’s with that poetic way of putting it! Do you have any complaints about my cooking?”

“No complaints at all. If anything, I’m grateful to the maker of that vegetable stir-fry seasoning.”

“Be grateful to me!”

As we continued this exchange, Hinata raised her hand with an awkward laugh.

“Um, if it’s okay, how about I help too?”

““Eh?””

“You two are always taking care of me.”

Hinata-chan’s home cooking—that’s it! This could be exactly what I needed.

“Um, that would be asking quite a lot of you, Hinata-chan… But if it’s really okay with you, please!”

“Hey, Aniki!”

I’d heard from Kousei before that Hinata-chan often helped with housework and made meals with her mother. Kousei had described the taste as “normal,” but asking him for a culinary opinion was my mistake in the first place.

Maybe if I experienced Hinata-chan’s cooking, my doubts about what constituted true home cooking would finally be resolved. This was, essentially, for Akira’s benefit. By watching Hinata-chan cook, perhaps Akira could develop a better understanding of what home cooking should really be like.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Hinata-chan employed the same kind of shortcuts—I mean, time-saving methods—as Akira, but somehow “Hinata-chan’s Lazy Meals” was difficult to imagine. I was certain Hinata-chan would create the kind of authentic home cooking I was looking for.

“Yes! I’m good at cooking, so please leave it to me.”

“Then we’ll gladly accept your help—”

“Wai——-t just a minute!”

Akira pouted and stepped squarely between Hinata-chan and me.

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

“Aniki, you’re saying you can’t eat my cooking, but you want to eat Hinata-chan’s?”

“No, Akira, it’s just that once in a while—”

“In that case, I’ll show you my serious side!”

“Serious…?”

With dramatic flair, Akira pointed sharply at Hinata-chan.

“So, Hinata-chan, it’s a cooking showdown!”

““…Eh?””

Oh man, this situation was starting to look pretty dicey…

＊　　　　　　＊　　　　　　＊

As I watched the two girls bustling around in their aprons, I pondered how things had escalated to this point.

I had to admit my approach and attitude had been problematic. But telling Akira directly, “For your own good, watch Hinata-chan’s home cooking and learn from it,” seemed a bit too harsh. It might end up crushing Akira’s pride completely.

In that case, having them compete—though the winner seemed fairly obvious at first glance—could serve as a catalyst for Akira to awaken to the art of proper home cooking.

But what was this uneasy feeling gnawing at me? For some reason, my palms had been clammy with nervous sweat for a while now.

Was it because Akira had declared she’d show her serious side, or because this would be my first time tasting Hinata-chan’s cooking? I couldn’t pinpoint the source of my anxiety, but I had an ominous premonition that something significant was about to unfold.

About an hour later…

“Then I’ll go first.”

Ueda Hinata stepped forward and placed her creation on the table.

“Omelette rice♪”

But this wasn’t just any ordinary omelette rice.

“This is the kind where the chicken rice is properly wrapped inside the omelette!”

“Yes. I heard from my brother that Ryouta-senpai prefers the wrapped style over the one with fluffy scrambled eggs on top.”

At this point, it seemed like victory was clearly leaning toward Hinata-chan.

This beautifully presented omelette rice, with the chicken rice neatly encased within the golden omelette, made me hesitate to even touch it with my spoon. The colorful vegetables garnishing the side of the plate added a lovely touch, stimulating the appetite not only through aroma but also through visual appeal.

It was restaurant-quality omelette rice, but there was more—

“Ah, Ryouta-senpai, wait! I forgot something important!”

“Something important?”

Hinata-chan hurried back from the kitchen carrying something.

“I meant to finish it with ketchup and forgot. Senpai, would it be okay if—”

She began drizzling ketchup over the omelette rice with practiced movements. From somewhere, I could swear I heard a soft “Become delicious, become delicious♪,” though that was probably just an auditory hallucination created by my overactive imagination.

What emerged from her careful ketchup artistry was, surprisingly, a perfect heart shape.

