Page 6 of No, You Hang Up

“Is,” I repeat. “Don’t you dare speak ill of the legacy of Robin Williams in this house. Now give me the remote.” I reach out to her, fingers curling, only for Em to roll her eyes up at me and frown.

“I have it,” Mads says from my other side, her legs kicked out on the sofa and her head on my shoulder. She sits up with a huff and gets to her feet to grab the leftover trash from the table. “But also, I have a better idea. I need a movie break, and you’re frowning a lot.”

“I always frown.” Handing her my empty soda can, I glance toward the remote on the far end table, wondering if I can make a grand swoop for it. Or if I care to try that much. “What’s your idea for this interlude? Soft music? Dancing? Ordering more food? We haven’t even cracked open the pie yet.”

Which, now that I’m thinking about it, sounds like a really fantastic idea. Em must think so too, because she shoves to her feet and walks to the counter to tear open the boxes of pies that have hopefully de-thawed enough for us not to break our teeth on them.

“Don’t ask me why I was thinking about this the other day,” Mads begins, dumping the few dishes we used into my sink and tossing the trash in my kitchen garbage. I don’t get up from the sofa, but I drag my legs up under me and fix her with a confused look. “Before we met you, when Em and I were in high school, we downloaded a few prank call apps. They’re like apps you can call from to disguise your number,” she explains, immediately making me tilt my head in disapproval. “Don’t look like that, okay? It’s really not a big deal. It’s lighthearted fun.”

“Is it?” I ask as Em glances wearily back at us. “Like, is it actually? I feel like I’ve seen a lot of police procedurals about prank calling and it’s never just lighthearted fun.”

“We’re not murdering anyone, Kai.” Mads’ voice is brittle and unamused. “Anyway, the other day I was thinking about it, and I went looking online to see if the apps we used still exist. They don’t.”

“Shocker. Almost like it’snotthat kind of—” I begin, but she cuts me off smoothly.

“There are new ones now. Apparently better. Some have built in recordings where you just put in the number you want to call, but I’m not interested in that. We used to have the best time with it.” She walks back over to the couch and grabs my phone from the table before I can stop her. “Look.” Handing it back to me, she shows me the app store screen forPrankr, an app to do exactly what she’s just said.

“Was it actually fun? Didn’t you piss people off?” I ask, directing my question toward Em. She shrugs and gives me a soft, almost rueful smile.

“We never made it that big of a deal,” she admits. “We never made it seem serious, or anything like that. Most people knew what we were doing the second they picked up. They’d either hang up or play along.”

While that sounds not quite as bad as I was expecting, I still shake my head in disbelief. “And you want to do thatnow? We’re adults. You guys are older than me, you should be the mature ones.”

“By a year,” Madalynn remarks, eyeing me flatly. “There’s not a lot of difference between twenty-two and twenty-one,Grandmother.Come on. Three calls. One for each of us. It’s stupid, like going on those chat roulette sites and ending up paired with weirdos or other people looking to just mess around.”

That doesn’t seem fun to me either, but I doubt she wants to hear it. Still, I really don’t want to argue with her. Especially since I know once Mads has an idea, she’ll hold on to it like a dog with a bone. Reluctantly, I download the app, shifting to curl my legs up under me. “This seems like the worst idea ever,” I tell her. “Promise me we’ll watchRVafter this?”

“Cross my heart,” Madalyn assures me.

“Hope to die,” I mutter automatically in response.

four

Madalyn definitely has no fear, and I can’t help wondering if she’s done this sometime in the last few years or months.

Or weeks.

She easily navigates through the app, all the while looking at a notes doc of numbers that definitely seems premeditated. There’s no way she wasn’t planning this, and I feel a bit of distaste at feeling like I was set up.

But this is how Madalyn is. How she’s always been since I’ve known her. I push down my dislike of feeling like Mads is steering this night in her direction, and to her benefit, more than mine. Instead, I let out a breath and lean back against the sofa with my ass firmly on the floor. She’s talking, but I’m not quite listening.

How can I, when from the corner of my eye her face and Em’s look almost blurred?

Almost like my nightmare.

It hadn’t been completely inaccurate, I can’t help but admit to myself. I barely recognized most of my extended family, due to not spending much time with them after I turned nine.

After Uncle Robert did something to make mecryand blame him for hurting me on my birthday. After that, my family distanced themselves from me. Everyone, including my dad.

At the funeral, I felt like everyone wanted me to come out and admit I lied to them. That they all wanted me to hold up a sign saying that I made it all up, or I made a mistake.

That I deserved it.

When Madalyn hangs up, I distantly hear her laughing. Cackling, if I’m being unkind. Em is laughing along, though less convincingly, leading me to believe she’s not as into this as Mads is. Not that it surprises me whatsoever. Em usually just goes along with whatever our other friend asks, in a misplaced devotion I haven’t seen sinceLassie.

She’d probably even single-handedly pull Mads out of a well, if it came down to that. Glancing sidelong at them, I watch as Em takes the phone again for her second round, though her fingers shake as she dials in the numbers Mads gives her. She says only a few words before breaking into a nervous giggle, and in seconds she hangs up the phone and looks to Madalyn for validation.

But then, inevitably, both of them are looking at me expectantly, and Mads grabs my phone from the coffee table in front of us.

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