Page 52 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“The cat? No.”
“Not the cat, the car.” I roll my eyes when I realize he was messing with me.
“Yes.” He chuckles. “The car is purple.”
His sister sounds fun, unlike her irritating brother.
“This next question is for all you sweet tooths,” Carlos says, singling out a child as he points his microphone in her direction after he asks, “Do you like chocolate?”
She nods emphatically.
“I don’t have any, sorry.”
The girl pouts, and I feel sorry for her, until Carlos pulls a Hershey’s bar out of his pocket and tosses it to her. “Just kidding.” He winks, then adds, “The next question is… what is the rarest M&M color in a standard packet?”
Pulling an I’m-not-sure face, I look to Riley, and he does the same.
“Well, there’s red ones, orange, yellow, green, blue, and brown,” I declare, picturing them in my head.
“Always bet on red,” he tells me.
“Isn’t the saying ‘always bet on black’?”
“Is there a black M&M?”
“No.”
“So bet on red.”
“But brown is the closest color to black.”
“It’s not ‘always bet on brown,’” he deadpans.
“Okay, question number six,” Carlos says, and I panic and jot downRed, even though I think it’s brown. “Name the song and artist who sang this.”
The drumbeat of “Invisible Touch” blasts through the speaker, so I quickly scribble the title followed byPhil Collins.
Riley leans forward and shakes his head. “You’re wrong.”
“I am not. I know this song.”
“The song is correct, but the artist isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.” He goes to take the pencil, but I snatch it back. “Riles, trust me, you’re wrong.”
“I am not. Listen. That’s Phil Collins singing.”
He holds out his hand. “Are you going to give me the pencil?”
I stubbornly press it to my chest. “No.”
“Suit yourself.”
We answer more questions, Riley taking the lead on the sports-themed ones, while I handle anything to do with literature and chick flicks. We complement each other well, except when we disagree on stupid questions like“How many hearts does an octopus have?”
He said eight,and I said one.