Contemplating the meaning behind that heart symbol, I felt my own heart give an unexpected flutter. Just how much “heart-racing ingredient” did this girl need to incorporate into her cooking before she’d be satisfied?

“Here, please try it now.”

“Ah, yeah… Then, itadakimasu.”

Finally, the moment of truth had arrived.

I hesitantly scooped a small portion from the edge of the omelette rice and brought it to my mouth. The flavor was—

“This is incredible! This is absolutely delicious, Hinata-chan!”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s just omelette rice, you know?”

Hinata-chan hid her bright red face behind the serving tray.

No, this definitely wasn’t “just” omelette rice. This was “Hinata-chan’s handmade omelette rice with love.”

With appearance, aroma, taste, and that heart-fluttering element all perfectly combined in this masterpiece, my chest felt fuller than my stomach ever could. This was exactly what I’d been seeking—the very essence of true home cooking.

As I continued eating the omelette rice, I felt like I’d finally found my answer. Indeed, I hadn’t been wrong in my assessment. My heart trembled with joy at having this fundamental truth about home cooking reaffirmed.

As a side note, I couldn’t help but think that Kousei, who casually ate this kind of masterpiece while dismissing it as “normal,” didn’t deserve to experience Hinata-chan’s home cooking.

Before I knew it, I’d finished every last bite. While it was somewhat regrettable that it was gone, I felt like I’d just experienced one of the most blissful moments of my entire life.

“Gochisousama.”

“It was nothing special.”

Now, with both my heart and stomach completely satisfied, I’d escort Hinata-chan to the station—

“Wai—t just a minute. Aniki, where exactly do you think you’re going?”

Akira firmly grasped my shoulder as I attempted to stand up.

“Wh-what is it…?”

“My ‘home cooking’ is still waiting to be tasted, you know…?”

“R-right, of course…”

The dangerous undertone lurking behind Akira’s sweet smile sent a chill down my spine. I’d been hoping to remain immersed in this blissful mood just a little longer…

“Now then, Aniki, please go ahead and try my cooking.”

The dish Akira placed on the table next was—

“Ta-da!”

“This is…? No, seriously, what exactly is this…?”

I was utterly bewildered.

What Akira had prepared was nothing more than plain white rice. White rice… just white rice? Only white rice?

“Akira, what exactly am I looking at here?”

“As you can see, it’s white rice.”

I was genuinely dumbfounded. Did this mean that during this entire hour, Akira had simply been waiting for the rice cooker to finish its cycle? At this rate, the outcome of this match had been decided before it even began—

“You don’t think this is the end of it, do you, Aniki?”

“What? There’s more?”

“Aniki, what do you think pairs best with freshly cooked white rice?”

“Well… probably strongly flavored side dishes or—”

Wait a minute. No way!

“Fufufu! Then feast your eyes on this!”

With theatrical flourish, Akira placed several mysterious dishes on the table: some kind of stir-fry, some kind of soup, and some kind of side dish.

These were all completely unfamiliar creations I’d never encountered in my life. Apparently, Akira had prepared all of these items during that single hour. While Hinata-chan had concentrated all her efforts on perfecting one exquisite omelette rice, Akira had opted for a quantity-over-quality strategy.

However, such thinking was naive. As the old saying goes, one elite warrior is worth a thousand foot soldiers. A small group of exceptional fighters far surpasses a mere gathering of average troops. History had proven this time and again.

“So, which should I start with?”

“How about the soup first?”

“Right, then…”

I took a tentative sip of the soup, but—

“This tastes familiar! It’s that reliable wakame soup flavor!”

“That’s because it’s instant soup powder mixed with hot water.”

“I see… Wait, hey! That’s not cooking!”

I couldn’t help but retort, but Akira simply grinned without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“Aniki, look more carefully. Those mini gyoza floating in the soup don’t come with the instant wakame soup mix.”

“You’re right… So these gyoza are…?”

“Yep! I microwaved some frozen mini gyoza and added them in.”

“I see, that’s a perfect combination… Hey! Once again, that’s not cooking!”

