Reaching Jeffry’s building, I say, “Well, I hope you’ll play nice and make some friends.”
Cautious, he says, “Right…” and I ring the doorbell.
Moments pass, then Jeffry opens up, smiles at me, smiles at my brownies, lifts his attention to the brick wall of a man behind me, and frowns. “Uh… Mira, what’s your boss doing here?”
My mouth opens, and I almost say,he is sad and lonely and needs friends, before I remember that his weird inclination to pester me for my inside thoughts does not generally apply to the masses. “I invited him. I hope that’s okay?”
Jeffry’s face says it’s not, but he rubs the back of his neck and uses his words to convey, “Sure…yeah. Welcome in, man,” as he steps back from the door.
“Pleasure,” Mr. Anders mumbles as he enters behind me.
“Miraaa!” Samuel leaps on me, grinning, as he tosses his arms around my shoulders. “What have you brought us this time?”
“Oi, Sammy. Bug off. They’re mine,” Jeffry snaps, kicking the door closed.
“Finders keepers.” Lifting his half-finished bottle of beer, he asks, “Trade you?”
“Um, no thank you,” I note.
Jeffry shoves Samuel off me, grabs my elbow, and takes me to the place I always sit.
Micheal currently fills the seat as he battles three of the other guys in Mario Party. He mutters, “Hey, man. I can’t see.”
“Move, that’s Mira’s seat,” Jeffry states, as Micheal loses the minigame.
Despite the cussing, Micheal relinquishes his seat, so I slot myself into place.
Gently, Jeffry takes my platter of brownies and says, “I’ll make you your Mudslide.” He turns to the rest of the guys playing and commands, “Loser switches with Mira.”
Nate offers me his controller. “No need to wait. You can jump in for me. I gotta pee.”
I beam. “Yay! Which one am I?”
“Yoshi,” Micheal answers, lifting his controller and looking past me. “Hey, dude. You wanna jump in, too? I’m Micheal. Nate just stepped out. That’s Samuel—”
“Don’t use my government name,” Samuel slurs.
“He goes bySamorSammyand he’s already drunk. Then there’s Quinnon, Richard, and you probably know Jeffry.”
Each of the guys greets Mr. Anders as he lowers himself onto the armrest beside me, bestowing his great big weight on what I suspect is cardboard. It is a wonder the furniture holds as he murmurs, “Nice to meet you all. You can call me Damion.”
From the floor, Samuel lifts his beer. “You Mira’s boyfriend or something?”
Quinnon kicks Samuel in the side.
“Um. No,” Mr. Anders says, eyeing Quinnon.
“Did you want to play a few rounds?” Micheal asks, holding out his controller.
Mr. Anders shakes his head. “That’s okay. I’ll just watch for a bit.”
“You a wrestler?” Samuel asks while I do my very best to beat the minigame that starts up.
“No.”
“Football player?”
“No.”
