“Oh, yay,” I grumble as Wilder's hand finds my back.
“This is going to be—” Wilder quietly mumbles in my ear.
“A disaster,” I finish for him.
I lead the way as Isla rambles off information about our parents to Harvey the Senior Citizen.
“Remember,” Isla's tone comes across as insolent and authoritative, “Jill is a dog walker and Jason has worked his way up to account manager at the firm. They're working-class, upstanding citizens who will love and adore youjust like I do. They won't care that you're thirty years older than I am or that you walk a little slower since you had the hip replacement.” There’s a pause as Wilder and I share a perturbed look. “We really should have brought your cane.”
I want to vomit. I want to hurl my guts. I want to expel the turkey sandwich I had for lunch.
Seriously, the Queen of Debauchery and Denial is actually the Queen of Decrepit and Delusional.
I'm not sure who's worse. Frank the Fornicator or Harvey the Hobbling Senior Citizen.
“Judgment is leaking from your pores,” Wilder mumbles.
“I can't help it,” I whisper-yell back. “He's…old.”
“Ah!” Mom screeches when she sees Wilder. “Thelegendis here.”
I run a hand over my face at the same time Dad does.
“What legend?” Isla pops her head in the door above me.
“The legend ofWild Cox, dear.” Mom waves her off with a flick of her wrist. “Wilder, I need your help with the printer again. Jason,” Mom throws Dad a frustrated scowl, “changed the settings on me and I need my flyers for tomorrow's summer school job fair.”
“Why do you need flyers for the job fair?” I ask.
“Because Ingrid,” Mom sing-songs, “Tolly Moffet from the Three-Hole Donut Shop suggested I secure a booth to talk to The Future Dog Walkers of America.”
“Three holes?” Wilder shoots me a sultry grin.
I ignore him and give Mom a quizzical look. “The Future Dog Walkers of America? Is that a club?”
“No, Ingrid.” Mom snaps her fingers together. “Keep up. I'm going to talk to teenagers about a potential career in dog walking.”
“Oh.” I tilt my head to the side. “Okay.”
“There's no club. Just a tribe of teenagers. Got it now?” Mom elbows Wilder in the arm. “She's a little slow.”
Dad shrugs helplessly as Wilder chuckles.
“Can you move?” Isla growls from the doorway before she shoves me out of the way. “Mom, Dad, this is—”
“You must be Mr. Templeton,” Mom cuts her off and rushes forward. She shakes Harvey the Hobbling Senior Citizen's hand. “It's nice to meet you. I'm so looking forward to meeting your son, Harvey. Isla has mentioned how wonderful he is.”
“Uh.” I scoff as I finally regain my footing. “That is Harvey, Mom.”
“W-what?” Mom stares at me, perplexed.
“You're shaking Harvey's hand.” I point to the old man in our house. “That's not his dad. That's him.”
Mom's face pales. “Ingrid, go to your room. Right now.”
“What did I—”
“Now,” Mom instructs as her eyes bulge out of her head.
