Chapter Nine #2
“Yeah…I’ll wait and see how it goes.”
“That does seem to be your preferred approach to life.”
He shrugs. “Sometimes it’s the best choice, all things considered.”
“So, like, are your parents going to move really far away?”
“Something like that.” He doesn’t clarify, and I decide not to press.
“Well, I guess you could be invited to Thanksgiving at my place, if you don’t have other plans.”
“Really?” Declan stares right at me with an intrigued smile that makes my heart burst.
“Watch the road!” I say, waving away his gaze when I can no longer bear it. “It’s like your brother said earlier: I’ll need someone to split the drive back home for breaks,” I tease. “It’s only fair that that deal come with some turkey.”
.....
At lunchtime we stop at this quirky little 1950s diner that Amelia found while searching for dining options at our upcoming exits.
It’s out of place among the typical gas stations and golden arches that seem to be at every single highway intersection.
Even among all this empty space, the parking lot is a tight squeeze, as though not paved for the size of modern vehicles.
Declan has to pull the SUV through into a narrow spot near the dumpsters.
Inside, we take a seat at an empty booth with blue-and-red swirl posts while a few truckers eat at the counter next to dishes of pie slices.
There’s a QR code on a folded piece of cardstock in the center of the table, but a middle-aged waitress walks over and gestures for us to ignore that, plopping down wide plastic-covered menus and filling four cups of water.
“Give me a shout when you know what you want,” she says, returning behind the counter.
Grady barely consults the menu before he’s found exactly what he wants. “Club sandwich,” he says, nodding toward Declan.
Declan shrugs. “I think I’ll do a burger.”
Amelia pulls out her phone to use the magnifying app, scanning it over the menu’s text. I take my time, as well, even though I’ve already zoned in on the French toast. “You like grilled cheese,” I suggest.
Her interest is piqued. “They have that?” She scans over the bottom left-hand corner and finds it. “I’ll get that.”
“Excuse me!” Grady waves his arms, not shouting, per se, but his voice easily carries. “We’re ready whenever you are.”
The waitress returns and takes our order. Meanwhile, another family gets up from their table, getting ready to leave, and the girl about our age pauses in front of us on her way back from the bathroom, looking right at Amelia.
“Hey,” the girl says, excited to see my sister. “What are you doing here?”
Amelia falters, struggling to recognize her.
“I’m Iris,” I say, jumping in. “How do you know my sister?”
“Eden,” she introduces herself with even more enthusiasm.
“We sat next to each other in algebra last year. Amazing to see you!” she says to Amelia.
“You look so good. Did you dye your hair?” Before my sister can answer, Eden continues.
“I gotta catch up with the others, but wow, amazing to see you.”
“Yes, so great!” Amelia says, but there’s something off about her response. She slides a hand out on the table as though telling us to hold our reaction until Eden and her family have left. “Um…”
“What?” I ask.
She glances toward the door to make sure the girl is gone, then bursts out laughing. “I did not know that person at all.”
“Wait, really?” I cackle. “I just assumed you couldn’t recognize them here.”
“Nope,” she continues. “I don’t know anyone named Eden. Didn’t take algebra last year. Definitely didn’t dye my hair.”
“I thought there was something off,” I say.
“I know. I was trying to figure out the voice, like maybe it was someone from high school but they meant to say a few years ago instead of last year, but nope. No idea who that person was. And I wasn’t going to correct her.”
Declan and Grady seem confused, but they chuckle along and don’t ask for clarification about the situation, which Amelia doesn’t offer, so it’s not my place to do so.
My sister so often has to play along with a conversation, unable to recognize someone she actually knows, that it’s kind of funny to have done the same with a case of mistaken identity.
I didn’t know anything was off until Amelia revealed that she’d put the pieces together yet was still going along with the conversation as if nothing was amiss.
It makes me curious how Amelia fares at college, with something as regular an occurrence as walking across the quad.
When someone passes by and says hello, how often does she actually know who’s speaking to her?
Maybe she can recognize them by a backpack or bright pair of shoes they wear on a regular basis, but otherwise I’d have to guess that it could often feel like wading through a sea of vaguely familiar strangers.
How do you explain that something as off-putting as that can also make for an amusing situation like this one at the diner? I doubt Declan and Grady would fully understand why we found this funny.
Anyway, our food arrives at the table, which changes the subject easily enough.
“Did you text Dad back?” Amelia asks as she peels apart her grilled cheese slices.
“No, not yet.” I reply in the family chat, letting our parents know where we’ve stopped.
I hold up my phone to take a picture of our meals to send to them, but Declan slides a peace sign into view.
I smile and shake my head, quickly taking a full candid photo of him and his brother across from us in this booth before taking a selfie of all four of us and then another food picture—without a boy’s hands—to send to my parents.
Did Amelia tell them that we’re caravaning? Because I haven’t.
“How do we look?” Grady asks when I’m still looking at a picture on my phone, presumably thinking it’s the group selfie, but my eyes are stuck on the first image of Declan.
