It was now Friday, and since that last Tuesday, the duo had kept sitting at their table.
He's surprised by how quickly he's gotten used to having Travis nearby, but he's also self-aware enough to know it's mostly because Penguin sits between them unintentionally acting as a buffer.
They'd integrated surprisingly well into the group. Penguin especially. She slotted herself into their rhythm so naturally it was almost hard to believe she'd ever sat anywhere else. Even Travis — grudging, awkward, and still himself — was managing to avoid most of his usual attitude.
He figured it helped that Travis had actually apologized. Sal told him he'd cornered him after lunch on Wednesday, and whatever he said must've worked. The next day, Travis sat down with them, looking like he was trying to force himself through a task he'd rather avoid. His shoulders were stiff, his eyes darting around the table, but when he finally met each of their gazes, the words came out — halting and uneven, but clear enough to understand. For a second, it seemed like he might clam up entirely, his hand already halfway to his neck in an old nervous habit, but then he'd seen Penguin give him the smallest nudge under the table. Nothing dramatic, just her knee tapping against his, but it was enough to keep him moving forward.
By the time he'd stumbled through the last apology, the tension in his posture had eased, just barely. It wasn't perfect, but it was honest. Larry wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Travis look that earnest before.
Ash, of course, still didn't trust him completely, but she hadn't gone out of her way to pick fights either. Todd had been polite, Sal kept giving Travis the benefit of the doubt, and Larry... Well, he wasn't going to cause trouble unless Travis started it first.
But really, he hadn't been thinking much about him at all.
Penguin, on the other hand? She'd been on his mind a lot.
In those few days of sitting together at lunch, they'd learned a lot about each other.
Larry learned she only moved to Nockfell last year before school started, coming all the way from Texas. She spent only three years there, and before that, she'd spent most of her life in Puerto Rico. It explained her last name and the way she sometimes forgot or stumbled over words or said them wrong.
Like that time she called it sal-mon instead of sammon. Or the time she forgot the word tray and spent a couple of seconds just making aggressive motions toward it as he named the items on the tray before she blurted out bandage. She'd looked so disappointed after, mumbling that in Spanish it was bandeja.
Other times, she'd talk too fast and mash up her words, only to pause, look annoyed, and repeat herself slower to get it right.
He thought it was cute.
On the other hand, he'd told her about himself. How his mom's side of the family was from Spain and how he'd always thought it'd be cool to visit someday. He mentioned he knew a little bit of spanish, mostly the basics, and that had sent the conversation spinning off course.
She'd started quizzing him right away, asking what words or phrases he knew, and he'd done his best to repeat them, even if his pronunciation made her face scrunch up like she'd bitten into a lemon. He'd tried not to laugh at her exaggerated expressions but couldn't help the grin that tugged at his face. When she promised to teach him properly, he'd just shrugged, a little amused but not entirely opposed to the idea.
Not that it came without warnings. She'd explained that Spain's spanish wasn't the same as Puerto Rican spanish, so if he wasn't careful, he might end up sounding weird — or worse, saying something completely wrong. He'd grinned through the whole thing, finding it hard to care much when her voice lit up like that.
One time he went back home and talked to his mom about what he'd learned, and when he casually dropped a word Penguin had taught him, she clutched her pearls so hard like he'd cursed at her horribly. Penguin had almost laughed herself sick when he told her. She promised she hadn't set him up, swearing it meant something totally normal back home, but he still made her repeat it in case she was pulling his leg.
When they went back to sharing, he told her it was just him and his mom. She, in turn, shared that it was her, her little brother, and their mom. Unlike him, though, it was because her parents had separated when she was younger, and when they moved, her dad obviously didn't come with them. She told him that they sent letters back and forth and called when they could afford it, plus she and her brother went back to the island during the summer to spend time with his side of the family.
He was honestly a little jealous of that, of how her dad still tried, even from such a large distance. But he wasn't petty enough to 'one-up' her with the fact that his dad had just up and left without so much as a goodbye.
