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.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Okay. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Never,” Dan said. “We always have room at our table.”

As soon as the door closed, my voice sharpened. “Sam, you can’t just bring people home. We’re barely getting by.”

Sam didn’t move. “She didn’t eat all day, Mom. How could I ignore that?”

I stared at her. “That doesn’t—”

“She almost fainted, Mom!” Sam shot back. “Her dad’s working nonstop. Their power got shut off last week. We’re not rich, but we can afford to eat.”

Dan placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Are you serious, Sammie?”

She nodded. “It’s bad, Dad. Today she passed out in gym. The teachers told her to eat better, but she only eats lunch—and not even every day.”

My anger faded. I sat down at the table, the room tilting slightly. “I… I was worried about stretching dinner. And she’s just trying to make it through the day… I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Sam met my eyes, stubborn but soft. “I told her to come back tomorrow.”

I let out a breath, defeated but proud. “Okay. Bring her back.”

The next day, I made extra pasta, nerves buzzing as I seasoned the meat. Lizie returned, hugging her bag. At dinner, she finished everything, then carefully wiped her spot at the table.

Dan asked, “You doing okay, Lizie?”

She nodded without looking at him.