Page 43 of Faux Real
“Cooler?” I snort. What is she going on about? “What is it?”
“Okay!” Kennedy giggles, taking a step back from me. “Watch!” She takes a piece of popcorn out of her wine glass and tosses it into the air, tilting her head back and catching it in her mouth triumphantly. “Ta-da!”
“Wow, so talented,” I tease, clapping my hands. “Are you thinking about going pro anytime soon? Better get in now. I hear the food tossing game is competitive these days.”
“One more! That was a warm-up toss!” Kenny frowns, registering my sarcasm. “I can throw it much higher!” She hikes another piece into the air and staggers backward attempting to catch it. My eyes widen as she nears the edge of the pool.
“Watch ou—” As soon as the popcorn touches her tongue, she loses balance and falls into the pool, water splashing on my shoes. “Shit! Are you alright?”
Flapping her arms aggressively, Kennedy coughs as she emerges from the teal water. “My snacks!” she yelps, frowning as she looks at all the pieces floating in the water. “They’re escaping!” She places the empty wine glass on the edge of the pool and starts tossing pieces of wet popcorn into it. “I’ll save you!”
“Whatare you doing?” I ask, utterly flabbergasted as I dip my finger into the water. It’s freezing. She’s a complete nutter. “Get out of the damn pool. You’re going to get hypothermia.”
“I can’t!” she exclaims, wading through the water. “I need to clean up! I need to catch all the kernels! Leave no man behind!”
“Kennedy, get the fuck out of the pool,” I demand, bewildered by her stubbornness. “You’re fully clothed!”
“But the popcorn!” she exclaims, continuing to collect pieces. “You know, I’ve always wondered why they call it popcorn not popped corn because technically it’s corn that’s been popped; hence it should be popped corn, not popcorn, right?”
I blink. “Leave the damn popcorn alone and get out of the water, youcrazygirl!”
“Not until I catch ‘em all!” Kenny pauses and then starts laughing. “Popcorn, gotta catch ‘em all!”
Oh, God.
“I haven’t heard that version before.” I shake my head, letting out a soft laugh. “Is that a remix?”
“Yup! A Carmichael original,” she giggles before diving into the water and emerging with another piece, tossing it into the glass. She pauses at the edge of the pool and tilts her head to meet my gaze. “The popped corn is now soggy corn,womp womp womp.”
I grin at her absurdity as I lower myself down to her level. “It’s the circle of life,” I say, holding out my hand. “Shall we get out now?”
“A Carmichael never gives up!” she states. “A few more pieces.”
I close my eyes. “You’re going to get sick if you stay in there, it’s like five degrees out right now.”
“We’re in America,” she sings, pushing off the side of the pool. “Get with the program, Knight.”
“Seeing as the rest of the world follows the metric system, maybe it’syouwho should get with the program.” I prop myself upright, letting out a sigh. She’s so difficult. “Where are the towels?”
“I dunno,” Kenny murmurs, focusing all her attention on the search. “They used to be on a shelf over there—” She points her finger to an empty space by the lawn chairs. “But not anymore.”
“Okay, well I’m going to go find you a towel and when I come back, I expect you to be finished, yeah?” I ask, getting completely ignored. “Kennedy!”
“Yes sir!” she exclaims, saluting me. “Will do! I just need a couple more minutes!”
“Two minutes!” I reiterate before making my way back inside. Where the fuck would the towels be? Do I just look in every room? That seems rude but what’s the alternative? As I near the end of the hallway, I’m thrilled to spot Lemar pressed up against a wall, a redheaded girl attached to his lips. I clear my throat, trying to get his attention.
“Sorry, mate,” I say as the girl releases her grasp on him. “Don’t mean to interrupt but do you have any towels? Kennedy, she uh— went for a little swim.”
“Oliver, my man,” Lemar laughs, staggering toward me, lit out of his mind. “Yeah, I got towels. Follow me.” He turns his head toward the wasted girl. “Don’t move, babe.” She giggles and nods as we head down the hallway. “So Kenny went for a dip, hey? That’s wild.”
“Yeah, she’s—” I click my tongue. “She’s a wild one.” At least tonight.
Lemar opens the door to the laundry room, grabbing a striped blue and white towel off a shelf before rummaging through a pile of folded clothes. “Here.” He hands me the towel and a large black T-shirt. “In case she needs a change of clothes.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, no worries,” Lemar says, waving me off. “I owe Kenny big time. She stayed up until 3 a.m. helping me study for finals last year. She never even complained or got tired or anything. She’s like a fucking machine.”
