Page 39 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

None of this made any sense.

Breaking my bubble of peace, a screech filled the air. It was the most sincerely heinous thing I’d ever heard—at least since the last time Mr. Pickles had needed a bath. The horrible wail rattled my ear drums. Mavis slapped her sandy hands over her ears, scowling toward the kid with the baseball bat—the culprit behind the noise.

Apparently, he’d injured himself.

His mom, a woman I didn’t recognize, was consoling him, but it wasn’t doing much. Due to the commotion, the festivities were at a standstill. Mom frowned, a tenseness around the corners of her mouth, and immediately, I rose to my feet to help.

“Is he okay?” I called, crossing the yard, ignoring the weight of Alex’s gaze as I did so.

“He scraped his knee,” she said, smiling at me, before turning her attention back to her child. “It’s just a scratch, baby. You’re okay—” I could hear the kid’s mom’s reassurances, but her words were soon drowned out by his anguish once again.

“There’s so muchblood—” Baseball-kid wailed, clutching his injured leg like it was broken—when in reality, it was barely scraped.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my backpack,” I promised. “Give me a second to find where my brother stashed it on the porch and I’ll grab it for you?”

The kid sniffled as he nodded. Relieved, I swiveled to face the porch where I knew Joe had wandered with my bag. Only…apparently Dad had overheard. Because he was no longer manning the grill, and with abject horror, I watched through the gaps in the railing as he bent over to retrieve it.

Shit.

Shit.

He better not open it.

Oh my god.

No.

No.

If my dad opened the pocket, he’d see Neil. He’d see Neil. He’d see?—

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This could not be happening!

Murphy’s Law was a sad, vicious bitch.

Dad reached for the zipper, but before I could protest, or throw up, Alex was pounding up the steps to the porch. He was fucking fast for such a large man. Agile. Which I suppose made sense, considering how active he’d said he was when we’d chatted on the plane. I was right below, and therefore could hear and see just fine when Alex yoinked my backpack out of Dad’s hands with a blurted, “I got this!”

Somehow, this was evenworse.

I didn’t know what to expect.

Had Alex seen an opportunity to humiliate me again?

Was this his way of getting back at me for not forgiving him when he’d apologized earlier? I’d been the one who hadn’t wanted to bury the hatchet. It would be the perfect revenge for him to yank my bag open, grab my dildo, and wave it around for the whole world to see.

My life flashed before my eyes.

Visions of shiny silicone hell nearly blinded me as a cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Frozen still, unable to even react, my cry of panic stuck in my throat. There was nothing I could do to stop Alex. I was simply too far away.

This would live in infamy at every family gathering for the rest of my life.I could see my future now. George-Arthur, the size queen, exiled from his hometown for bringing a dildo to a barbecue.

I grimaced, waiting,expectinghim to open the bag.

But…

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