“No time like the present to practice,” Andi says, grinning, and tilts her head a little to one side. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
“You’ve heard of fun,” adds Reid.
No one is dressed for line dancing. Andi’s got on a long-sleeve shirt with one of those wide necks that keeps falling open over her shoulder, and Reid’s wearing a short-sleeved button down with multicolored triangles over it and jeans. It’s the first time in a while I’ve seen him out of oversized hoodies, and I’m still trying to figure out how to tell him he looks nice.
“Neither of you is dressed for the honkytonk orchestra or line dancing,” I point out. “Though you do look nice.”
“Yeah, is that a new shirt?” Andi chimes in, and Reid shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Um. Yeah.”
“It looks good on you.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, great!” Andi says, as if something’s been decided. “Let’s go!”
“To the country western bar with the honkytonk band,” I say, knowing full well that something else is going on here.
“Yeehaw,” Reid says, and Andi grabs my wrist. I let her pull me along. It’s what I do.
Shockingly, we don’t go to what I’m sure is a standout performance by Dwayne Wayne’s Honkytonk Orchestra. Instead Andi drives us out of town while singing along to Taylor Swift, and once we’re past Sprucevale limits, it takes me about five seconds to figure out where we’re going.
“I don’t think there’s any honkytonk here,” I complain as she parks in the lot for Loveless Brewing.
“It could probably be arranged,” she says, and she’s smiling so wide and bright that I can’t imagine someone not giving her what she wanted. “C’mon.”
I admit, my mind goes right to worst-case scenarios. Andi’s cooked up some harebrained scheme to reconnect me with my parents, with Matt, or Beth, or my other siblings who took their side. She’s arranged an intervention. I’m going to get inside and discover this is all an elaborate ruse to get me to buy a timeshare in the Catskills.
Or, the worst because it’s the most likely: it’s a surprise party with all the trappings. It’s not even my birthday.
“It’s not my birthday,” I point out when we reach the doors, and Andi gives me a confused frown.
“I know?” she says, and then pulls me in.
It looks like every other Saturday night at Loveless Brewing, and I let out a secret sigh of relief at the lack of confetti and balloons and people shouting my name. Andi pulls me to one side of the big, high-ceilinged room, looking pleased with herself, and after a moment I see why: sitting there is Silas and Kat and Javier and Wyatt and Lainey and Sadie and James and Ariel and her boyfriend and my sister Hannah.
“Surprise,” Silas says, then stands and comes over to give me a hug. “What are you drinking?”
“You’ve got Mothman and Bigfoot,” Sadie is saying thoughtfully, her chin resting on one hand. She’s halfway through her second beer and taking this very, very seriously. “You know about Deepwood Dave?”
“Of course,” Javier says.
“I can’t believe they named a monster Dave,” I tell them.
“I like it. Approachable,” says Sadie.
I sigh deeply. “Monsters shouldn’t be approachable,” I remind her. “They’re monsters. Please don’t approach them, for the love of God. Don’t approach any wild animals.”
Sadie narrows her eyes and takes another sip.
“Not that they’re real,” I say, belatedly, but the two of them already look far too amused. “I’m just saying, if you see something monstrous, don’t approach it.”
“Maybe you should look into the vaults at Forest Service HQ,” Sadie tells Javier. “Sounds like they’re hiding some cool shit.”
“We don’t have vaults,” I say, which may or may not be true.
“That’s what I’d say if I had vaults,” Javier says.
“Hmm,” Sadie intones seriously. Then she snaps her fingers and sits up straight. “Hodags! Do you know about those?”
“Hodags?”
“They live in caves and have bright red eyes,” Sadie tells him. “And eat people or something. That part was actually never clear.”
Javier has his phone out and is writing down Hodags caves red eyes.
“What else?” he asks.
Andi’s aunt Lucia and her uncle Frank show up a bit later, and there’s hugging and cheek-pinching and not once do they mention my parents. Lucia calls me sweetheart and Frank calls me champ, and I’m pretty sure he’s not even kidding.
No one has ever called me champ before. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it, though I don’t think I feel too bad. It’s been a week and a half since Andi and I sat on the floor in the high school, and I’ve slowly been telling people the truth: I’m estranged from my parents.
The response has been considerably more positive than I was expecting, which comes with its own set of Goddamn Complicated Feelings that I’m currently trying to wash away with beer.
Complicated Feelings like: I should have known, shouldn’t I? I should have stood up to them for Reid. For Elliott. I should have done this years ago instead of telling myself that I was helping, somehow. I should have been a better big brother.
I drink some more beer.
“They’re real assholes, aren’t they?” I ask the people currently standing near me.
Wyatt frowns and looks over his shoulder, like he’s trying to figure out who I mean.
“My parents,” I say, and Wyatt and Lainey exchange a look.
“I don’t really know your parents,” Lainey says, polite as anything.
“Well,” says Wyatt.
I sigh.
“Kinda,” he admits, then shoves a hand through his shock of orange hair. “I mean. They did kick your brother out.”
“And whatever’s going on with your sister,” Lainey adds, as diplomatically as she can.
“Does everyone know they’re assholes?”
“Define everyone,” Lainey says, and Wyatt snorts. She elbows him.
“Ow,” he mutters. “Those are pointy.”
She grins and holds one up, waving it at him in half a chicken dance, while Wyatt makes a face and tries to duck away, even though he’s nearly a foot taller than she is. They’re both laughing, until he finally grabs the offending elbow and whirls her into some sort of elbow-lock that also involves an embrace.
I sip my beer politely and glance away, because this is Not My Business. Twenty feet away, Andi gives me a pointed look and raises one eyebrow. I shake my head. She raises the other one.
“Don’t spill my beer,” Lainey is saying, still laughing. Wyatt’s barely holding onto her, but she doesn’t move away.
“Don’t elbow me,” Wyatt answers.
“Sometimes you need to be elbowed.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I’m allowed to think,” he says and she finally pulls away, tucking a stray loc into place and a hand into the pocket of her jeans.