Katherine Song Covey (Kitty) személy
“Then I’ll help you. Just give me an apron.”
I back away from him and start rummaging around for another apron. I find one with a cupcake print and hand it to him.
He makes a face and points at mine. “I want the one you’re wearing.”
“But it’s mine!” It’s red-and-white gingham with little brown bears; my grandma got it for me in Korea. “I always bake in this. Just wear that one.”
Slowly Peter shakes his head and holds out his hand. “Give me yours. You owe me for not reading any of my notes.”
I untie the apron and hand it over. I turn around and go back to my measuring. “You’re a bigger baby than Kitty.”
“Oh, I used to lie all the time as a kid.” I didn’t think of it as lying, though. I thought of it as playing make-believe. I told Kitty she was adopted and her real family was in a traveling circus. It’s why she took up gymnastics.
“You guys are eating pizza again?” Margot gives me and Daddy a disapproving look.
“Kitty’s going to stay tiny if you don’t feed her any green food.”
“Relax, Gogo, there’s peppers on this pizza,” I say, holding up my slice, and everybody laughs.
“How can you not know?”
“Because sometimes you just feel sad and you can’t explain it.”
Kitty cocks her head to the side. “PMS?”
I count the days since my last period. “No. It’s not PMS. Just because a girl is sad, it doesn’t mean it has anything to do with PMS.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say, though maybe it could be?
“Sure it’s that simple. He still likes you a lot – just tell him you still like him, too, and boom. You’re back together and it’ll be like you never kicked him out of our house.”
Haven’s eyes go even wider. “Lara Jean, you broke up with him?”
“Geez, is it so hard to believe?” I narrow my eyes at her, and Haven opens and then wisely closes her mouth.
“That’s Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet, in case you haven’t read it.”
“Don’t act high and mighty like you were reading Shakespeare. I saw you watching the movie on TV the other day.”
“Who cares if I read it or I saw the movie? The message is still the same.” Kitty crawls back up by me.
I pat her hair. “So what’s the message?”
“Don’t kill yourself over a boy.”
“Or a girl.”
“Or a girl,” she agrees.