She also revealed she liked to bake, which wasn't much of a surprise, considering how much she lit up when talking about it. Cakes seemed to be her specialty — cupcakes, red velvet, and something called tres leches, which she explained was a super soft cake soaked in three kinds of milk. Larry had never heard of it before, but the way she described it made it sound intense. She'd even mentioned she could make it for him sometime, so casually he almost didn't catch it.
Bread, on the other hand, was apparently her nemesis. She hadn't tried it yet, claiming it looked too tedious to bother with. Kneading and waiting for dough to rise? Not worth it. Frosting, though, was another story. It was, as she put it, a pain in her ass to whip up, but she put up with it because it tasted so good. The mental image of her in the kitchen, cursing at a bowl of frosting and stubbornly making it anyway, stuck with him for a while after.
Before he could think any longer about that, a loud tapping caught his attention and the attention of everyone else at the table. Turning his head, he saw Sally tapping on the table, signaling for them to focus on him.
"So, weekend plans, anyone?" he asked, his voice cutting through the steady hum of the lunchroom.
That set off a round of negatives from the group, though Travis responded with, "I have church early Saturday and pretty much all of Sunday."
Penguin sighed, her shoulders slumping as she added, "I promised to join him at church on Sunday evening."
"Really? You go to church?" Ash asked, an eyebrow raised, and yeah, he was wondering about that, too.
"No, I'm pretty sure I'll burst into flames when I walk in," she laughed, despite the horrified look on Travis' face, "But, he did me a favor, and I promised I'd go at least once."
"Even if it'd be your last time?" he joked.
"Yeah, exactly! If I explode at the entrance, he knows it's not his fault."
He snorted, imagining Penguin strolling up to the ministry doors only to explode the moment she stepped inside. The look on Travis' face was priceless as he clamped his hands over her shoulders and shook her vigorously, hissing something about how she wasn't that unholy to die at the doors. Penguin, on the other hand, seemed to find it hilarious, though he noticed how she gently squeezed Travis' wrists and reassured him she was only joking.
God, how he wished he had what they had. The only reason he wasn't more jealous was, well, she was still leaving him gifts, and the way she looked at Travis wasn't even close to the way he's caught her looking at him.
"Okay, ignoring exploding at churches," Todd interrupted, leaning forward to address Sally, "are you actually planning anything?"
"Well," he started, tilting his head toward Larry, "I was thinking we could all hang out at the apartments. Your room's the biggest, so we can just pile in there."
"And what made you think you can just loan out my room? Hm? You pay rent now?" He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, pressing his hands flat against the table like he was ready to argue.
"You don't even have rent."
"That's beside the point."
That set off a round of laughs across the table, but Larry was immediately and embarrassingly aware of one in particular — hers. Then again, she was sitting right next to him, so maybe it wasn't too weird that her laugh stood out. Still, it was loudest in his head, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.
"It does sound like a good idea," Ash said, leaning in with her chin propped on her hands and a smug look aimed straight at him. "We could even invite our two newest members to see the state of your room."
He laughed automatically, but the sound felt hollow the second the words registered.
Penguin?
In his room?
Was Ash trying to give him a heart attack?
Because it sure felt like it.
His room was— God, what was his room? A mess? Definitely. Half-finished paintings leaning against the walls, brushes and tubes of paint shoved into jars and cups, clothes piled high on his laundry basket or thrown over his shelves. He was sure there were at least two sketchbooks open and face-down on the carpet, and his bed was… well, it was mostly made, but the comforter had some suspicious-looking blotches of acrylic paint from when he'd forgotten to wash his hands before flopping down on it.
And Penguin — she'd see all of that.
He tried to imagine her there, standing by his dresser or sitting on his bed, looking at his posters or, oh God, looking at his unfinished paintings. Would she think it was cool? Messy? Too much?
Maybe he could shove everything into his closet before then. Or under the bed. Or out the back door.
