Chapter 3The Missing Sixth

At lunch, Anders got seasick, and Brielle stayed by his side the entire time.

My stomach hurt so badly I couldn't eat, so I asked the server to bring me some plain oatmeal instead.

Preston laughed. "Clark, what's with you? You're feeling sick now too? Don't tell me you saw Anders getting seasick and decided to copy him."

The others laughed along with him.

Brielle looked up at me. "You've never had a problem on boats before."

"I didn't eat this morning. My stomach hurts a little."

But she had already looked away, handing Anders a glass of warm water. "Then just deal with it for now. Don't make things more difficult."

The server soon brought over a bowl of plain oatmeal.

I had just reached for it when Brielle pushed it toward Anders. "Try to eat a little."

My hand stopped in midair before I slowly pulled it back. I'd ordered that oatmeal, yet no one seemed to think there was anything wrong with what she'd done.

Anders took two bites before complaining that it was too bland. "I don't want any more."

He pushed the half-eaten bowl toward me. "Clark, didn't you say your stomach hurts? You can have it."

He'd already stirred the oatmeal into a mess. In the past, I probably would have eaten it anyway.

After all, Anders would always say, "We're best friends. What's mine is yours."

Brielle would praise me too, "Clark isn't fussy like other people. He's a real man."

But this time, I called the server over. "Could you please take this away?"

Anders's expression stiffened. "I barely touched it. Are you seriously that disgusted by me?"

"I don't eat other people's leftovers."

Brielle's face immediately darkened. "Clark, he feels awful, and he still thought to save the rest for you. Do you really have to embarrass him right now?"

I looked at the five people sitting across from me, and for a moment, everything felt strangely unreal.

All these years, they gave me whatever food they couldn't finish.

If there weren't enough seats at the table, I was the one told to move somewhere else.

If there wasn't enough room in the car, I was the one expected to get a ride on my own.

Whenever they needed someone to take pictures on a trip, that was when they remembered me.

But the moment I stopped going along with them, I was suddenly the problem—too sensitive, too petty, someone who couldn't take a joke.

I lowered my head. "Sorry."

Sure enough, everyone's expressions relaxed.

Duncan smiled. "That's more like it. We're on vacation. Just have fun."

I smiled too, but this time, I wasn't apologizing because I thought I'd done anything wrong. I just couldn't be bothered arguing with them anymore.