Page 18 of Hand Picked
“Yeah. We know how it works,” Luke assured him.
“Hot damn,” Van breathed. “I have no idea what the protocol here is! I’m gonna have to tell the mayor, of course.”
He made it sound like we were stealing the fucking thing.
“Jesus. We’ll have it back to you in two minutes, Van. You’re ruining the mood.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed Luke’s free hand. “Come on.”
“Do you know the Unity Pledge?” Van called. “There’s a ritual, you know! You have to hold up your hand and say ‘I, Webb Sunday, pledge unity…’”
The door closed behind us as we ran out into the cold night, cutting him off.
We jogged as far as the gazebo in the center of the town common, when Luke turned to me, laughing so hard he was gasping for air. “This might be… the most ridiculous thing… I’ve ever done.”
“I did some pretty ridiculous stuff as a kid, but it’s been a while. This isnotresponsible dad behavior.” But, shit, for once I didn’t care. We weren’t hurting anyone, or permanently tattooing our faces, or running off to Vegas—God forbid. We were two fully clothed men, having silly fun. And I felt lighter and younger than I had in years.
“M’kay.” Luke held up his hand like he was taking an oath in court. “I, Luke Williams, pledge unity with you, Webb Sunday.”
“Thomas Webb Sunday,” I corrected. “To be official.”
“Oh. Interesting. Okay, Thomas Webb Sunday,” he repeated. Then he blew the bugle.
It sounded like I imagined a flatulent rhinoceros would, and the two of us laughed our asses off.
I held up my hand so we were palm to palm. Luke’s hand was so small and chilly against mine that it was instinctive for me to wrap my fingers around his. “I, Thomas Webb Sunday, pledge unity with you, Luke Williams.” Then I took the bugle and blew it also, long and loud enough folks probably heard it in Two Rivers.
And it might have been the alcohol talking—okay, it was definitely the alcohol talking—but the whole thing felt weirdly important. Momentous. Right.
At least it did until I noticed the town meeting had let out and the entire population of Little Pippin Hollow was standing around the town common, justwatchingus.
“Is that the Unity Bugle?” a woman’s shocked voice demanded.
“Mother of God, is that Webb and the teacher? Are they holding hands? Have they blown it?”
“Did you say Webb blew the teacher?”
“They’ve recited the vows!” a man’s voice exclaimed.
“They said they knew how it worked,” Van confirmed. “They said they wanted to cement the change in their relationship.”
“Did someone tell the mayor? Has the scroll been invoked?”
The scroll?
I snickered at the confusion on Luke’s face, which perfectly reflected my own.
“Not a hundred percent sure what’s happening right now,” I whispered. “But I feel like we failed at uncomplicating things.”
And that feeling was confirmed a moment later when my brother’s voice rang out across the common.
“Webb Sunday,what have you done?”
ChapterFive
LUKE
I closed my car door gently and quietly outside of Panini Jack’s diner and leaned against the cold metal for a second. Morning sunlight glinted off the snowdrifts and icicles, making kaleidoscopic strobe-light flashes against my closed eyelids, and I knew exactly how the Rusty Spike had come by its name because every flash of light did, indeed, make me feel like my skull was being impaled.
Hooray for truth in advertising.
