My daughter did not ask permission.

She walked into the kitchen and announced that a girl was eating dinner with us. I was already standing at the stove, trying to make one pan of food stretch between four people.

The girl behind her wore an oversized hoodie despite the August heat. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

“Her name is Tovah,” Rennie said.

I told her to grab a plate.

Inside my head, I was already calculating portions. I cut the meat thinner, added more rice, and hoped nobody would notice.

Tovah ate slowly, carefully, like every bite mattered. She drank glass after glass of water and flinched whenever something made a sudden noise.

After dinner, I pulled Rennie aside.

“You can’t keep bringing people home when we’re barely managing.”

Rennie stared at me.

“She hasn’t eaten all day.”

Then she told me why.

Tovah had nearly fainted at school again.

Her father was working constantly.

Their electricity had been shut off.

And she only ever ate school lunch.

I sat down.