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“No fucking way,” Hugh argued. “There are two Biggses in this group, so it should be Team Biggs on three.”
“Hold up,” Patrick warned. “We need to vote first.”
“Fine,” Hugh said, holding his hand up. I blushed with heat. “All in favor of Liz joining the gang, raise your hands.”
Everyone raised their hands.
I beamed with happiness.
“Then it’s official,” Hugh said, turning to smile at me. “You’re one of us now.”
“I am?”
“That means we keep each other’s secrets and stick together, no matter what.”
My heart leapt. “No matter what?”
“Yeah, Liz.” Hugh smiled. “No matter what.”
THE BIRDS, THE BEES, AND BULLING COWS
Hugh
NOVEMBER 1, 1994
“WELL, OUR WEDDING IS GOING TO BE SUPERSPECIAL.” CLAIRE CONTINUED TO HARPon all the way through breakfast the following morning. “Gerard will wear a tuxedo, and I’ll wear a big, white princess dress like Cinderella.” She hoofed half a pancake into her mouth and continued. “And we’ll have a horse and carriage like Barbie and Ken, and we’ll have our honeymoon on the moon.”
“Don’t forget the babies, Claire-Bear,” Gibsie chimed in from his perch beside her, while he too inhaled his stack of pancakes. “We’re having ten babies, aren’t we?”
“Yes, Gerard, but the babies come after the honeymoon,” my sister reminded him. “When we do the smooching and you give me the special hug.”
I arched a brow. “The special hug?”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, with an eager nod. “You know, like the special hug Daddy gave Mammy to put us in her tummy.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, dropping my head in my hands, while the girl sitting beside me snickered into her hand.
“They’re so strange,” Lizzie whispered in my ear, causing the hair on my arms to shoot up.
“Tell me about it,” I whispered back, daring myself to take a peek at her. Yep, my heart still slammed at the sight of her this morning.
“That’s not how it works,” Feely informed everyone at the table. “Bulls have balls like boys have, and cows have vaginas like girls have.” He then proceeded to clear his throat, armed and ready with enough farm-life knowledge to shatter their innocence. “The balls store sperm, and the sperm has to shoot out of the penis and go into the cow’s vagina to impregnate her.”
Gibsie’s and Claire’s mouths dropped open in unison.
“We call that bulling a cow,” Feely continued between mouthfuls of cereal. “The bull would have to mount the cow to put her in calve, or she would need to be artificially inseminated.”
“What’s that?” Lizzie asked, looking just as wide-eyed now as Gibs and Claire.
“Please don’t, Feely,” I begged, having heard this exact speech from his father when I went on a playdate to his house last spring and ended up in the calving shed.
“The farmer would collect the sperm from the bull, load it into the insemination gun, and shoot it into the cow’s vu—”
“Okay, Feely!” I yelled, loud enough to block his voice out. “La, la, la, la! That’s enough for one day, lad.”
“Ew,” Claire groaned, looking at Gibsie in horror. “Just ew.”
“Maybe we’ll just have pets,” Gibsie offered, looking queasy. “Because I don’t think I want to shoot you with the bull gun, Claire-Bear.”
