Page 25 of The Amazing Alpha Tau Fratmas Experience
“How was the drive up?” Billy asked, sliding the bowl of chips in my direction.
“Great!” I said, nudging Squirrel’s nose away from the bowl. It had been more than great. From Harrisonburg all the way out to the cabin, the scenery had looked like something off a Christmas card, with the sunlight sparkling on the snow-clumped branches of the pine trees and the air so cold you could taste the freshness even with the windows up and the heat on in my Jeep. Even Grandpa’s cabin had looked charming from the outside, wearing its mantle of snow, and it usually looked like it was halfway to falling down. Also, the potholed driveway from the road was flanked by old pieces of junk and rusted-out machinery. It was all part of Grandpa’s asshole filter—if you made it past all that, the inside of the cabin was comfortable and modern and toasty warm. “We missed the bad weather, and Squirrel had a gas station hot dog that made him fart all the way here.”
“That part wasn’t great,” Dalton said with a laugh, holding up my hand to inspect where he’d taped my grazed knuckles after Iscraped the shit out of them when me and Grandpa came off the sled.
“It was hilarious! Squirrel kept trying to run away from the stink, and he kept giving us these dirty looks like he thought it was coming from us!”
“He wasn’t the only one trying to get away,” Dalton said. “And I’m pretty sure gas station hot dogs aren’t on Scout’s list of Squirrel-approved foods anyway.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Scout will never know if you don’t tell him. And anyway, he was nice to me before we left, so I can hold that over him for months.”
“The Talbot-Smith boy?” Grandpa asked, and I nodded and shoved some chips in my face. “I was at Lassiter with one of the Talbot-Smith boys back in the day. Probably be his granddaddy or maybe a great-uncle. They still got sticks up their asses?”
“I think they’re born with them,” I said. “Though Bax Three is pretty chill. Scout’s great, though. You just gotta let him think you think he’s an asshole, and everything’s cool.”
Grandpa snorted. “That sounds like a Talbot-Smith alright.” He shrugged. “Though his granddaddy was a genuine asshole. I went up against him in court more than a few times, and it was like trying to masturbate with a cheese grater.” He pulled a face. “Highly unpleasant.”
“That’s a vivid image,” Billy said wryly. “Thank you for sharing it with us, Martin.”
Grandpa toasted him silently with his empty shot glass.
“Scout’s not like that,” I said. “He just pretends he is. I swear he almost cried when we threw him Fratmas.”
“Fratmas?” Billy asked.
“Like Christmas, but at Alpha Tau.”
Billy laughed. “I figured.”
Dalton helped himself to a chip. “Marty found out that Scout couldn’t have Christmas with his family, so he organized a Christmas celebration for him at Lassiter.”
“Fratmas,” I corrected. “It wasepic. I have pictures!”
I pulled out my phone and passed it around. Someone had taken a picture of Scout when he’d first walked through the door and he was frozen like a deer in the headlights, and it was hilarious. I was thinking of getting it put on a sweater for next Christmas. I’d probably get one for Scout and one for me. He’d never wear his, but I’d make up for it by wearing mine everywhere. Maybe I’d get Trey one too.
There were other pictures too—Squirrel eating a pig’s ear, Squirrel chewing on the wrapping paper, Squirrel in his new sweater and reindeer antlers. It turned out most of the pictures were of Squirrel, but there were a couple of the brothers as well. Then Billy swiped too far and handed the phone back in a hurry. He’d landed on the dick pic I’d sent Dalton last week.
Oops.
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Well, I guess the whole family is blessed,” Billy said a little faintly and poured himself another drink.
“It’s all about the lighting,” I said before Dalton gave me a look that clearly saidstop talking.
“Son,” Billy said, “I was born at night, but not last night.”
Grandpa slapped his knee and laughed. “Stop trying to steal my man with your saucy photographs, Marty!”
Billy and Dalton exchanged a look that saidJesus, these two, but these were the sort of shenanigans you got when you hitched your wagon to an O’Brien man. Except it probably skipped a generation or something, because my dad was super boring.
“And here I thought the only thing I inherited was the ADHD,” I said.
“Maybe one is compensation for the other,” Grandpa said, and Billy threw a cushion at him.
If Dalton had thought we’d be having a quiet Christmas with some venerable elders, he was wrong. Then again, he’d stayed here before, so he must have had some idea of what to expect and where I got it from. And I meant my personality, not my dick. I hadn’t known about the dick thing before now either, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about knowing it.
Eh.
