by Kasie West
He offered me a smile. “Well, it was.” Then he put one arm around my back and grabbed a bag of Cheetos off the rack behind me. He held it between us. “These should be your salty. They’re good.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not a Cheetos fan.”
He finally took a step back, allowing me to breathe again. “Okay, what treat would inspire you to write a letter to its maker?”
I looked at all the colorful packaging filling the aisle in front of me. Either I hadn’t tried enough junk food in my life or I wasn’t easily inspired because nothing looked good.
“Nothing?” he asked. “Tough critic. Let’s do a visualization exercise. We do this in drama sometimes.”
I did visualizations before I gave speeches at school. I’d imagine exactly what I wanted to say and how I was going to say it. I wasn’t going to do that in the snack food aisle at 7-Eleven. “It’s okay, I’ll just get . . .” I reached forward and grabbed the first thing my hand touched.
Hayden raised his brows. “Dried bananas?”
“Yep.”
“Fine, what’s your sweet item, then?”
“I’m fine with the one item. Besides, it’s both sweet and salty.”
“You need two.”
“Nate gets one,” I said, pointing to the licorice Hayden had already grabbed.
“I’m not in charge of Nate.”
I raised one eyebrow. “But you’re in charge of me?”
“Today I am and I don’t think you’re grasping the importance of the road trip snack. Close your eyes.”
A couple of kids had just entered the aisle with us, laughing and searching each shelf for something specific.
“Don’t worry about them. Close your eyes.”
I sighed but closed my eyes.
“Imagine we’re driving along and we make a wrong turn and get lost in a dense forest.”
“Is there a forest on the way to UCLA?”
“Shhh . . .” He pushed a finger to my lips and I couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re visualizing, Gia, visualizing.”
“Right. Forest,” I said sloppily against his finger.
He moved his hand to my shoulder and I wasn’t sure if he leaned closer, but his voice seemed both louder and quieter at the same time. “We run out of gas in our attempt to find our way out and get trapped in the forest for three days straight. I, being fearless and strong, decide to leave the car and search out help.”
“This sounds like the beginning of every horror movie.”
“Another half a day passes and you’re famished. You reach for the 7-Eleven bag and pull out . . .”
“If it’s been three days, I’ve probably eaten all my snacks by now.”
I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “There’s one thing left.”
“Looks like it’s your bag of M&M’s. You must’ve been too busy being fearless and strong to remember to take it with you. I’m going to eat those.”
He snatched the bag of dried bananas from my hand and I opened my eyes.
“Dried bananas and an extra bag of M&M’s it is,” he said. “You will not be stealing mine.”
“Your game was fun,” I called after him as he marched to the register in a pretend huff.
When we arrived at the car, Bec had moved to the back, probably because her boyfriend was now coming.
“Boring people in front.” She was all stretched out on the backseat. “Now give me my treats.”
“I told you I’m not your personal shopper. I didn’t get them.”
She didn’t say a word, just held her hand, palm up, between the seats.
Hayden shook his head and handed her the items she’d requested. “One day I won’t get those.”
“One day I’ll join the cheer squad and go by Becky.”
“Wasn’t that last year?” Hayden asked.
“Oh yeah. Guess that wasn’t a good comparison, then.”
“You were a cheerleader?” I asked, not sure if they were kidding or not.
“She was. A pretty good one too.”
I remembered how Hayden had said at the party that she liked to put up a front so that people didn’t get too close. I wondered if this was another example of that.
“Pretty good?” She met my eyes. “Don’t look so shocked, Ms. President. I was popular once too.”
“Wait,” Hayden said. “You’re the student body president?”
Bec gasped. “Oh no, were we supposed to bring secret service with us? Is this a security breach?”
Hayden ignored his sister. “I thought you just said you were on the student council.”
“I am. President of the student council.”
“Is this for scholarship purposes or because you like being in leadership?”
“Both, I hope.”
“That’s a pretty great accomplishment, Gia. Congrats.”
I shrugged, feeling like he was making it a bigger deal than it was. “I guess.”
“No, he’s right,” Bec said, surprising me for the second time today. “There are a lot of people who campaign for that. So you are the most popular of the popular.”
“I just happened to be the one on the ballot that the most people knew. I think I only got, like, twenty percent of the vote. The rest was divided between the other two candidates and Mickey Mouse, Elvis, and a hundred other various write-ins.”
“So what was your campaign strategy? Did you promise off-campus lunch for all? No PE?”
“I basically spent a lot of time socializing online with a bunch of people I didn’t know to get my name in their heads.”
“Smart.”
“So let me get this straight,” Bec said. “You used people to get what you wanted? Did you unfollow all those people as soon as you won?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“But you probably stopped talking to them.”
Bec had this very special way of making me feel like the worst person on the planet. It was her talent or something.
“Bec, stop being a brat.”
I was glad Hayden interrupted because I didn’t want to have to explain that now I responded when people engaged but never reached out first.
