Page 136 of Off the Rails

“Besides, I got a new family. One that takes me as I am.”

Just then, Nash was walking back over to us — happy with the spare she’d scored. Performatively, she wiped her shoulders off and shrugged.

I leaned to Blade’s ear, lowering my voice to a whisper. “You’re perfect. Really. Just as you are.” Planting a kiss on her cheek, I stood up and moved toward the ball return.

“What the hell? When do I get a kiss?” Nash smirked.

“When you deserve it!” I hollered over my shoulder as I picked a purple ball, weighing in at six pounds. Clearing my throat, I tried to recenter myself.

I wanted to break down their walls, knowing that there was more to each of them than they wanted me to see. They were guarded and wary, even if we’d known each other years ago. And so was I.

The monitor overhead told me that my two Freaks had both scored spares.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I slipped my fingers into the bowling ball and swung it back. I released my grip and let the ball hurtle down the lane.

I winced as the bowl smacked into the gutter, rolling to the back of the pinsetter.

“Shit.”

“That’s okay, you’re warming up.” There was an overconfidence in Blade’s voice as she smirked at me.

But once the purple ball returned to me, I tried to aim the ball more toward the center. But at the last second, my wrist bent and sent the ball back into the gutter. “Fuck.”

“Oof.” Nash put her hands behind her head, her muscular biceps flexing as she grinned. “Do you need the ramp?”

“Or the bumpers?” Blade laughed.

Before I could fight back, Danielle from the front counter appeared with a black tray full of food. She placed it down on the black formica table on the end of the booth. “Enjoy!”!

“Thanks, Dani.” Nash waved her thanks. “Dig in. It’s not a five-star dinner but it’s food.”

Just looking at the tray full of greasy food made my stomach rumble. The night we’d had left me with all the symptoms of a hangover. And the piles of fries, buffalo wings, burgers, and mozzarella sticks seemed like the perfect cure.

I already had a handful of fries in my mouth by the time Nash had finished speaking. Her jaw dropped as she watched me chow down.

“I need to refuel. That’s why I’m guttering,” I said through a mouthful of cheese and bread.

“No, I like it.” Nash watched my lips as I licked them clean.

We stayed on like that, rotating between bowling and eating as each of our turns came and went.

With each set, Nash and Blade got more average bowls — spares, a couple splits, a rare strike.

But I kept my focus, working on my form with each turn. By the time we’d hit the end of our second game, our scores were almost even.

A couple strikes would set me over.

On the tenth round, I stepped up to the approach and sucked in a deep breath.

I closed my eyes, trying to drown out Nash and Blade’s hollering from behind me.

Swinging my arm back, I kept my wrist straight as I followed through, releasing the bowling ball just as my arm lifted. The purple sphere landed with a thud as it raced down the slick lane.

Holding my breath, I watched it careen toward the pins, smacking right between the tip of the triangle and the pin to its left.

Ten pins clattered to the ground, echoing off the wood panelled walls.

“Yes!” I cheered as I leapt into the air.