“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 downHodagscaves red eyes.
“What else?” he asks.
* * *
Andi’s auntLucia 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 mesweetheartand Frank calls mechamp, and I’m pretty sure he’s not even kidding.
No one has ever called mechampbefore. 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 alook.
“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 evensayanything.”
“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.
“Sorry,” she says to me, and I shake my head and sort of shrug all at once, because I’m sort of drunk and sort of floaty in the best way, and also if I say something it might be about her and Wyatt and whatever’s going on there, which is none of my business.
