by Katie Nelson
“Awww,” Kelsey looked genuinely sad. “Really? Has he asked anyone out?”
“Oh yeah. Lots of girls. And teachers, the cashiers at the grocery store, any waitress we’ve ever had….”
She laughed. “Oh no.”
“It’s a wonder we haven’t been sued for sexual harassment yet.”
Kelsey leaned across the table. “Peyton, what are you doing on Friday?”
She looked at Kelsey like she was insulted. “Shopping. What else?”
“Oh, right.” Kelsey turned back to me, handing me my phone. “Call your brother. Tell him he’s got a date on Friday.”
“What? You want to go out with him?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a little old for him, so I’ll have to go with you, genius. My cousin Sarah will come. She’ll be as desperate to get away as I will be. Double date. It’ll be fun.”
I stared at Kelsey for a second. She was serious. I didn’t know why it surprised me. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me. “Really? You’d come all the way out to Hollister? From Napa? It’s over a two-hour drive.”
“I don’t think you understand the lengths to which I will go to avoid the Black Friday Beauty Bash.”
“The what?”
She sighed. “My parents are both plastic surgeons, right?” I nodded. “Every year they do this holiday special: Botox, waxing, mani/pedis, the works. And they love to parade me and Sarah around because the women look at us and realize they’re not eighteen anymore, so they buy way more services. I hate it, but my parents won’t let me get out of it. Unless I have a really good reason. And this is a really good reason.”
Everyone at the table was getting ready to leave. I picked up my hat and put it back on, still thinking about Kelsey’s offer. I wanted to believe there was more to it. That she wasn’t just doing it for Sam. That maybe she wanted to see me, too. But I was afraid to hope.
We moved toward the door, but Tomas and Garrett stopped outside the bar, staring at the flat-screen TV mounted above it.
“I don’t believe it,” Tomas said. “Cal was favored to win. By ten.”
Garrett’s eyes darted to the Duke, then back to the screen. The Duke walked by, oblivious to the game, listening to Peyton, who was back to flirting with him. When we were outside, Garrett pulled him aside. “You put ten grand on that game,” Garrett said, his voice shaking.
The Duke didn’t answer.
“You knew they would lose. You made sure of it. How?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I want in next time,” Garrett demanded. Then, as if he suddenly remembered where he was, he looked up and we locked eyes. There was a desperation in his look that I didn’t want any part of.
I nodded to both of them, then walked past, unlocked my Bronco, and shouted to Kelsey and Peyton, “You guys need a ride?”
Kelsey looked like she might go for it, but Garrett was there, the keyless entry on his Lexus chirping. She shrugged and opened the door.
I drove back to the dorm alone.
There were funky smells coming from the kitchen.
I guess there was the usual turkey/gravy/potato scent, but it was hard to make out with the other fumes. Cheese that smelled like it belonged in the Dumpster, deviled eggs, and enough curry to make my eyes water, even from here. Part of me wanted to go investigate—or at the very least, open a window—but I’d experienced the combined wrath of my mom and Aunt Kristy and wanted to live to see my seventeenth birthday. I stayed put on the couch and went back to staring at the parade on Abby’s TV.
We’d already watched most of it this morning, but Aunt Kristy had recorded it just for Sam, and neither my mom nor I had the heart to tell her. So we camped out in the family room while it was on. Sam was moving slowly this morning, and we were all a little on edge.
He had these fits sometimes; his muscles would tense up and he’d go into spasms and we never knew what brought them on or when they were coming.
Last night had been pretty bad. My mom had run to the grocery store after I got home, so it was just me and Abby with him. Sam was lying on the floor, thrashing in pain, knocking books off the shelves and the lamp off the table. For a moment, I’d panicked, frozen.
Abby had been brilliant, though. She’d put a pillow behind Sam’s head and laid on the floor with him. She ordered me to get his pills from the bathroom along with a glass of water. She’d held on to him, talking in a calm voice, until I got back.
