“Richard Stroker?” Hazel gapes at me from over the top of her drink. “His name is Dick Stroker? I knew tonight was going to be awesome.”
Adam blinks at her side, confused. “I don’t get it.”
There are about a hundred unsaid things in the look she gives me before she returns her attention to Dick.
“We’ll play seven rounds tonight,” Dick says. “Pop culture, music, math and science, world history, sports”—Adam does a little fist pump here—“wildlife, and grammar.” A collective boo moves through the crowd at the last one, but he continues. “You’ll notice several large television sets around the bar—courtesy of Bob’s Sports, thank you, Bob—where the questions will be displayed. Everyone should have seven scorecards, each one labeled with its respective category. We’ll score each category individually and then tally them for a cumulative winner at the end. Who wants to know what we’re playing for?”
I laugh when Hazel’s arm is the first to shoot up.
“Third place will receive a set of new steak knives from Kizer. Kizer: Because Chinese knives can be awesome, too. Our second-place team will win a year’s subscription to Omaha Steaks, valued at over three hundred dollars.” The room fills with the collective ring of ooohs and ahhhs. “Our last prize is the big one, folks. Because all the proceeds of tonight’s game go to the Children’s Cancer Fund, Budget Cruises has generously donated a three-day Pacific Coast cruise!”
While Cali and Adam are listening to the rules, Hazel leans across the table. “You have to be on my team.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” I remind her, “we’re supposed to be on dates. With other people. Play with Adam.” I straighten, but she reaches out, grabbing my shirt.
“I want that cruise, Josh, and you’re smarter.”
“Why do you think I’m smarter?”
“I saw Adam flexing in the windows outside the car. Call it a hunch.”
“Hazel, a normal cruise is bad enough. You really want an all-you-can-eat buffet on a budget cruise?”
“It’s free.”
“Diarrhea is never free.”
She drops back in her chair and I know I’m going to regret this.
“Fine,” I say. “But you owe me. Next time we do this, I pick what we do.”
She immediately perks up. “Next time?”
I quickly clarify. God, it’s been two seconds and she already looks smug. “If we do this again. Look, I can admit it’s been good to get out of the house. I was spending too much time at home and—”
“—wallowing.”
“No.”
“Playing with yourself because nobody else wants to?”
I give her a warning look. “It’s possible you were right—about the wallowing.”
“Possibly,” she says with a small smile.
“Plus—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—I just really like to win.”
“I knew it! I knew you were as competitive as me.” She points to my stomach. “I mean, a person doesn’t get abs like that without a lot of drive—”
“Everything okay?” Adam asks.
“Of course!” Hazel leans closer, reaching for his arm and lowering her voice, but I can still hear her. We can all still hear her. “Hey, would it be okay if I was on Josh’s team? He’s not very good at this kind of thing and I don’t want him to feel bad. Shaky confidence, you know.”
“I’m right here,” I deadpan.
“Of course,” Cali volunteers with a sympathetic nod. “Adam and I can team up!”
With that settled, a grinning Hazel hands out the cards. By the time I get mine, she’s already written our team name across the top: Stephen Hawking’s School of Religion.
The first round is pop culture, and at the opening question—The character Jar Jar Binks first appeared in which Star Wars movie?—she immediately scribbles down the correct answer.
The questions fly out, and by round five, we’ve somehow managed to get all of them right.
“Wow,” Cali says, looking across the table to our total, and then frowning down at their own. “Who knew you guys were so smart? Guess poor Josh didn’t need that much help after all . . .”
“What can I say, I’m an encyclopedia of useless information.” Hazel gives her an innocent shrug before quickly pointing to the stage. “Oh look, Dick is back.”
“Our next category—and judging by the number of Budweiser cans in the recycling bin, one a lot of you have been waiting for—sports!”
“Yes!” Adam slams a hand on the table, knocking over his beer just as Cali groans. “Fucking finally.”
“Now, this one’s a little tough,” Dick says, looking out over the room.
“Bring it!” Adam yells, full of confidence and beer.
“ESPN analyst Lee Corso played football in college. He attended Florida State in the midfifties and roomed with another player who would eventually go on to find further success on the silver screen. Who was Lee Corso’s soon-to-be-famous roomie?”
Adam looks absolutely stumped. Cali looks about two seconds away from walking out. I have zero idea who Onetime Football Player Turned ESPN College Football Analyst’s Eventually Famous Roommate could be, but when I glance at Hazel, her eyes are wide, glazed over with what I’m beginning to understand is recognition.
“I know this . . .” she mumbles.
“How could you possibly know that?” Cali asks. “You don’t even like sports.”
Leaning across the table again, Hazel pulls me close. “My dad loved Dolly Parton and any time she was on TV, he’d record it. He used to watch reruns of her show.”
I wait, confident she’s leading us somewhere useful. “Okay?”
“The answer is Burt Reynolds. I know it.”
I sit back in my chair. Burt Reynolds played halfback at Florida State University. She’s fucking right. Hazel Bradford is a genius.
By the time we get to the last round I can’t believe how much fun I’m having. Adam is talking to a girl at the next table and I have a pang of guilt when Cali starts playing on her phone, but Hazel and I are practically on the edge of our seats. According to the scoreboard—and with the final card to be tallied—the top two teams are tied and we need the next question to win. I’ve never wanted a terrible cruise more.
Dick has taken off his sports jacket, and shuffles a set of notecards in front of him, building up the suspense as he prepares to ask the final question.
“All right,” he says, speaking solemnly into the microphone. “This is it. It’s sudden death so we’re going to do this one a little differently. When you have completed your answer, please send a team captain to the stage so we can see if you’re correct and, indeed, the winner. Good luck, everyone.” He takes a deep breath before dropping his eyes to the card.
“The term pronoun covers many words in the English language. For the final question, name eight types of pronouns.”
Hazel puts her pencil to the paper and hesitates for only a beat.
“I only know two,” I whisper, but she’s already writing. A second later, she tears off her sheet, stands from the table, and races up onto the stage.