The camera shakes in her hand. “Oh?”
“She’s my boss,” I clarify.
Suddenly Finley turns around and bends over. Her entire body heaves and her shoulders start to shake convulsively. Is she crying? I get up from my perch and walk over to her. “Finley, it’sokay. Really, there was no harm done.” That’s when I realize I’ve gotten it all wrong. She isn’t crying, she’s laughing.
“Yourboss?” she demands between hiccups of merriment.
“Yup. My boss.”
Tears are pouring out of Finley’s eyes as she gasps, “I took pirate photos of you and … and … sent them to yourboss?”
“You did,” I tell her. “But that’s not the worst part.”
She stands up and stares at me with a look of trepidation. “What’s the worst part?”
“My boss now knows what a horrible pirate I am.”
Finley practically spits during her next bout of laughter. Her amusement is so contagious, I join her. “Can you imagine the look on Constance’s face when you emailed those to her?”
“She must have thought it was some kind of pitiful prank.” She hiccups again. “Can you imagine pulling a trick like that on someone? Who would do something that awful?”
“My family is known for pulling out all the stops on April Fool’s Day,” I tell her. “We get really competitive about it.” She looks surprised, which confirms that most people don’t take it as far as the Culpepper clan.
“What was the worst prank they ever played on you?” she asks.
An image immediately pops into my head. “We were going on vacation one spring, and my mom told me we were leaving the morning of April first. She said all pranks were called off that year because we’d be traveling and she didn’t need the extra stress.”
“And that was a lie?” Finley’s eyes opening widely in what can only be construed as fear for my tweenage self.
“Oh, we went away. Just not like to Hawaii like we were supposed to.”
“Oh, dear.” I appreciate her sympathetic tone. “Where did you go?”
“Cleveland.”
Finley exhales loudly. “No.”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“Cleveland? As in Cleveland, Ohio?”
“My dad had a medical conference. He and my mom concocted the story about Hawaii.”
“Thomas, that’s not a prank, that’s just mean.”
“It is and it isn’t,” I tell her. Then I explain, “We actually went to Hawaii two weeks later.”
“Still.” Her expression makes it clear she’s appalled on my behalf. “What did you do in Cleveland?”
“We swam in the hotel pool, a lot,” I tell her. “My mom took us to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and to the house where they filmedA Christmas Story. I wore Hawaiian shirts the whole time.”
Finley’s eyes fill with moisture and I’m not sure if she’s going to laugh again or cry. I’m not sure she knows either. “Did you ever forgive them?”
“Two weeks later when we landed in Kauai,” I assure her. “But I never forgot.”
Her posture relaxes. “Have you ever gotten even?”
“I’ve tried,” I tell her. “But nothing I’ve ever done has come close to that practical joke. They truly are the masters.”