My hands had been shaking as I crushed the pills into a spoon so Sam could swallow the powder. He hated the bitter taste of the oxycodone, and spilled half the glass of water down his shirt afterward, but it did the trick. Eventually, he calmed down.
He’d fallen asleep on the couch and I’d carried him to bed before my mom got home.
Now, while we waited for dinner, Abby and I watched him. Occasionally, Sam would comment on one of the floats. He laughed at the Sesame Street characters every time. There was something about Cookie Monster that never got old. In between, he patted Abby’s ancient golden retriever, Bo, who was probably also contributing to the overwhelming odor.
At least Sam seemed okay for now.
Abby chuckled and I looked over to see what was so funny. “What?”
She passed me her phone. There was a picture of her ex-boyfriend Bobby Ito’s car covered in Saran Wrap and shaving cream and toilet paper and who knows what else.
“Nice,” I said, and passed it back.
She continued to scroll through Instagram and Tumblr, typing comments every now and then, flicking quickly past others. I turned on my phone, too, but it wasn’t that exciting. My Bannerman friends weren’t all that into social media. They all had pages, which I continued to stalk, but they rarely posted much. My old friends were more active, but it was weird looking at their pictures and reading their updates. I knew them, but I wasn’t one of them. Not anymore. It was kind of liking watching a TV show where the dialogue was dubbed in another language. Familiar, but foreign at the same time. I closed the apps, leaned my head against the back of the couch, and shut my eyes.
Abby and I were squashed next to each other on the loveseat, and I felt her tense. I opened my eyes. She was looking at her phone screen, her lips pressed into a thin line. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
I closed my eyes again, but I couldn’t relax. She was completely still. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and peeked at her phone. There was a picture of some girl I didn’t recognize, wearing a see-through T-shirt and a purple bra underneath, sitting on Blake’s lap, both of them mid-laugh. I turned away before Abby caught me. She didn’t say anything. I didn’t either.
I must have dozed off. The next thing I knew Abby was shaking me and telling me it was time to eat. We all filed into the garage. Most people probably didn’t eat the fanciest meal of the year sitting on folding chairs in their aunt’s garage, but we’d never been considered “most people,” and there wasn’t room for all my mom’s strays anywhere else.
Mom had really outdone herself this year. At her table she had Raj, a radiologist from the hospital, whose family was still in India; Mary Sue, a pharmaceutical tech who traveled the country competing in poetry slams; Mr. Jenkins, the cranky guy who’d lived in the other half of our duplex for the last five years; and Evelyn, the mother of Aunt Kristy’s second husband; as well as Kristy and Mr. Third-Time’s-the-Charm, who I was now supposed to call Uncle Steve.
I was seated at the other table, between Abby and Sam, with a family from Fiji who spoke little English. “Just think,” Abby said, as she handed me the mashed potatoes, “you’ve been looking forward to this meal for months.”
“I always pictured it exactly like this.”
“Would you like some congealed snot?” Abby passed me a plate with some kind of custard on it. At least, I think it was custard.
“No thanks.” I smiled widely at the Fijian father next to me and passed it to him. “Have some chi
cken liver stuffing. Mr. Jenkins brought it.” I passed the plate to Abby.
She glanced over my shoulder to see if Mr. Jenkins was watching. He was. She scooped some onto her plate as she kicked me under the table. My shin throbbed. Under her breath, Abby said, “Remember who gets your mail. You owe me.”
She was right. I totally did. When I got here this morning, she’d handed me an envelope with a Bannerman logo that she’d intercepted. I’d asked her to watch for my progress report. I had a C in chemistry and a C- in American lit. Any lower, and I’d be on academic probation, which would make me ineligible to compete. My mom would freak if she saw it. I knew I could pull those grades up, but it would take some massive sucking up and a ton of extra credit. I’d been so busy getting prepped for tournaments that I’d let my homework slide. I couldn’t let anyone know.
