“Don’t want it!” Malik Paul slammed his glass of milk down on the table. Mr. Simmons grabbed the glass just in time to stop it from tipping over, but the sleeve of his suit jacket swept Malik’s buttered and jellied toast from the plate onto the floor. (Malik Paul was Cara’s little brother, Mr. Simmons was their father, and Lenny was Cara’s best friend.) Lenny and Cara looked at each other, and then both of them dived under the kitchen table. There on the white tiled floor lay Malik’s already-bitten-into slice of breakfast toast in a huge smear of red jam. Actually it looked kind of cool.