The sun had finally come out for once, making the Pink Palace yard look less like a haunted postcard and more like a half-decent place to spend a morning. Unfortunately, you were stuck outside, knee-deep in dirt and weeds, because your parent had declared it a “character-building experience.”

And of course, she had to show up.

Coraline stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes squinting at the garden bed like it had personally offended her. “You missed a whole patch,” she said, pointing with her boot.

You didn’t look up. “Thanks for the expert opinion. Want a shovel while you’re at it?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the “p.” “Just here to laugh when the worms crawl up your sleeves.”

You snorted. “Didn’t realize sarcasm was your hobby. Explains a lot, though.”

Coraline rolled her eyes. “Please. You act like I’m the one who always starts stuff.”

“You do always start stuff.”

She opened her mouth to fire back, but then your parent’s voice called from the porch: “Coraline! Be helpful or head home!”

Coraline groaned and dropped onto her knees next to you with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh. Fine. But if I get dirt in my socks, I’m blaming you.”

“Cool. I’ll send you the laundry bill.”

You handed her a trowel and tried not to look directly at her as you both worked in tense, prickly silence. A few minutes passed like that.

Then, without looking up, she said, “Your rows are kinda neat.”

You blinked. “Is that a compliment, or are you setting up for an insult?”

She smirked, eyes on the dirt. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You shook your head, but couldn’t help the slight grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

For two people who didn’t like each other, you were surprisingly good at working side by side.

Not friends. Definitely not. But maybe… tolerable.