Page 88 of The Puckable Playbook

She lifts her shoulders, but the laughter has died somewhere inside, replaced with something else. She goes quiet. Stoic.

“Alright, get saddled up, unicorns,” my dad announces. “This train’s about to jet off to a park!”

I lean into Len’s ear as I guide her toward the couch. “I hope you’re not quiet because you don’t want to be my girlfriend.”

“That’s not it. I’m worried people will make fun of you.”

She thought the shirt was hilarious before she found out hers saidgirlfriend, so this isn’t about the shirt itself, this is about her.

While my mom and sister buckle in, I sit her in her seat, pull the lap restraint over her, and whisper, “If we weren’t with my parents right now, I’d fuck that worried look off your face, sweetie.”

Her eyes flash to mine, desire and heat overtaking the mixed emotions.

Standing up, I ask, “You in?”

She nods, and I sit as the RV starts rolling. I lock my seat belt into place and grab her hand, interlacing our fingers. Her palm is sweaty, and she moves incrementally closer to me.

“Look at them,” Mom says to Izzy, poking her with her elbow.

Izzy grins. “He did good for once.”

I scratch my face with my middle finger, and my mom pretends not to see Izzy return it subtly.

Keeping to his word, Dad doesn’t go far. After a few minutes of Izzy talking about her recent game, he pulls into a park. Mom serves up the chicken and dumplings, and we eat, talk, and laugh through lunch. Lenore fits in seamlessly, like she was always a part of the James puzzle.

“So, what are you writing right now?” my dad asks her.

“Oh, she’s not giving it up,” I warn. “It’s some sort of top-secret document.”

“Oh really?” he asks, clearly intrigued.

“Well, only to your son. I’ll be happy to tell you later when he’s playing.”

My dad winks at her, and I scoff, “Are you kidding me? I didn’t know that.”

She shrugs, and Izzy holds out a fist, “Well played, sis.”

“Aww, I always wanted a sister,” Len muses as she touches her knuckles to Iz’s.

Izzy’s eyes widen. “Me too!”

My mom starts laughing. “She once wrote me a document with bullet points of all the reasons why we should have another daughter. When I pointed out we couldn’t guarantee the baby would be a girl, she dropped it.”

“I didn’t want to be outnumbered.”

“I always wanted two,” my mom says, reaching out her hands to both Izzy and me and squeezing.

“Too bad only one is going to make you proud,” I quip. “And you are outnumbered because I’m twice the size of you.”

Izzy shoots her napkin at me. “I’ll have you know Mom made me fudge because I aced my math test.”

I gasp with over-the-top exaggeration, placing a hand on my chest. “Blasphemy.”

Iz shrugs with all the poise of a powerful queen.

“You know how she struggles with math,” Mom whispers.

“Hey,” Izzy contests. “It’s hard, okay?”

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