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Drunken? Dranken? Is dranken a word? Like I drank something, why could I have not dranken it down? You can both drunk and have drunken something.”
“Fornicating,” Mrs. Paquinn says. “That’s three.”
“You can make up whatever words you want,” Otter tells me.
“Lovemaking,” he says while looking me in the eye.
“Oh, gag,” Creed says. “We’ll count it, even if it’s so incredibly gay that it should come with its own packet of fairy dust that you could sprinkle in the air when you say it. And the fact that my brother is making goo-goo eyes at my best friend, who has snot on his face.” Oh thank God, he still thinks of me as his best friend. I use Otter’s sleeve to wipe my nose. He growls at me.
“Doing the baby-making floor tango,” Mrs. Paquinn says.
“That’s not a real one,” the Kid grumbles. “That just sounds stupid.
What about fuc—”
“Not at the table,” Anna admonishes sternly. “Or ever.”
“Yeah, don’t say fucking at the dinner table, Kid,” Creed says. “That’s fucking rude. Fuck.”
Anna kicks him in the shins, and he yelps.
“English is such a weird language,” I say to Otter as he rubs my back.
“Sometimes, I don’t know how I learned it.”
“You didn’t,” Mrs. Paquinn, Anna, Creed, and the Kid all say, like they’re on some kind of Vulcan mind-meld.
“Good times sexy party,” Mrs. Paquinn says. “Going downtown and shopping at the meat market. Catching the ol’ kielbasa in the bun. Playing hide the wiener. Raiding the taco shop.”
“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” Creed says, staring at Mrs.
Paquinn.
“Coitus,” the Kid practices, rolling the word around on his tongue.
“After dinner, why don’t we have some coitus, baby?” He turns to me. “That just doesn’t sound right.”
“On so many levels,” I tell him. “You’ll figure it out. You’re very verbosal.” I reached for the wineglass, but Otter stops me and I pout.
“You’ve dranken enough,” he tells me. “Huh. I don’t know why that’s not a word. It sounds correct.” He kisses me again. “You’re right. English is hard.”
I grin at him.
“You’re dating Creed?” Anna’s dad asks her, his eyes wide.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Creed’s dad scowls. “Creed’s a great guy!”
Creed looks at his dad like he walks on water.
“That’s… that’s not what I meant!” Mr. Grant sputters. “I just don’t understand how Anna made Bear gay!”
Whoops. Wrong thing to say.
“I didn’t make him gay!” Anna shouts.
“Bear was a fruitcake long before Anna!” Creed snarls.
“Anna didn’t do it, I did!” Otter yells.
