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“Do you know more than how to say one-word responses?”
“No.”
“Cadence.”
“No.”
Seth chuckled on the other side of me. “Leave her. From what Justin said, they were playing a game of Monopoly last night.”
“Longest game of my life,” I finally said and sat up straight, rubbing at my eyes. They felt crusty and glued shut. Justin chuckled from behind me. I reclined so my back was against his legs and then tilted my head so I could see him. My boyfriend. Still something I was struggling to grasp. “Shush. It’s your fault. You should have caved and just given me Boardwalk.”
“No one gives up Boardwalk. Ever.”
“But I had Park Place and you were going broke.”
“Exactly. Boardwalk kept me in the game.”
“My point! It would have ended so much faster.” I yawned and sat back up, trying to see the field, my vision a little blurred.
How was I supposed to drive home later?
My eyes shut briefly and when I opened them, I was leaning against Bryan.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be. The game will start soon. Once these bleachers start shaking, that’ll wake you up.”
My phone buzzed and looked down at Micah’s text.
Micah: Mom wants to know if you like cranberries.
Me: They’re fine. Aren’t you with the twins, why are you messaging me about Thanksgiving?
Micah: Mom called me in a panic because she couldn’t find her recipe book. Apparently there’s a really good family recipe in there dealing with cranberries. She’s cooking to impress this year.
Me: I’m fine with cranberries.
Micah: Good. Back to chasing the girls around. Hazel is determined to get at least one amazing action photo of all the players.
Me: Good luck.
“Micah?” Bryan asked.
“Yeah. His mom wanted to know what I thought about cranberries.”
“For Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah.” I yawned again. When I had breakfast with Micah this morning, I should have asked about drinking his dirt. That would have woken me up.
“Think I can get away with missing family Thanksgiving and join you guys instead?”
Something in Bryan’s voice put me on alert. I sat up straight, turning to him. “What’s going on?”
He shrugged. “It would just be more fun to join you. I hate Thanksgiving. My parents make this big deal about it, suddenly caring about my existence because they want to show off to the rest of my family. It’s stupid. And with college just around the corner, they’re getting worse.” He blew out a breath. “Did you know they hired someone to write my personal statement for me? What the fuck is personal about a personal statement written by a stranger. I saw the damn thing. I might as well go to the school and scream on top of the Dean’s building that a stranger wrote it for me. It’s more boring than history.”
“What did they write about?” I asked.
“My brilliance as a perfect student who challenges myself with tutors. How I throw money around for charities that frankly, I didn’t know existed. And when I looked one up, the damn thing was a scam. Something about providing children with updated technology around the world, but if you break down their spending, only like five percent goes toward that while the rest lines people’s pockets. I’m not dumb. The breakdown of their costs is all wrong.”