“Is that right, Tanner?” Steve asked.
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear what Mr. Jenkins said?” Everyone in the room went quiet, waiting for my reply.
I shook my head. “No, sorry.”
“Mr. Jenkins said he saw you on TV. At game four of the World Series. Right behind the Giants.”
Aunt Kristy laughed. “Do you have any idea how expensive those tickets are? There’s no way that was Tanner.”
“I’m pretty sure it was,” Mr. Jenkins said, “wearing that blue coat of his.”
Mom shook her head. “He doesn’t even like sports.”
Mary Sue started talking about how baseball is a metaphor for life, and everyone went back to their food. I picked up my knife and spread butter onto my crescent roll, coating the whole thing before I took a bite. When I glanced up, Abby was watching me. She knew I’d been there.
Steve was talking again, practically shouting at me from his end of the table. “You getting good grades at that fancy school of yours?”
I nodded. “I’m trying to.”
“Don’t screw this up. Not many people get an opportunity like you have. It’s not like you’re Blake, with a talent for football. That might get you somewhere.”
I picked up my water and took a sip, trying to calm myself before I answered. Steve was a blue-collar jackass with a chip on his shoulder. His opinion didn’t matter. But my own chip started kicking in and I couldn’t let it go.
“Yes, Blake’s got quite the future. I can’t wait to see him at the twenty-year reunion.”
I met my mom’s gaze from across the garage. She shook her head slightly. Let it go, she was saying. But I couldn’t.
“Well, debate is kind of like a sport,” Aunt Kristy said. “You can get a letter for your jacket, right Tanner?”
Steve burst out laughing. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Why would you get a letterman jacket for debate? That’s like those pathetic kids who get letters in band. Or a scholarship to play the tuba for four years. Why would any college waste money on those kids? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Actually,” I said, “I’m planning on getting a scholarship in debate. You’re right. There isn’t as much scholarship money available for debate or band or other non-athletic activities, but the right schools understand their value.”
Steve leaned back in his chair and took a long drink of wine. “Well, you’d better hope you can. But if it don’t work out, come talk to me. I could get you a job as one of my apprentices. Since you’re family.”
I tried to smile, but inside I was fuming. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d go work with Steve and become a plumber, family or not. I’d rather flip burgers or dig ditches or shovel animal carcasses into a furnace. I picked up my fork and took a bite of turkey. It was dry. I chewed it slowly as I looked around at the stained concrete floor, the cobwebs in the corners, the bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling.
Steve was so proud of this house, this garage, but I couldn’t look at it the same way I had before. I’d only been at Bannerman for two months. But I’d eaten real mashed potatoes, not just instant. I’d tasted turkey that was juicy, I’d eaten off china plates with actual silver silverware. I’d listened to lectures not just from teachers, but from CEOs and innovators and artists. I’d seen what was possible, and I wanted it. I wanted more.
Mom and Kristy got up to clear plates and serve the pie. I was stuffed. I’d had three helpings of potatoes and gravy and probably a pound of turkey.
Even so, somehow I wasn’t satisfied.
I was in my day-after-Thanksgiving coma. Sam had been up since seven, even though he knew that Kelsey and her cousin weren’t coming until three. After putting up with his questions for forty-five minutes—No, I didn’t want breakfast yet; Yes, I was going to take a shower; Sure, he could use some of my cologne; No, I wasn’t going to call them and make sure they were still coming—I finally yelled across the hall, “Mom. Make. Him. Stop!”
She took him with her to the grocery store and I went back to sleep until nine like a normal person.
We spent the morning putting up our fake Christmas tree. When we’d hauled the boxes back to the garage and cleaned up lunch, both Sam and I sat on the couch, waiting for the knock on the door. A little after three, I heard a car pull up out front, followed by the loud rumble of an engine. I knew that sound. I jumped up and hurried outside before Sam realized they were here.
