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CHAPTERSEVEN
Dinner is mostly uneventful. Then again, I tune out most of the conversation, my head wrapped up in what I saw outside. I can’t shake the feeling that the man next door might be dangerous, can’t shake the guilt over doing nothing about it.
Memphis keeps looking over at me, giving his head a little dip whenever I meet his eyes as if to say “Are you alright?” Each time, I nod and pretend I am, but I don’t think I’m fooling him.
When we finish eating, Logan pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge while Mara gets the glasses down.
“I was thinking we could play that game,” Austin tells us, brushing his hair back from his face. “If everyone’s feeling up to it.”
“The Bookish Confessions one?” Mara asks, spinning around to look at him.
“Yeah.”
“Sounds fun to me,” Logan says, unscrewing the top from the wine and pouring himself a glass before passing the bottle around.
“Cool. I’ll go find some paper and pens,” Austin says, darting from the room.
“I think I saw some in the living room next to the TV,” Paulette shouts after him, cupping her hands around her mouth so the sound carries further.
Memphis crosses the room to the coffee pot and pours himself a fresh cup, adding cream from the fridge. When he starts to walk away, I call after him without thinking, “Aren’t you playing?”
He stops in his tracks, his eyes warming when he meets mine. “I have emails to catch up on.”
“You aren’t going to play?” Paulette cries as if utterly appalled.
“You have to play!” Mara says, crossing the room and taking his arm. “Come on. Doesn’t he have to play, Lena?”
He looks at me, and I tilt my head sideways, asking without asking.
“Fine,” he says, sliding his arm out of hers with a laugh. “I’ll play.”
“Yes!” She celebrates with a victory leap in the air, dragging her arm down with her elbow bent.
“I found them.” Austin races into the room, out of breath, with a handful of pens and a notebook.
In the living room, we find our seats. I sit on the couch next to Mara, with Memphis on the floor next to the end of the couch. Paulette and Logan are in two of the wingback chairs in front of the window, and Austin sits on the floor to Mara’s left, so we form a circle.
As he explains the rules of the game again, he tears out slips of paper for everyone, passing the paper and pens around.
“I want the glittery one,” Mara says when he hands her a plain ballpoint pen, swapping it out for the glittery purple pen in his hand.
“No.” He takes it back.
“Hey!” she cries, trying to grab it from his hand.
“No. You can’t use a pen that’s recognizable. Everyone has to use these same ones. That way no one knows who wrote what.” He hands her the first pen back, then drops the glitter one onto the coffee table next to one that doesn’t work.
Once everyone has their papers and fully understands the rules, Austin leaves the room and returns a few moments later with an orange plastic serving bowl from the kitchen.
“Okay, here we go. So, write your bookish confession down, make sure no one sees you do it, fold it in half twice, and then drop it in the bowl.”
He places the bowl onto the coffee table and sits down on the ground, grabbing a book from one of the stacks on the floor to lay his paper on.
“Oh! Hand me one?” Mara asks, holding out her hand.
“Me too,” Memphis agrees.
Soon, we all have books in our hands and begin to write.
