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“I don’t know.”
“Where did you hear that from?”
“I overheard someone talking while I was walking after you guys left.”
“It’s probably the Morenos. Aren’t lawyers sue happy?”
“Why would they sue? They’re the brightest house in the neighborhood!”
“Because they’re hypocrites. Speaking of, I wonder where Spoiled Boy got a golf cart for his neighborhood disturbance tonight.”
“It was probably one of his friends’.” I said it like I didn’t know exactly whose it was.
“Ah, right, the even more spoiled boys.”
In the past I would’ve joined in, agreed. But hadn’t I just gotten my feelings hurt that Ryan’s parents had said bad things about our family? I couldn’t turn around and do the same thing. I wanted Marcus to like Ryan. If I ever wanted my moms to be on my side, I needed Marcus to be too. “Ryan was just sitting there. His friends were the annoying ones.”
“Doesn’t Mom always say you are the company you keep?”
“Something like that,” I said.
“I’m just saying, a lawsuit seems like something they’d do.”
“Who would do what?” Momma asked, coming into the kitchen followed by Mom.
“Nothing,” I snapped, then gave Marcus wide eyes so he’d keep his mouth shut.
“I was worried Harris had gotten into the butter,” Marcus said, covering for me.
“Did he?” Mom asked.
He snapped the lid onto the spreadable butter container. “I don’t know. It seems like something he’d do, though.” His voice was calm, even. He was a much better liar than me. It suddenly made me wonder if he lied a lot. To our moms. To me. Had he just been lying when he acted like he didn’t see Ryan climbing down from my window earlier?
“Do you two want to watch It’s a Wonderful Life?” Momma asked.
“Ugh. No,” Marcus said. “I have to scroll on my phone for an hour and then do some homework.”
“Reverse the order of that and we have a deal,” Mom said.
“Fine,” he agreed.
“I’ll watch with you,” I said, probably due to my guilty conscience.
“Are you going to be upset if it doesn’t snow before Christmas?” Marcus asked the next morning as we headed to the car. I’d been frowning up at the sky again.
“Yes,” I said, adjusting my backpack and zipping up my coat.
He shoved my shoulder. “Don’t let your disappointment ruin Christmas.”
“I’m going to,” I said with a smile in his direction.
“That sounds like you. So spill,” he said, opening the car door.
“Spill?” I asked, playing innocent.
“Last night?”
Was he finally asking about Ryan and the ladder or did he mean the lawsuit? I’d stick to what I knew he knew. “I told you everything I heard. Someone in this neighborhood is suing the city for noise and light pollution.”
