Charlie finally unplugs his phone from the cord. “You think you’ve ruined those for me, but you haven’t.”
Olivia flips on the radio, and we’re back to Christmas tunes.
“What’s up with Uncle Ronnie?” I ask. “He basically ran out of the kitchen when Nonna brought in the cannoli.”
Olivia lets out a laugh. “He refuses to eat them.”
“Why?” I ask. “That’s like the best thing she makes.”
“Because of us,” Wes says. I glance at him quickly in the mirror, and he’s watching me right back.
“Us? What did we do to him?” I ask.
Charlie leans forward and answers. “Remember when we found that powder in Papa’s medicine cabinet that makes you go to the bathroom?”
“Oh my God!” I squeal.
“Yep,” Wes says.
Freshman year, we were trying to get the Evil Joes back for something—I can’t even remember what it was—so we thought it would be hilarious to put some of that powder in their drinks. Except we poured it in Uncle Ronnie’s glass instead. And because we’re poor communicators, we all took a turn adding it to his drink, not realizing the other three had done the same.
Needless to say, Uncle Ronnie was stuck in the bathroom for a while.
“But that was only one time! Three years ago! And the cannoli had nothing to do with it.”
“But, remember, she made a huge batch that night. And he stuffed himself with them. That’s what he thinks did it,” Olivia says.
“Oh, that’s terrible.” But I can’t help the giggle that escapes.
Charlie shrugs. “More for us.”
Wes leans forward. “Charlie and I have been trying to get him to eat one for the past year, but every time we mention it, he turns green.” Wes turns to Charlie and says, “Remember when we bet him the Saints would beat the Cowboys and when we won, we told him he had to eat a cannoli?”
“Yes, and he made Aunt Patrice eat it for him.”
Wes’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. “We have been trying to get him over it, but the guy won’t budge.”
“Hewasin the bathroom for a really long time,” Olivia adds.
“Speaking of pranks,” I say. “Anyone ready to fess up about who faked that love note to me from Ben from down the street?”
“Olivia!” Charlie shouts.
“Charlie!” Wes shouts.
“Wes!” Olivia shouts.
“Someday, I’m going to figure out who did it!” I say with a grin. “Y’all knew I had a crush on him. And I made a fool of myself when I rode my bike to his house with a platter full of those Key-lime-pie cookies to tell him how much I loved his letters.” I had helped Nonna make some cookies for Ben’s mom’s book club the week before, so when I got a letter saying how much he loved those cookies, I made a double batch and raced them to his house. “He looked like a deer in headlights!”
They’re all cracking up.
“That’s okay. I’ll figure it out and get you back.”
“Since you’ll have to hang out with us to get us back, I welcome your revenge,” Charlie says, then begs us to change the station.
“Olivia, we’re here.”
I’m nudging her awake and she keeps pushing my hand away from her. She fell asleep about an hour and a half ago, about thirty minutes after Charlie and thirty minutes before Wes. She pries her eyes open and tries to figure out where we are.