He risked a glance at her.
Bad idea.
She wasn't even looking at him, not directly, but she was definitely flustered. She kept playing with her fingers, eyes bouncing between him and the others, cheeks pink, and — yeah, that made it so much worse.
She was nervous about the idea too. And for some reason, that didn't make him feel better. It made his heart start hammering even harder, like he'd just been handed the responsibility of keeping her comfortable and making sure he didn't completely humiliate himself.
He hoped the absolutely betrayed look he sent Ash shared his sentiments on that idea.
From the way her grin was all teeth, she got the message loud and clear and was enjoying every second of it.
"I think it'll be fun," said Todd, who was obviously trying and failing to bite back a laugh. His eyes flicked around the table, and yeah, everyone else looked at least a little smug or amused. Even Chug and Maple, who usually kept things more neutral, had matching grins that made his stomach drop.
But the worst part?
The worst part was Travis.
The smug bastard was sitting right next to Penguin, smirking like he'd just figured out the world's biggest secret. His eyes flicked between Larry's panicked expression and Penguin's flaming red cheeks, and Larry could tell — he knew — that Travis had pieced it together. All of it.
And Penguin wasn't helping.
She was scowling at Travis, her cheeks somehow growing even redder as she shoved at his arm, but all it did was make him laugh under his breath, like he was enjoying the show. Larry couldn't even look at her without his face heating up, and the second he glanced her way, his brain just about short-circuited. She looked so flustered — so unfairly cute — and he couldn't decide if that made him want to crawl under the table or kick Travis in the shin for having way too much fun with their mutual embarrassment.
"Okay, so Larry's place?" Sal cut in, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "What time?"
He opened his mouth to protest, but Penguin beat him to it.
"Wait — like, after school? Today?" She asked, finally peeling her glare off Travis and looking toward Sal instead.
"Yeah, unless that's too soon?"
"No, no, it's fine!" She sat up straighter, brushing her hair out of her face. "I just, uh, I'll need to tell mama, but yeah, that works."
"Same," Travis added, and he tried not to bristle at how easily he said it — because, for a second, he'd actually forgotten Travis was coming too.
"You say 'same' like I'm not the one who's gonna have to talk to your dad so he'll let you come," She shot back, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms.
Travis winced, and he almost felt bad for him. He remembered enough from when they were friends to know Mr. Phelps wasn't exactly easy to deal with.
"Wait, why do you need to talk to his dad?" Ash asked, tilting her head like she was already suspicious.
Penguin shrugged. "Because, for some reason, he likes me." Then, deepening her voice, she said, "'You're such a well-mannered and polite girl. I'm happy my son has a friend like you.'"
Ash barked out a laugh at the impression, but Travis just groaned, slumping forward onto the table. "'Why don't you find a nice girl like her, Travis? It would do you good.'"
He couldn't stop himself from snorting at Travis's disgusted tone and the duo's twin shudders, though Penguin also let out a laugh. "Don't look so offended," she teased. "Dating me can't be that bad."
Travis lifted his head just enough to glare at her. "You bit me last week."
"You put your finger in my face!"
"Because you stole my fries!"
"Well, what was I supposed to do? Not bite you?!"
"Okay, children, calm down," Todd cut in, holding up a hand like he was trying to referee before the argument spiraled any further. Travis scowled at the interruption, but Penguin honest-to-god pouted.
"Anyway," she said, not missing a beat, "I'll have to drive to Trav's house and then mine before heading over. My mama's probably gonna want the full FBI profile on everyone who'll be there."
Ash snickered. "Better hope she doesn't make you write it out."
"She would, too," she muttered, shaking her head.
"We won't be able to come, we already had plans for later," piped up Chug, a bashful look on his and Maple's faces.
"Cool," Sal said, nodding like that settled it. "We'll meet up at Larry's after school, then."
He barely resisted the urge to bang his head against the table. His room was not ready for this.