Page 78 of The Surprise
He laughs. “Not really, no.”
“Well, I’m about to either start dating her or get shot down pretty spectacularly.”
“Nice work,” he says. “Shoot your shot, man.”
“Did you play basketball?”
Kevin shrugs. “Some.”
“We should go play sometime.”
“Jeff’s not bad either, and we got a few friends from school who shoot hoops every Saturday. You could come.”
“I’d like that,” I say. They may not be the coolest guys in America, but spending time with more guys my age—or, you know, closer than Gabe and Aiden, anyway—can’t hurt.
“Alright,” I say. “Well, I’ll finish this up, and then I’m going to go shower and get ready.”
Only, I’m nearly done when Aunt Amanda traipses through, talking about the ranch, which is awkward, and then dragging Gabe back to the house. I hope she won’t be all strange and demand I stick around all night tonight. Usually when she’s ‘watching’ us, she’s barely even here. Which is just fine with all of us.
I’m just stacking the last pieces when she shoots back out, a crazed look in her eye.
“Hey, Ethan? You in here?”
I try to avoid any conversations with her when she looks like that, but apparently luck is not on my side. That’s alright. I can handle some crazy interactions with Amanda as long as my bad luck is confined to her. “Everything alright?”
“You’re eighteen,” she says. “You’re an adult.”
For some reason, that sounds borderline creepy. “I am, yeah.”
“And you’re capable of keeping the kids alive and making sure they do their homework and eat, right?”
Um, what exactly is she asking me that for?
“Earlier, you said that winter’s slower on the ranch, and you had time, didn’t you? Because I had an emergency come up, and. . .” She points at the door to the barn as if that makes sense. “I need to go somewhere.”
“Go somewhere?” I hate that I’m repeating what she’s saying, but I don’t understand what’s happening. “Is everything alright?” What could have happened that would make her act all crazy and suddenly leave? Aunt Amanda has never been the most attentive, but she’s never just bailed when she was supposed to be the responsible adult, either.
“I just put a pan of nachos in the oven. They’ll be ready in twenty minutes or so. Tomatoes and lettuce and ranch are already out on the counter. Gabe’s in the bathtub and is ready to get out whenever. Can you hold things down until tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.” I wonder what kind of emergency she’s dealing with. I hope no one’s sick or dying. I’ve never heard her talk about her family, but I think someone said she has brothers. I hope they’re all okay. “Are you alright? Is your family okay?”
“I sure hope so,” she says.
Oh, man. Now I’m even more worried. “Go,” I say.
She disappears like Roscoe sprinting after a squirrel, her car shooting down the driveway even faster than Aunt Helen’s does. And that’s when I remember that I’m supposed to be at the grove in. . .I check my watch.
Twenty-six minutes.
Which is totally fine. I can shower in three and a half minutes, throw on clothes, pull the nachos out, and then I can hop on the four-wheeler and haul balls to the grove. If I’m a minute or two late, it’s fine. It’s not like the girls can’t hold things down until I get back.
They’re teenagers. Even Gabe’s not the walking wrecking ball he used to be.
I shower, I pull the nachos out—the cheese isn’t totally melted, but close enough, and I call everyone in. I make a point of getting Izzy’s attention. “Hey guys, so something came up, and I’m going to have to step out for a bit. Izzy and Maren will be in charge until I’m back and—”
“My tummy hurts,” Gabe says.
“Well, you’re in luck,” I say. “Because dinner is ready.”
