“Um, sure,” Luke said. “Everybody, this is my brother, Smits.” He was proud of himself that he could get the words of that colossal lie out of his mouth so smoothly “Uh, Smits, this is They and, um, Robert and Joel and John….”

Smits nodded after each name and reached out his hand for each boy to shake. After some fumbling, Luke’s friends managed to think to stick their hands out as well. Luke wasn’t surprised by his friends’ awkwardness, but he felt strangely ashamed. Why couldn’t They have remembered to put down his fork before he reached out his hand? He’d splashed some of the slimy greens right onto Smits’s shirt And Smits only made it worse, pretending not to notice, just shaking hands right and left, smooth as a politician.

“Nice to meet you,” Smits said again and again. “Nice to meet you.”

Luke remembered what he’d thought when he’d first seen the picture of Smits — that Smits looked like a miniature grown-up. He acted like one, too. Or like a little robot, programmed to say what some stiff, formal grown-up would want a kid to say. Luke had half a mind to yell at him, “Oh, knock it off. Tell us all the truth. Why are you here?”

But of course he didn’t

“So,” Smits said when the introductions were finally over. “Is this a decent place? Lee here hasn’t told me a whole lot Doesn’t write home as much as Mom wants him to.” He gave Luke a playful punch on the arm and sort of winked at the rest of the boys. “I must say, I’ve found the staff quite accommodating.”

Luke figured They was the only one at the table who knew what “accommodating” meant That had to be the reason They actually opened his mouth.

“So they did let you have a private room,” They said. “And get the food you want.”

Smits looked down at the other boys’ meals.

“Sure,” he said. “Nobody could possibly be expected to eat that.”

Luke saw Joel and John silently put their forks down.