And what about board games? I had noticed a few on Albie’s coffee table when I first went inside.
Now that I can do, she says, and the pair of us walk back into the house to look at the game options. She doesn’t hesitate, reaching for the Scrabble board.
My need to win also goes for Scrabble, I warn her. I try to picture myself letting her win—the gentlemanly thing to do, right?
But I know myself, and I can’t fucking do it.
Gie it laldy, I say, like a prick.
What does that mean?
I smile at her. Give it your best.
She says nothing, but gives me a look akin to someone looking for a challenge. I try to ignore the excitement this sets in my blood.
We bring the board out to the picnic table, where I can safely assess that my brother and his bride-to-be are losing to Alba and Rose. This makes me smile.
Ladies first, I say, motioning across the board to Violet. In truth, I need to see what I’m working with here so this isn’t a crushing defeat. I am very, very good at Scrabble, and if I can’t let her win, the least I can do is go easy on her.
She spends a few minutes arranging and rearranging her letters. I do the same, and I’ve got good letters to start. That’s half the battle at least, but it’s all about where you put them. I have a few words picked out in my mind, but it all depends on what Violet plays, and what spots on the board she opens up. I’m trying to be charitable here, but I can’t help at least figuring out which words could give me the most points.
After a few minutes, Violet smirks down at her letters, then her face lights up with a real smile.
She lays out her tiles one by one across the board: D-A-B-B-L-E-D.
When she places the final D tile on the board, she looks up at me with a flash of competitiveness I haven’t yet seen in her. A seven-letter word, which means fifty bonus points plus the double word score you get for starting off the game.
I sit up a little straighter.
Well okay then, Violet. Game on.
I opt for one of my better words, spelling out Z-E-B-R-A on the board, and placing the letter Z on a tile that gives you triple points for that particular letter. It’s a start, but I have a lot of catching up to do to get ahead of those fifty extra bonus points.
We don’t say much else for the next few turns. As I continue to catch up to Violet in the points, she says, You’re good.
You say that like you’re surprised. I try to make it sound drawling, and not letting the flicker of annoyance come through in my tone. I hate that she might think of me as a dumb jock. Why do people always assume the worst of me?
She shakes her head. No, I mean, I’m very good at Scrabble. And you’re giving me a run for my money. Except for my Nan, I’m pretty much undefeated in my family.
I laugh at this, not entirely surprised. I could tell Violet was smart. But Scrabble is a particular skillset—it’s not only about finding good words, it’s about placing them strategically, and she gets that.
Violet places Q-I on top of another letter I, which means she gets the points twice. I frown.
That’s not a word.
Yes it is.
Use it in a sentence.
I don’t need to, it’s in the Scrabble two-letter word list, she says, rifling through the box to pull out the rulebook. She flips to the back, handing it to me. I eye the list skeptically.
I mean, it is a word. It’s a vital life force in Eastern medicine.
Sounds like a proper noun, I tell her, shrugging. But I’ll allow it.
You don’t play with the two-letter words? I assumed that was standard Scrabble practice.
I feel a little out of my depth here and I do not like the feeling. I didn’t even know there was a two-letter word list in Scrabble; our board certainly didn’t come with one.