“It’s proper cooking, isn’t it? I took plain instant wakame soup, added microwaved frozen gyoza, and finished it with tube garlic for a ‘hands-on’ home-cooked touch.”

Even though she’d merely combined ready-made convenience products, why did she look so incredibly proud of herself?

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about… What I mean by home cooking is something more ‘elaborate’…”

“I put in more effort than usual, you know?”

This complete reversal of conventional cooking wisdom was truly Akira’s specialty—her signature “Lazy Meals” approach.

“No, I mean, not according to Akira’s unique standards, that’s not what I…”

“Come on, Aniki. Next, try adding a bit of that paste from the small dish.”

“Hm? What’s this stuff?”

“Just do it.”

Following her instructions, I added the reddish-brown paste to the soup. When I took another sip—

“It’s spicy and delicious! What is this, Korean-style? This is going to make me devour mountains of rice!”

As if possessed by some culinary spirit, I found myself alternating between spoonfuls of the soup and shoveling white rice into my mouth. I’d just finished Hinata-chan’s omelette rice not long ago, but before I realized it, the rice in my bowl had dwindled to barely a third.

“What on earth is this magical paste?”

“Ehehehe, it’s gochujang. Isn’t it convenient how it instantly transforms anything into Korean flavor?”

Unbelievable. Himeno Akira hadn’t engaged in any real cooking whatsoever, yet with just one bowl of soup, she’d managed to get me to consume this much white rice…

“But Akira, this feels like cheating. I still can’t accept this as your genuine home-cooked meal.”

“I figured you’d say that, so I did make something properly. Now try that brown side dish over there.”

“Th-this one?”

Visually, it appeared to be nothing more than ground meat and bean sprouts that had been turned brown through cooking.

“What exactly is this?”

“Just take a bite first.”

“Okay…”

As I brought it to my mouth, I discovered that the ground meat and bean sprouts had been stir-fried to perfection, with the meat juices mingling harmoniously with yakiniku sauce for a sweet and spicy rendezvous on my tongue. The satisfying crunch of the bean sprouts added textural contrast that brought everything together beautifully. However—

“The taste is… normal, or rather, a bit too intense…”

It tasted exactly as it appeared, which was surprising in its own peculiar way.

“It mostly just tastes like yakiniku sauce. What is this dish?”

“This is one of my serious creations: ‘Ground Meat Bean Sprout Donburi’!”

“That name is… remarkably straightforward…”

“Listen to the name again carefully. Ground meat, bean sprouts, donburi!”

Ground meat, bean sprouts, donburi…?

“It’s a donburi dish!?”

In that instant, the complete flavor profile of ground meat bean sprout donburi crystallized in my mind. What would happen if this savory mixture of ground meat and bean sprouts, thoroughly coated in a slightly intense yakiniku sauce, were combined with steaming white rice?

“Come on, Aniki, just pile it right on top of the white rice.”

“Gah! But I don’t have enough rice left to make a proper donburi…”

“There’s plenty more rice. Aniki, would you like seconds?”

“Ugh!?”

“Se-con-ds! Want some?”

“Fgh!”

“You want some, don’t you? Come on, just say it.”

With a devilish smile that somehow managed to look angelic at the same time, Himeno Akira beamed at me expectantly.

“S-seconds…”

There was absolutely no way I could resist this overwhelming temptation…

Needless to say, I ended up devouring the ground meat bean sprout donburi with gusto.

Incidentally, the final dish turned out to be supermarket potato salad from the refrigerator, wrapped in ham and topped with cheese before being baked until golden. That combination paired amazingly well with white rice too.

Most shocking of all, Himeno Akira had created all three dishes without using a single knife, relying only on the microwave and stovetop. I’d underestimated her cooking as mere amateur-level fare, but it was like arming trained foot soldiers with advanced matchlock rifles to create an elite rifle squadron.

If this were the Sengoku period, she could have unified all of Japan with ease.

Bravo, lazy meals. I had to admit grudging respect for her unconventional approach.

So who was the victor in this cooking showdown?

