Page 11 of The Surprise

But Gabe jabs Ethan’s upper arm just below his shoulder with a fork before I can.

“Hey.” Ethan yanks the fork out of his hand and chucks it at his little brother’s head.

Now Gabe’s crying and turning toward his mother to make Ethan look even more villainous.

So maybe things aren’tquiteperfect.

Still, I’d take this mostly well-intentioned chaos over my miserable silence any day. And twice on Saturdays.

“These rolls are amazing,” Aunt Donna says.

Amanda reaches into the basket in the center of the table and feels around. “Looks like they’re all gone.”

“There are more on the pan.” Abigail starts to stand.

“I’ll get them.” I grab the basket and hop up, racing toward the oven. It’s hard to be helpful in this group. Everyone’s so quick to do things. Since I didn’t make the meal, refilling the roll basket feels like the least I can do.

While I’m busy, the conversation gallops off in another direction. It’s such a startling contrast to my usual dinner, eaten alone in front of the television, that I can’t help myself.

Abigail, Ethan, Emery, Izzy, and Gabe are all on one side of the table. I know Whitney’s technically their other sibling and not Emery, but it’s close enough. I pull out my phone and frame up a photo—the light from the front windows makes the whole room glow. Everyone’s smiling—Izzy and Abigail are laughing, their heads thrown back. Ethan’s smirking, and Gabe has a look of righteous indignation on his face. Emery looks pleasantly involved, like the Mona Lisa of the scene.

I snap a photo, like an outsider looking into a Norman Rockwell painting, and slide my phone back into my pocket.

“Where are those rolls?” Amanda asks. “Please tell me there really are more.”

She doesn’t look like someone who usually eats rolls, but I can see why she’d make an exception for these.

Excess roll demands notwithstanding, dinner’s pretty much over. Abigail starts pointing and her children hop up to start cleaning with just a little grumbling. Even when my aunt Donna tries to load the dishwasher for them, they refuse her help and do it themselves. They’re moving around me so quickly with such a sense of purpose that I feel pretty out of place.

“So how’s school?” Maren asks me when I sit again.

“Huh?” I ask. “Oh, it’s fine.”

“Be honest. Are the guys hot?”

I can’t help curling my lip.

“No?” Maren blinks. “Because I’ve met a lot of adults who seem pretty good-looking for their age.”

“Who?” I can’t help the shock in my tone.

Maren lowers her voice. “That vet, the doctor.”

I laugh. “Dr. Dutton and Dr. Archer.” I’m careful to keep my voice low, but I can’t help noticing that Maren’s mom and Ethan’s mom kind of scooped up the most eligible bachelors in town within minutes of arrival. I shake my head. “Neither of them have children. The guys at our school are. . .disappointing.”

“So, like, would Ethan be considered hot?”

As if he’s a dog who just heard the word ‘treat,’ Ethan’s head perks up and turns toward me. He smiles.

So, of course, I lie. “Probably not.”

His face falls a little.

“What college do you want to go to?” Maren asks.

“Huh?”

“You said you can’t wait to go to school.” She sighs. “Mom’s pressing me to get some plan together, and I just don’t want to deal with it. Maybe I can just tell her that I want to go wherever you want to go.”

---