“Oh, it was fine,” I say. “Just responding to a text.”
Is this picture…cute?
Declan has such a casual, goofy look on his face. It’s better than any of those pictures Peyton found from the game shop. I might as well send this to the group chat, right?
Peyton and Elizabeth immediately reply to my text.
Peyton: Look at you all romantic in a diner!!!
Elizabeth: That’s him?? He’s even cuter than I thought. Maybe I should play board games
Peyton: Damn, that’s not the Declan I remember from a week ago.
I’m glued to my phone, heart racing as I respond, desperate for them to continue to reply right away so I can be absolutely positive I didn’t somehow send the text to the wrong person, even though I’m staring at this chat right now.
Iris: I might be very mistaken, but I think he maybe likes me?
Peyton: Obviously
Iris: Not obviously!!
Declan nudges my foot underneath the table, and I nearly drop my phone on the floor. “Are you going to eat?” he asks.
I’d forgotten about my French toast. It still looks delicious and warm, waiting for me to pour syrup all over it. “Yeah, yeah. One second, just texting my parents.”
Amelia raises her eyebrows, since her phone and the family chat hasn’t been receiving any of the texts I’ve been sending.
Then, to my surprise, Amelia suggests, “I feel like we should play a game or something.”
“Like the picnic game?” I ask.
“I don’t know that one,” she says. The guys shake their heads.
I smile, shoving my phone away and taking a quick bite of my meal while thinking for a second to set the category for our game.
“Oh, it’s easy. I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring corn.
” The others look at me blankly. “Okay, Lee, now you say that you’re going on a picnic and what you’ll bring.
And I’ll tell you if you can go; otherwise you have to keep guessing. ”
She takes another bite of her melty grilled cheese. “All right, well, I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring pizza.”
I shake my head. “Nope, sorry, you can’t come.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“It has to fit a certain requirement,” I explain, chopping another piece of my French toast to have a bite ready to eat. “So keep guessing!”
“What about an empanada?” Grady asks.
Declan points toward his brother. “You gotta say the whole phrase.” He turns toward me. “Right?”
“Yeah, that’s how I’ve always played it.”
“Okay,” Grady says, and proceeds to repeat his request in full.
I shake my head again, glancing out the diner window at another car arriving in the parking lot. “Sorry, you can’t.”
Declan thinks for a second, grabbing a napkin to dry his fingers from the burger grease before taking a drink of his soda. “I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring rice.”
I give a wide grin. “Yes, you can come!”
Declan narrows his eyes in surprise. “Really? But why?”
With a playful shrug, I turn back to my sister, who says, “I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring chips.”
“Nope!” I give a hint: “You can bring a chip but not chips.”
Grady tries again. “I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring a potato.”
“Sorry!”
I worry for a second that Grady might be the type to get frustrated with this game, and that would really ruin the fun vibes we’ve got going here, but he gives a good-natured grin and jokes, “You know, I might start to take this personally.”
“Oh,” Declan says, his face lighting up. “I get it now.”
“You think?” I say, shaking my head as I eat another bite.
“I’m going on a picnic…” Declan looks me right in the eye, pausing for effect, before saying, “and I’ll bring Iris.”
My heart skips a beat. “Cute.” I shake my head and blush. “But, yes, you can.”
“Really?” Amelia asks. “I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring Iris?”
“Eek, sorry, you can’t copy someone else’s answer,” I tease.
Amelia groans, slumping back in the booth. “Ugh, can I bring Grady, then, I guess?”
“No,” I say, and Amelia gives a loud exhale of transparent relief.
Grady places a hand over his chest. “But I love picnics.”
“Okay, so far, we can bring corn, rice, and”—I shake my head at having to refer to myself in the third person—“Iris.”
Amelia leans forward. “I get it! I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring the moon.”
“Aww, that’s pretty,” I say. “Yes, you can bring the moon.”
Grady doubles over laughing. “Can I bring the sun?”
“Nah, dude.” Declan takes the opportunity to decline his brother this time for me. “You can’t bring the sun.”
Grady scratches his chin. “The stars?”
Declan takes another bite of his burger, placing his hand over his mouth to speak while chewing. “Don’t reach for so many.”
“A star?” Grady asks, triumphantly holding up the rest of his sandwich, lettuce slipping out onto the plate.
We all cheer.
Grady scrunches up his face as he licks his fingers clean. “Oh, four-letter words?”
Declan nods and prompts him, “So, what are you going to bring?”
Grady smiles at Amelia with a mischievous glint. “I’m going on a picnic, and I’ll bring a crow.”
My sister’s face scrunches up, fearful and a touch repulsed, throwing Grady a look that suggests this was something they discussed in the car earlier today. “Birds do not need to crash our picnic.”
“Not birds, plural,” Grady says with a joking smirk, for some reason knowing exactly the effect this will have on Amelia. “Just one crow.”