“Yes. Yes, he is. There are also three pairs of Crocs, in varying colors, because as Thatch says, ‘Every good birthday deserves a theme.’”
Ace and I split apart, jumping to the sides of the front porch as Thatch and Nathan carry the crocodile box through the front door, Cassie holding it open for them with a smile on her face.
I rush through after them, not wanting to miss a moment of my parents’ reaction, and Ace crowds me at my back, positioning us just to the side of the kitchen with his hands at my hips as Nathan and Thatch set the container on the kitchen counter among the appetizers. It jumps as the little croc lashes out at the plastic sides of its container, knocking the carrots I was just eating to the floor, and I put a hand to my mouth. “Oh, dear God.”
Gunnar leans against the living room wall, talking to Lexi, and my mom comes down the stairs, her attention turned back toward Evie, who’s yapping behind her. “Evie, please. I need a break from the interrogation about your father and me. If you’re that concerned about something, why don’t you just come out and say it?”
“Evie!” I caution quickly, pulling her up short before she can add to the already tense moment with questions about dick-pic screenshots. “Not now.”
“Julia, if your sister has something she wants to ask me, she should just—”
“Mom,” I interrupt. “Look at the counter.”
She spins to face the island, spying the mess first and then trailing slow eyes up to the culprit. Thatch and Cassie stand proudly on the other side, a pair of Crocs on their hands so they can dance them around.
“Is that a…”
“Hey, Georgie,” my dad calls, his voice rising as he makes his way down the stairs. “Have you seen my green tie? I can’t find the one with the—”
My mom smacks his stomach, and he stops talking, his keen eyes falling directly on the box on the counter.
“What in thefuckis that?”
I choke on my saliva, and Ace squeezes my hips behind me as we all brace for impact.
“Happy birthday, T-bag! If you’re not crockin’, you’re not rockin’.”
Oh my God. “Things are about to go nuclear,” I whisper.
Ace provides the countdown. “In three, two, one…”
Ace
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Julia’s dad yells, the volume well outdoing the music and bringing everyone else up silent. I cover Julia’s ears with my hands as a makeshift pair of those protective mitts, but she moves them away, fear that she’ll miss something being said. “Seriously, Thatch. You need a diagnosis! That’s a fucking crocodile!”
“Fluff yeah, son. I picked it out special, just for you,” my dad booms. “But why are you screaming, Special K? Maybe you should lower your voice.”
“Why am I screaming?” Kline Brooks keeps shouting. A prominent vein is now bulging from the center of his forehead. “Because you brought a fucking crocodile to my house!”
“His name is Crocky,” my dad corrects him. “And he’s a little sweetie pie. A little snappy at times, but sweet.”
“Sweet?” Kline questions in outrage. “He’s sweet? He’s a reptile with fucking teeth, Thatch! Pretty sure he almost bit Nathan!”
“At least he’s not a sex offender,” Evie whispers into the small void.
Julia gasps in front of me before whispering, “Oh, Evie. Nooo.”
“What?” Kline asks, his head whipping around lightning-fast. “What did you just say?”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” Julia whispers.
But Evie is undeterred. One hand to her hip, she keeps going despite her father’s pulsating forehead vein and wide eyes. “I said at least he’s not a sex offender,” Evie repeats,this time at full volume.
Oh boy. Is it just me or is this going somewhere ugly fast?
I suck my lips into my mouth before releasing them on a whistle and wrapping my arms around Julia to protect her from whatever shrapnel is about to fly our way.
“What in the hell are you talking about, Evie?” Kline is clearly confused but still very, very mad. “A sex offender?”