Kelsey was there in her mom’s Volvo with her cousin sitting in the passenger seat. The Duke was parked behind her, the sun glinting off his silver convertible, making me squint and shield my eyes. I waved to Kelsey and walked straight for the Porsche.
“What are you doing here?”
The Duke stepped out of his car and shut the door. “Nice to see you too, mate. My Thanksgiving was great, thanks for asking.”
I shook my head. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude. But my brother thinks this is a date.” The girls had walked over to us and were staring at me. I let out a long breath. “He’s been looking forward to this all week. If he sees you here, he’ll think you’re—” I turned and looked at Kelsey’s cousin. “What was your name?”
“Sarah,” Kelsey said. The girl waved, but didn’t speak.
I turned back to him. “He’ll think you’re Sarah’s date. And that this has all been a big joke. It happened to him once before.”
The Duke nodded. “Sure. Of course,” he said. “I was bored. Thought I’d tag along. I can head home.”
I felt terrible, watching him walk around to his door, remembering that he’d spent Thanksgiving alone in that giant, empty house. And as I met Kelsey’s eye, I knew I had to do something. I bit my lip and hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake.
“Wait,” I said. “Let me call Abby. She’s babysitting today, but I bet she’d like some company.”
A smile spread across the Duke’s face as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted my cousin. The screen door opened and I turned and saw Sam on the front step, his cane extended, watching the four of us with suspicion.
“Sam, come meet everyone,” I called out. He took tentative steps down the driveway, and as my eyes moved between the Duke and Kelsey, I noticed for the first time that the window screens were ripped in several places. I saw the paint the landlord had used to cover the graffiti that didn’t quite match the rest, the lawn that was more brown weeds than grass, the bowls of food that Sam had set out for the neighborhood cats, now crawling with ants. When I’d made plans with Kelsey, I hadn’t realized how exposed I’d feel when she came out here to my home, to meet my family. And I knew as I stood there and waited for Sam to join us, that there was no going back from this.
I turned to the Duke first. “Sam, do you remember the Duke? You met him when you came to my dorm. He’s here to say hi, then he’s going to hang out with Abby.”
“Hey,” Sam said, nodding his head.
I turned to the girls. “This is Kelsey. You talked to her once, on my phone, remember? And this is Sarah, her cousin.”
A huge smile spread across his face, and he walked up to Kelsey, took her hand and shoo
k it, then did the same to Sarah. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
Sarah looked scared and kind of hid behind Kelsey, but she answered right away. “Thanks for inviting us. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Sam leaned way into Kelsey’s personal space, but she didn’t move away. “You don’t listen to him,” he pointed at me. “He likes to tease me because he’s jealous. I get all the girls. He gets none.”
Kelsey laughed, and patted Sam’s arm. “That sounds about right.”
The Duke reached over and shook Sam’s hand, too. “I’ve got to get going. You kids have fun.”
I walked with him back to his convertible, and told him how to get to the house where Abby was babysitting. Before he cranked the engine, I leaned on the window frame so nobody else could hear. “Thanks, for, you know … understanding, and all. About my brother.”
He smiled. “It’s fine. He’s a funny kid. Next time I’ll call first.”
“Nah,” I shook my head. “It’s cool. Come over any time. Good to see you.” I pounded on the door and stood. He turned the key and the car came to life, bellowing and grumbling.
As he revved the engine, he called out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I could barely hear him and had to shout over the noise. “There’s nothing you wouldn’t do.”
He put his sunglasses on, checked his reflection in the rear view mirror, and shifted into first. “Then you should be fine.” He winked as his tires squealed and he pulled away from the curb, accelerating down the street. Sam, the girls, and I all walked to the house. We could still hear the rumble of the Duke’s car when we were inside and he was at least three or four blocks away.
I was too excited to be out with Kelsey, even if it was a double date with my brother, to worry about Abby and the Duke together. She knew what she was doing. And Blake was in southern California meeting with college football coaches, so he wouldn’t find out. I let myself believe it. It was easier that way.