12. Beck
twelve
Beck
Chairs go over backward at once. Nolan lunges across the table and comes up with nothing.
Tessa's already got a spoon in her hand, pleased with herself, which tells me she probably had it before the round even started.
Cassidy's got another. Trevor's got his too, calm about it, already several moves ahead of the rest of us.
I grab mine off the table without much drama, and Ivy's got hers a half second later, her hand closing around it just as Dani's fingers land on the last one.
That leaves Reid without one.
“How,” Reid says, staring at the empty space where a spoon used to be, “does that keep happening?”
“You're slow,” Tessa says.
“I am not slow.”
“You're something.”
Nolan looks around the table at everyone. “Is it always this violent?”
“You've never played with this crew,” Ivy says, gathering the cards back up.
I've played a fair amount of Spoons in my life, in bunkrooms with people just as exhausted and just as competitive as this table, but I've never seen a group commit to it quite like this.
Dani accuses Cassidy of grabbing early. Cassidy denies it, though her face is doing most of the confessing for her.
Reid demands a rematch on principle. Ivy deals again like none of this is unusual.
I'm having a good time watching all of it, or I would be, if half my attention weren't still stuck somewhere on a rock above Silver Bell.
Where I kissed Ivy today.
She's sitting three feet away, laughing at something Tessa said. Reid's sitting right next to her. I told Ivy I'd handle it. I haven't found the right moment yet.
The next round goes fast. Four of a kind gets built, a spoon disappears, and, again, Reid lunges too late.
“Out,” Tessa announces, delighted.
“This game is rigged.” Reid slumps back in his chair, annoyed, and watches the rest of us play through another round while he’s forced to spectate. He lasts about five minutes before he stands up.
“Trash needs to go out,” he announces, like this is a natural consequence of losing at cards. “Might as well be useful.”
I'm on my feet. “I'll help.”
Ivy looks up. She understands what's happening. She doesn't say anything, but there's a small, private kind of relief in the way she looks at me, like something that's been hanging over both of us is finally about to be settled.
Reid grabs the kitchen trash bag. I grab the recycling, mostly for something to hold, and follow him out the back door into the evening.
The night's cooling off fast. Behind us, the house is still loud, cards slapping, someone yelling about a rule violation. Out here it's just crickets and our boots on gravel.
“I really think that game's rigged,” Reid says, still stuck on it. “Tessa's got some kind of system.”
“She's just fast.”
“Nobody's that fast.”
We reach the bear-resistant container at the edge of the yard. Reid hauls the lid open, tosses the bag in, lets it slam shut. I place the recycling in the bin next to it. This is the moment, the only one I'm going to get without an audience.
There's no good way to lead into this, so I don't try to find one.
“I kissed Ivy today,” I say.
Reid looks at me. There's a pause that feels considerably longer than it probably is.
“Okay,” he says, and starts walking back toward the house.
I stand there a second before I catch up. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“That's it?”
Reid stops, looks at me, like he's trying to figure out what other reaction I was expecting. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“I don't know. Something.”
“Beck. I've watched you two the past few weeks. You think I didn't notice? I can tell when my sister’s interested in someone.”
“You've never told me to stay away from her, but she’s your little sister. I figured that came with rules.”
“She's not off-limits.” He says it simply, no edge to it at all. “She's an adult. She makes her own decisions. It's not my job to approve or disapprove of who she wants to spend time with. I'd never get away with it if I tried.”
“I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it.”
“I feel fine about it.” He glances over. “I like you. I like her. You two get along. I'm not going to pretend that's some kind of tragedy.”
We resume walking in silence. I think that might be the end of it, until Reid speaks again, quieter this time.
“You know summer ends, though.”
I don't say anything.
“You're leaving when the season's over,” he says. “That's what you do. That's what you've always done.”
“I know.”
“I'm not saying don't do this. I'm just saying I know you, and I know how this usually goes for you.”
“I know,” I say again, because it's true, and because I don't have anything better to offer him. I don't have a plan that solves the problem he's pointing at. I don't know where I'll be in October any more than I did yesterday.
Reid doesn't push it further. He just nods, like he's said what he needed to say, and lets it go. We walk the rest of the way back to the house without either of us bringing it up again.
Inside, Ivy looks up when the door opens. Her eyes go to me first, then Reid, then back to me, reading whatever she can off my face. I give her a small nod, nothing dramatic. She exhales, slow, like she's been holding it since we walked outside.
The Spoons game has run its course. Tessa's already suggesting something else, some clue-and-guess game that requires partners, cards with categories on them, a stack of index cards someone produces from a drawer.
People start sorting themselves into pairs without much discussion. I end up near Ivy.
“Nope,” Dani says, before we've even fully claimed each other as partners. “Still not allowed to be partners.”
“We haven't done anything yet,” Ivy says.
“You will. You'll win. It's what you do.”
Reid, from across the room, doesn't even look up from shuffling cards. “Good luck enforcing that. They're a couple now.”
The room goes still.
Ivy stares at him. I stare at him.
“Reid,” Ivy says, flat and unimpressed.
“What?” Reid's grinning. “You didn't think I was going to let you off that easy, did you? I need to have a little fun at your expense. Both of your expenses.”
“You could have let us tell people.”
“And ruin the fun?”
Tessa's expression is the smuggest thing I've seen all summer.
“Don't,” Ivy says to her.
“I didn't say anything.”
“Your face did.”
I have no idea what Tessa knew, or since when, but judging by that look, it's been a while.
Nolan looks stunned, pointing between the two of us like he's double-checking his own eyes.
Dani's moving on to logistics. “Wait, since when? How long has this been going on?”
“Since today,” I say.
“Today today?”
“Today.”
“I knew,” Cassidy says, far too quickly.
“You did not,” Trevor says.
“I suspected.”
“You suspect everything. You suspected Bigfoot lived behind the crew house.”
“That's still an open question.”
Ivy and I don't offer details. Thankfully, nobody presses too hard, though there's enough teasing and cross-talk it takes a solid few minutes for the room to remember it was supposed to be picking partners.
“So,” I say, finally, looking at Dani. “Are we still banned?”
“Absolutely.”
“Obviously,” Reid adds. “Nothing's changed. If anything, you're more dangerous now.”
“That doesn't make sense,” Ivy says.
“It makes perfect sense. Emotionally invested teamwork is the most dangerous kind.”
Nobody argues with that logic, mostly because everyone's too busy laughing, and the game resumes with Ivy and me banned as partners.
The evening rolls on, loud and easy, and if anyone's treating this like a big revelation, it doesn't show for long. Reid teases us twice more and then loses interest, more concerned with winning the game than with our relationship status.
Tessa corners me in the kitchen at some point, arms crossed, entirely too casual about it. “So.”
“So,” I respond.
“That's it? That's all I get?”
“That's all you get.”
“You're no fun.”
“I've been told.”
She narrows her eyes like she's deciding whether to push it, then decides against it, grabbing a soda and wandering back toward the table without further comment.
By the time the second game wraps up, everyone's back to arguing about rules and stealing snacks and generally behaving like this is a completely ordinary Saturday.
I look around the room. Reid, laughing at something Tessa said. Cassidy and Trevor, still arguing about Bigfoot. Dani, keeping detailed score. At some point I end up next to Ivy again, different game, different table arrangement, our chairs close enough our knees touch under the table.
I'm not going to pretend I know what any of this means yet, where it goes, what happens when the season ends. Reid's right. I don't have an answer for that.
But right now, in this house, with this crew, I like being part of it.
It feels like something that fits.