From the perspective of traditional home-cooked meals, Ueda Hinata seemed to hold an overwhelming advantage. But even after experiencing Ueda Hinata’s heavenly omelette rice, I had shamefully ended up polishing off three entire bowls of white rice with Himeno Akira’s questionable interpretation of home cooking.

Honestly, it had been delicious, but something about the whole experience left me feeling unsettled.

We declared it a draw, but the real loser in this situation was undoubtedly me. I’d completely surrendered to both Ueda Hinata’s angelic, adorable, blissful cooking and Himeno Akira’s devilish, dangerously addictive dishes.

Incidentally, afterward, Himeno Akira and Ueda Hinata sampled each other’s food, praised one another enthusiastically, and ended up exchanging recipes. Personally, I couldn’t imagine Himeno Akira successfully making omelette rice, and I certainly wouldn’t want Ueda Hinata adopting lazy meal techniques anyway…

＊　　　　　　＊　　　　　　＊

After the cooking showdown concluded, I walked Ueda Hinata to the station.

“Ugh… I ate way too much…”

“Are you okay, Senpai? You didn’t have to walk me if you’re feeling unwell…”

“Nah, I’m fine. Walking should help with digestion…”

As we strolled along, I gradually settled my overstuffed stomach. We chatted about nothing in particular, and we were almost at the station when Ueda Hinata suddenly giggled softly.

“Fufu.”

“What’s up?”

“I was just thinking about you and Himeno Akira earlier. And, hmm, so that’s how it is…”

Ueda Hinata seemed to be pondering something deeply.

“What’s wrong?”

“So that’s how Himeno Akira acts at home? It surprised me since she doesn’t show that side of herself at school at all.”

“Hinata-chan, was this your first time seeing Himeno Akira in ‘home mode’?”

“Um, what exactly is ‘home mode’?”

I explained Himeno Akira’s behavioral patterns to Ueda Hinata—how I referred to her shyness around others as ‘borrowed cat mode,’ and how at home she displayed a completely different personality that never emerged at school.

Ueda Hinata murmured quietly, “That’s wonderful.”

“Himeno Akira must really trust you from the bottom of her heart, Senpai.”

“Y-you think so?”

“Absolutely. She doesn’t act like that at school, so she must be completely at ease with you.”

She might be a little too at ease, actually, but it seemed that’s how the situation appeared to Ueda Hinata as well.

“You have such a generous heart, Senpai, and you’re so reliable. That’s why I feel envious. My family isn’t like that at all—”

Suddenly, Ueda Hinata’s expression darkened considerably.

“I wonder how I could get along with my brother the way you two do…”

That was somewhat difficult to respond to appropriately.

“Our family might not be the best reference point, you know? After all, we’re step-siblings…”

I said this with a wry smile, but Ueda Hinata looked somewhat dejected.

“If you were my big brother, Majima-senpai— wait, that would be rude to my actual brother, wouldn’t it? Ahaha, what am I even saying?”

“Um—”

“Really, what am I thinking…”

“Hinata-chan…”

She seemed to be forcing a cheerful expression, but her face grew somber again.

“Do you remember when I invited you to eat together before?”

“Yeah, I remember…”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about my brother, Majima-senpai.”

“About Kousei?”

So that’s what it had been about. I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

“What kind of advice were you looking for?”

“I was wondering how to get my brother back to the way he used to be…”

Ueda Hinata’s expression became so heartbreakingly sad that it made my chest ache.

“I must have been doing everything wrong…”

“Huh? What do you mean, wrong?”

“You know my brother used to be a child actor in television dramas, right, Senpai?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard a little about that…”

“I’ve always looked up to him. Back when he was acting, he was so hardworking, radiant, and such a kind big brother. I wanted to be just like him, so I begged Mom to let me attend a training school.”

“I see…”

“But he quit acting in fourth grade. I don’t know what happened, and he won’t tell me anything about it. Ever since then, he’s been avoiding me completely.”

