But who was he to judge? “You’reGlimmette’s nephew?” she retorted.
Noah glared at her. AJ glared right back.
“Well, this went well,” said Storm. “Come on, Noah. Time to learn about returns.”
For a moment, Noah continued to watch her. Then he nodded to Storm and withdrew through the All-Seeing Eye.
“I don’t think this is working out,” said AJ.
“Play nice,” said Storm, then she followed Noah with a knowing air AJ could not fathom.
AJ arrived home tofind her dad having one of his quiet nights, which was never a good thing. She counted four empty cans of Bud in the trash before bringing the salad bowl to the dinner table. The tension in Patrick’s burly shoulders told her he had done the same.
“Is that Russian dressing?” he asked, taking the bowl and giving AJ a reassuring wink as she slid in between him and their younger brother, Mike.
“You know it,” said AJ, relieved. Having Patrick—and, grudgingly, Libby—home for the summer felt like holding a full deck of cards.
Patrick was the King of Diamonds. While he and AJ shared their father’s height and strawberry-blond hair, on twenty-one-year-old Patrick, it was somehow godlike. Golden. He played point guard for the Minutemen, but he’d always been a star. In high school he’d been class president and tri-captain. Everyone loved Pat.
Across the table sat Libby, the Queen of Clubs. Packaged in a five foot two frame, with straight blond hair that dried frizz-free in July, nineteen-year-old Libby was a born ruler. She had dominated Gladstone High with an iron pom-pom as head cheerleader, and her hive had followed her right to UMass.
Beside Libby was Emily, AJ’s twin, the Ace of Hearts. Emily had fine blond hair, a rollicking sense of humor, and a deep, abiding love of Shania Twain. She also had Down syndrome and a knack for bringing out the good in others—even Libby.
Last was Mike, the one-eyed Jack of Spades. Slight and quick-witted, with dark hair that must have been recessive, fifteen-year-old Mike lived forSuper Mario,Dungeons & Dragons, andAstronauticals.
He was also the most likely to set off their father.
Sure enough, as the seven of them began passing platters and bowls, a chirping erupted under the table, and their dad zeroed in.
“Mike, that better not be what I think it is,” he murmured. Mike ignored him and kept playing.
Once a week, the two of them got into it over Mike gaming at the table. This never failed to frustrate AJ. She wasalsonerdy. Not as nerdy as Mike, but nerdy enough tooccasionallytag along to his Science Fiction Society of the Berkshires meetings. And yet, she somehow managed to blend in, to be liked, to not provoke their father like it was her job. So why couldn’t Mike?
Bleep-bloop,went Mike’s Game Boy.
AJ nudged him under the table, one eye on her dad. She had to cut the tension. Her next words popped out. “What’s the deal with Noah Drew?”
“Why do you care?” asked Libby, predatory senses activating.
AJ shrugged as all eyes pivoted to her.God fucking damn it,was sheblushing? “He’s working at Reel World as of today.”
Mike snickered. “He’s working in a video store?” he said without looking up from his game. “Isn’t that kind of like getting a job waxing his own family’s portraits?”
“I wouldn’t think he’d need a job.” AJ’s mom sniffed, tilting her pretty blond head.
Katie Graves was an older version of Libby, a former cheerleader who had fallen for AJ’s dad at UMass while he, like Patrick, had been starting point guard. She’d become the most beloved second-grade teacher in town, while he’d become a successful-if-small-time actuary.
For all outward appearances, they were perfectly normal.
Libby shrugged, all-knowing. “It’s probably the only job Noah could get after what happened. We all know Storm’s okay with weirdos—case in point.” She nodded at AJ, who flipped her off.
Emily sat up a little, bored with a conversation that didn’t include her. “Can I have dessert?”
Bleep-bop.
“Mike,” said their father warningly. AJ kneed Mike harder.
“One sec,” he breathed.
