Page 51 of Thin Ice

"Russ," Aunt Deb said from the kitchen, setting the casserole on the counter. She raised her eyebrows. He stopped.

He found Alex next. Alex was standing by the table, and Uncle Russ crossed the kitchen in two strides and stuck his hand out.

"So you're Alex," Russ said.

"Yes, sir," Alex said, taking it.

"Don't sir me. I work for a living." He clapped Alex on the shoulder hard enough that Alex shifted his weight. "Liam says you row for Kingswell."

"I did," Alex said. "I'm actually—"

"You know what I never understood about rowing?" Russ said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. "You're going backwards. The whole time."

"That's. Yeah," Alex said.

"You can't see where you're going."

"You can feel it."

"Feel it," Uncle Russ said, considering this. He rubbed his chin. "Like driving in reverse?"

"More like driving in reverse at full speed in traffic," Alex said.

Uncle Russ laughed. Big. The kind that shook the room and rattled the plates Alex had just set out. "I like this kid," he said, turning to nobody in particular.

"Russ, let the boy breathe," Grandma said from the stove, where she was lifting the foil off the ham.

"I'm welcoming, Jean," Russ said.

"You're smothering," Grandma said.

"With all due respect, Jean—"

"Don't you Jean me in my kitchen," Grandma said.

"It's my kitchen, Mom," my mom said from behind her.

Grandma rolled her eyes and walked away toward the living room, muttering something about nobody respecting ownership anymore.

Aunt Sheryl came in carrying a salad in one hand and a casserole in the other, wearing a blouse nicer than anything else in the room. Danny followed behind her with a case of beer under one arm, not saying a word, heading straight for the couch next to Grandpa. He set the beer on the floor, cracked one, and the two of them settled into the same silence they'd been practicing it for years.

Maddie found me in the hallway while I was pulling extra chairs from the bedroom, dragging them one at a time past the bathroom and through the narrow corridor.

"Liam," she said, blocking my path.

"What's up, Mads?"

"Is Alex famous?" she asked, dead serious.

"No."

"He looks famous."

"He's just tall."

"Sam keeps staring at him," she said, jerking her thumb toward the living room where Sam was pretending to look at his phone from the corner of the couch.

"Tell Sam to stop being weird," I said.