“I haven’t heard anything from Kousei about it either…”

“I kept thinking about how to get him back to being hardworking, radiant, and kind like he was before—”

Ueda Hinata stopped walking abruptly.

“So I joined the drama club in middle school after quitting the training school, thinking that if I worked hard at acting, maybe he’d start trying again too and return to his old self.”

“So you joined the drama club for Kousei’s sake…”

“But like my brother always says, I’m stupid, so I didn’t realize…”

Ueda Hinata’s shoulders began trembling.

Still, she clenched her small fists tightly, desperately trying not to cry.

“All this time, I’ve been shoving things in his face that he didn’t want to see. He was suffering, and I was making him relive painful memories…”

Finally, tears began spilling from her eyes.

Seeing her like this, I wondered desperately if there was anything I could do to help this girl. If there was something, anything, within my power…

So I asked her this question:

“Why did you take the role of Juliet this time?”

“That’s—”

She looked thoughtful, but I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

“It wasn’t for Kousei’s sake this time—it was because you genuinely wanted to do it yourself, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the truth… I love acting. But if it causes my brother pain, it terrifies me…”

So that’s how it was.

The joyful expressions Ueda Hinata sometimes displayed during rehearsals were different from her usual demeanor when she was with us. During those moments, she looked truly happy, almost as if she were dancing—that’s how it appeared to my eyes.

For Ueda Hinata, acting was something she truly wanted to pursue.

She’d started it thinking she could be like her brother, but before she knew it, she’d become completely captivated by it. However, she cared too much about Kousei and ended up suppressing what she really wanted to do.

That “just this once” permission from Nishiyama might have been a convenient excuse offered to Ueda Hinata as an easy way out of her internal conflict.

But there was one crucial thing Ueda Hinata was misunderstanding.

“You’re underestimating Kousei far too much, Hinata-chan.”

“Huh…?”

“He’s not that fragile. I don’t think he’s as bound by his past as you imagine.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“When you asked if it was okay to participate in the play this time, he said, ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with me, right?’”

“Yeah, I made him angry…”

“Kousei wasn’t angry. To me, it sounded more like, ‘Ignore me and do what you want.’ Not in a careless way—I think he knew you really wanted to pursue drama.”

When the topic of drama came up during Ueda Hinata’s conversation with him, I had been watching Kousei’s facial expressions carefully.

Kousei probably understood that Ueda Hinata had been holding herself back from drama because of him. He knew she’d quit the training school because of him and felt guilty about it—that’s why he wore that sour expression, I realized now.

Unsociable, unmotivated, clumsy, lazy—these were just surface characteristics. Deep down, he cared about the people around him more than anyone else.

I might be viewing Kousei through rose-colored glasses, but after four years of friendship, that’s the kind of person I believe him to be.

“Senpai, you’re giving my brother far too much credit…”

“Like Kousei says, I’m an idiot, so that’s the only way I can interpret his behavior. He might be clumsy and difficult to understand, though.”

“I wish my brother would talk to me properly the way you do, Senpai…”

She said this with a gentle smile.

“Well, I may be an idiot, but—”

I decided to borrow Kousei’s own words.

“That guy’s a fool.”

Seriously, making such a wonderful little sister this miserable…

After that conversation, whether Ueda Hinata had genuinely cheered up or was simply putting on a brave face, she thanked me warmly before disappearing beyond the ticket gate.

When I returned home, Himeno Akira was standing imposingly at the entrance with her arms crossed.

“Aniki, you’re awfully late coming back. Leaving your adorable little sister all alone like that—explain exactly what you were doing with Hinata-chan.”

“Nothing much… Just some casual conversation—”

“While I was here feeling lonely, washing dishes all by myself—I see, so you were having a nice chat with Hinata-chan, were you, Aniki…”

“Ah, thanks for cleaning up… Well, I need to work on my school assignments—”

“Hey, pay proper attention to your sister!”

“I am paying attention! I always do!”

“Not nearly enough!”

“What era are you from!? Anyway, get off me! Don’t cling to me like that!”

—Somehow, I was grateful that my stepsister was such an easy-to-understand type of person.