We pulled into an older neighborhood and up to a run-down house. Bec jumped out of the car and rushed up to the front door. She smoothed her hair before she knocked.
“She has a major crush on this kid.”
“I would hope she’d have a crush on her boyfriend.”
“He’s not her boyfriend. She just wants him to be. Maybe you can help her with that.”
“Huh. I could’ve sworn they were together.” I watched Nate come out the door and shut and lock it behind him. The half a foot of space between him and Bec as they headed for the car was way more apparent now. I hadn’t noticed it before.
“Hey, Nate,” Hayden said as they both climbed into the back.
“Hi,” I added.
“Hello.”
Doors were shut and Hayden started driving again.
“I got you licorice,” Bec said.
Hayden raised his hand. “Well, technically, I got you licorice.”
Bec hit him on the back of the head with the package and then handed it to Nate.
“Cool,” he said. “Thanks.” He tore into the pack right away.
Hayden pointed to the 7-Eleven bag by my feet. “You ready to play copilot?”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It means you get to open my treats for me.”
“Do I have to feed them to you as well?”
“Ew. No,” Bec said.
Hayden smiled. “I think I can handle that part.”
I opened his treats and put them on the center console.
“Now we play road trip games.”
Bec groaned. “Hayden, this is why that three-week RV trip was unbearable.”
“No, I’m pretty sure that was unbearable because we had to dispose of our own waste and sleep in bunk beds.”
She smiled. “True. But your games ca
me in a close third.”
“Yes, my games.” He took a pretzel and popped it into his mouth. “So, I Spy or Would You Rather? Those are your game choices. Actually maybe we should play Twenty Questions since Gia here lost so handily the last time she attempted that game.”
“Hey.”
He laughed.
“You’re right. I need redemption. I’m actually very good at that game.”
“Prove it,” he said.
“I will.” I opened my bag of dried bananas. “Okay, think of something.”
“You’re not actually going to eat those, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I eat these? Now think of something.”
He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel a few times and then he said, “Got it.”
I turned back to Nate and Bec. “We’ll take turns asking him questions about it, first one to guess wins. If it takes us more than twenty questions, he wins.”
“I’m not playing your dumb game.”
“Let’s play,” Nate said.
“Fine,” Bec agreed without another argument.
“I’ll start,” I said. “Is it bigger than a bread box?”
Hayden opened then shut his mouth. “Really? That’s your first question? Do people even have bread boxes anymore? Are you eighty years old?”
“I play this game with my parents. That’s actually a very smart question. Because if the answer is no, I can automatically rule out a person or a place without having to waste two questions. If the answer is yes, I can rule out insects, rodents, and anything else that might fit in a backpack without having to ask multiple questions.”
“That’s what you should’ve asked. Is it bigger than a backpack?”
“Don’t critique my questions. I have a strategy.”
He bowed his head slightly. “I didn’t realize I had played this game with the master last time. Although I should’ve, with the sheer amount of questions you had about a name.”
“So? Is it bigger than a bread box?”
“What size of bread box?”
“I am the asker, you are the answerer.”
He smiled. “Yes, it is bigger than a bread box.”
Nate went next. “Is it a monkey?”
Bec backhanded him across the chest. “You don’t guess until you get more clues.”
“I wanted to guess. It’s part of my strategy.”
“What strategy is that? The dumbest one ever?”
Hayden met my eyes and mouthed, “See, she needs help.”
I laughed.
“No, it’s not a monkey,” Hayden said aloud. “Your turn, Bec.”
“Is it cold-blooded?” Bec looked at me as she asked this, like she was implying something more with the question.
Hayden seemed to think this as well because he gave her a hard look. “No.”
I had a feeling this day might not turn out as fun as I’d hoped.
CHAPTER 22
“I don’t believe it took you guys three hours to ask sixteen questions. Three hours.”
“It was Gia’s fault. She took the longest with hers,” Bec said.
I laughed. “If you didn’t analyze every one of my questions, Hayden, it wouldn’t have taken me so long. And we still get four more.”
He pulled into the parking lot of the university. “I feel like I need to change my answer to something more exciting after this buildup, like last time.”
“Wait. Are you saying your name isn’t Hayden?”
He gave me a playful tap on my arm with his fist. “No, I meant that there was a huge buildup last time and I felt like I needed to change my name.”
“You can’t change your answer. That’s cheating. But we will pause the game since we’re here.”
“Oh, good, more buildup.” He parked at a metered parking stall and turned off the car.
I looked out the window at the large buildings looming in front of us. We got out of the car and Hayden locked it.
“I’m excited to surprise him. I’ve never done anything like this.”
He added some quarters to the meter. “I’m sure he’ll be very flattered.”
“Or irritated. Either way,” Bec said with a teasing smile.
