Page 91 of Best Friends for Never

“Who are you?” one of them asks.

“Stranger,” another answers.

“Bye,” the third says, trying to push the door closed, but the other girls are in the way.

“Miranda, Matilda, Mavis!” Parker calls, and I look up to find her jogging toward the door, grabbing it before they can shut it. “What’d we say about opening the door?”

“Don’t?” the one with pigtails asks, and I have to look away so the others don’t see my smile.

“That’s right. Don’t do that. It could be dangerous.”

“But it’s Emerald Grove. Daddy doesn’t even lock the doors.”

“I do, too, you little snitch!” Axel calls from somewhere inside.

Parker rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t,” she whispers to me, before shooing the kids away. “Go on, now. Go play.”

“Can we play with him?” A chubby finger is pointed my way, the girl’s ponytailwhooshingback and forth as she swings her head between Parker and me.

“Well, that’s entirely up to him,” Parker answers, peeking up at me.

I squat down to their level, waving with my free hand. “Hi. I’m Noel. It’s nice to meet you.”

They look to Parker for reassurance before stepping forward.

“I’m Miranda,” the ponytailed one announces. “Are you here to play with us?”

I chuckle. “Depends. What are we playing?”

“I’m Matilda!” the one with pigtails screeches, launching herself at me and throwing her arms around my neck, squeezing me tighter than I expect from a kid. “We can play dolls!”

“I’m not sure Noel would enjoy that,” Parker interjects.

“You kidding?” I say to Matilda. “I wouldloveto play dolls with you.”

I catch Parker’s smile from the corner of my eye, then look to the one who hasn’t spoken a single word.

“Hi.” I offer another wave to the one with red ringlets hanging down past her shoulders, a sparkly purple tutu, and bright-orange rain boots. “If these two are Miranda—”

“And Matilda!” she yells again with an infectious giggle.

I laugh. “And Matilda, then that must make you Mavis.”

She grins, a dimple appearing in each cheek. “IamMavis, and I like turtles.”

“You do? Do you know a lot about them?”

“I knoweverythingabout turtles.”

“Well, then, you’re definitely going to have to tell me about them at dinner.”

“I promise.” She sticks her pinkie finger out, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she wants.

I loop my own little finger around hers, and we shake on it.

I rise to my feet and look down at the brown-eyed kids. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, may I come inside?”

Two of the three erupt into cheers. Matilda grabs my free hand, while Miranda tugs on my pants leg. Mavis leads the way, which I find funny, because I have no doubt this kid is likely the quiet leader of the bunch.

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