Hayden put her into a headlock and she squealed in a way I didn’t think her capable of doing. “What’s that, Bec? Irritated? What siblings ever irritate each other?” He released her and she punched him on the chest. He stood in between us as we walked, Nate on Bec’s other side. After a minute Hayden draped one arm around Bec’s shoulder and the other around mine. Oh, good, I’d fallen into the sister category.
I pulled the tickets out to find the name of the building the ceremony was taking place in: Macgowan Hall. I’d been to this campus a few times, a couple of times for Drew and another couple when visiting Bradley, but I didn’t remember where everything was. So we paused in front of a campus map.
My gaze immediately settled on the café where I’d met Bradley. I thought I’d feel something, a tug of loss, a longing, but there was nothing.
“It’s probably in the theater and film department, right?” Hayden’s finger landed right next to the building I had been looking at.
“You’ve been here before?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m thinking of transferring here eventually. They have an amazing theater program.”
Is that why he wanted to come? To check out the campus, give himself some motivation? “You should just start here, then,” I said. It would be so fun to have Hayden at UCLA with me.
“I need to get my generals out of the way somewhere cheaper.”
“Yeah, not everyone has a scholarship,” Bec said.
How did she know that? Had she researched me or something?
“You have a scholarship to UCLA?” Hayden asked. “I’m learning more about you every minute.”
“I need a picture,” I announced, partly to change the subject and partly because I had an idea. “The three of you stand there by the campus map.”
Hayden started to object but I gave him a little push. “Just do it.”
I backed up several steps and held up my phone. “Okay, hmm, Nate step a little closer to Bec. That’s better. Actually a little closer. Good, now put your arm around her like Hayden is doing. It will look better.” Bec’s cheeks went a little pink and Hayden’s annoyed look at having to take a picture turned into a smile.
“Say, ‘UCLA.’”
After getting something to eat, we arrived at the theater about ten minutes early, but I didn’t see my brother anywhere. “Should I call him?”
“It would be fun for him to see you in the audience,” Bec said. “Then we can talk to him afterward.”
“Okay. Sounds good.” It mostly sounded good because I was nervous. He’d asked me not to come and I was worried I was about to ruin his special night by being here. I shook off the feeling. He’d be happy. I knew I would’ve been if our places were reversed, if I’d seen him in the audience the day I’d given my campaign speech or the many times since that I’ve had to make presentations in front of the school.
A couple of minutes before six, the lights dimmed and a big screen lit up onstage. I was still trying to locate my brother, who I now thought was sitting in the front row. The back of his head looked an awful lot like the backs of several other people’s heads, though: mid-collar-length dark hair. Right as the clock on my phone reached six, a tall man walked out to the podium on the stage and tapped the microphone a few times.
“Hello, friends, family, and, of course, film students. I’m so pleased you could all make it. I’m Dr. Hammond, head of the film department. Welcome to our end-of-the-year awards ceremony highlighting our best pieces of the year. I know your time is valuable so we’re going to get straight to it.”
My brother was right: this was a fairly slow-moving ceremony. A clip from each film that won an award was shown after the honor it won was announced. The short clips were too short to get into and yet long enough to drag on. I pulled out my phone and texted
Hayden.
Can it be used in a sporting competition? It was my turn to ask and I was pretty sure I had narrowed down his answer to Twenty Questions to a few different options. It wasn’t a person, it wasn’t a place, it didn’t breathe, it could be carried.
It took his phone a second to vibrate, and when he pulled it out and read my question, he smiled.
His fingers moved over his screen typing for way longer than it took to write a simple yes or no. I squeezed his knee and he chuckled. Sure enough, when his answer came back, it was an analysis of my question.
Sporting competition is such a general term. Do you mean only a sporting competition? Or do you mean that one of its uses can be in a sporting competition?
Do people like to play games with you? Or is it pretty much a one-time occurrence and then they learn their lesson?
Is that one of your questions? Because that would make eighteen. Also, seeing as how this is the second time you’ve played this game with me, you tell me.
Bec elbowed me in the side and I looked up to see my brother’s name on the big screen with the title of his piece: Reprogramming a Generation.
“This next piece,” Dr. Hammond said, “is one of my very favorites. The insight and perspective that Drew shows us is raw, honest, and real. And because of those things, along with the documentation process itself, Drew has won the ultimate award this year: overall best piece. Congratulations, Drew. I wish we could see the whole film today because there is so much there, but that’s impossible. So let us take a short look at your video and then please come up and accept your award.”
On the screen, my brother’s name and the title of the piece faded, replaced by the UCLA campus. Students were walking to class, the halls were full, and the camera kept zooming in on people on their phones. Then the scene changed to one I recognized immediately, our house. Drew’s voice came on.
“How is selfworth measured today? By the amount of likes a post gets, by how many friends we collect, by how many retweets we accumulate? Do we even know what we really think until we post our thoughts online and let others tell us if they are worthy?” While he was speaking, the camera moved slowly down the hall. My face had gone numb because I knew where he was going. I remembered that camera glued to his face over his last year of visits home.