22. OMG Thank You, Brody
OMG THANK YOU, brODY
BEFORE
Brody’s interning with his father and mother over the summer, meaning he’s living in Beverly Hills, often partying with his old high school buddies.
Lucas’s Eluva internship is in Chicago, and it pays well enough for him to quit his job as an electrician (potentially forever, meaning he can concentrate on academics next term).
I’m the only one who stays in the area, continuing research I started in the spring.
There’s no reason for us to practice over the summer, and coordinating what’s supposed to be synchronous programming via Zoom . . . sucks. But Brody and I are eager to prove ourselves, meaning this time, we’re not just aiming to get to nationals, but to win worlds.
“If you’re thirtieth on your own,” Brody is practically yelling, because he’s placed his laptop far away from wherever he’s lounging, “we’re going to have to win the whole fucking thing to not be an embarrassment.”
“Hard agree.”
My father was livid at Lucas’s performance. He’d told people his daughter would be going to worlds, had bragged about his Caltech programming progeny, and the fact that the Caltech team of one did that well?
My father’s silence was . . . deafening. Worse, he’d stopped sending money.
Completely.
No allowance in May.
Nothing again for June.
And I didn’t have enough saved. Back when I believed—naively, optimistically—that we’d have a decent enough chance at worlds to at least keep our normal allowance, I’d spent a good chunk of my bronze nationals money on a laptop for Aurora.
Even though I’m making more money than ever before, even though I parlayed the nationals bronze into additional tutoring gigs, that income is sporadic, and the Pizza Palace is .
. . the Pizza Palace. Meaning it’s great as a supplement, but not enough for actual rent.
I’m certain my father will get over it. Eventually.
I have potentially interesting almost-results from ongoing research with Patel.
But since research is slow, practicing with Brody and Lucas at least feels immediate.
“Need to piss. brB.”
From his small apartment in Chicago, Lucas makes a face. “Did Brody really just say the letters B-R-B instead of be right back? It’s the same number of syllables.”
“It’s Brody. He needs attention the way plants need sunlight.”
Lucas huffs out a breath. “I’ve been meaning to ask whether Levi’s keeping up on his homework.”
Both twins are enrolled in summer school.
Now that Lucas understands how community college kids are sometimes treated, he’s determined his brothers will go straight to a four-year university, which has translated to summer math advancement and taking a serious look into which sports might lead to scholarship opportunities.
“Let me take a wild guess, your mother thinks they’re too young for all this college anxiety?”
“It’s good to start early,” Lucas rebuts.
“Delilah also thinks you’re a worrier.”
“We’re cut from the same anxious cloth.”
I bite my lip, because that is something we have in common.
“Levi is keeping up just fine. Leno too.”
“I never worry about Leno. Just like I never worry about Aurora.”
Lucas turns from me, his attention back on the problem, and we work for a moment in silence before he asks, “Are you okay, living at home?” It’s not that we don’t talk regularly, it’s that often we’re both in between things.
When Lucas FaceTimes me when I’m at my home, Aurora, Wren, and Harper sometimes take over the call.
I’m even less comfortable having a personal conversation from the Murray house, and who really wants to talk deeply from the back row of the LA Metro?
“It’s cheaper than staying in the dorms.” Though the constant trips between my mother’s place (to theoretically rest, but in reality to cook, clean and help with the girls) and Lucas’s mother’s apartment (to check on the twins and chat with Delilah), my research, and my community college classes (which are cheaper, particularly given I’ve already been granted permission to transfer the units to Caltech) makes me feel like an overworked single parent of two distinct households.
I feel . . . exhausted.
“It’s—”
“She’s burning out,” Brody tells us, clearly from across the room, the way his voice echoes. His voice gets louder as we hear the tail end of a flush in the background. “The bags under her eyes are stressing me TF out.”
“TF?”
“Why the hell don’t you know TF means the fuck? Or are you complaining about the fact that I said T-F instead of the fuck? Whatever. I was gonna save the surprise, but you guys are bumming me out.”
Lucas rubs his eyes, also clearly exhausted. He’s worked as much as he can, striving for that return offer, the one that guarantees a lucrative offer will be waiting for him at the end of senior year. “How are we bumming you out?”
“You’re dour because you aren’t getting enough attention from your girlfriend, and Lorelai looks half dead from exhaustion.
” Brody picks up his laptop in a way that makes me feel motion sick.
“My birthday’s June twenty-ninth, which, lucky for you guys, is shockingly close to July Fourth.
” He looks at us expectantly, and when neither Lucas nor I catch on, he sighs dramatically.
“I know you’d hate to miss my birthday, so I’m getting you both tickets for my birthday bash.
Meaning, if you can each stand to take a few days off, because July Fourth is on a Wednesday . . .”
“We could practice in person,” I say.
Brody rolls his eyes. “I was thinking romantic reunion for you guys and party for me, but sure. Let’s also practice programming like the nerds we are.” He waits a beat. “Don’t you at least want to know where I’m flying you?”
“Where will your birthday party be?” Lucas asks dutifully.
“Yellowstone Club.”
I blink. My father once tasked me with looking into membership costs, and I made him a spreadsheet comparing house and lot sizes. It’s the type of place where the bathrooms outnumber the bedrooms, because you’re expected to entertain.
Lucas, of course, looks perplexed. “Yellowstone National Park?”
“Yellowstone Club is not a national park. It’s more that it’s the Ritz to rich people.”
My boyfriend looks unimpressed. “Isn’t the Ritz already the Ritz to rich people?”
“Of course not. Look, Tiffany’s is to middle class as the Ritz is to upper class. Everyone’s heard of the Ritz, which means it’s no longer exclusive. The average upper-class person has never heard of Yellowstone Club, much less can afford it.”
“The initiation fee was half a million when I looked into it.”
Lucas pales as my words sink in.
Brody says, “It’s where wealthy people go to—”
“To isolate themselves from the teeming masses?” Lucas’s voice reflects a small edge of bitterness.
“To show other wealthy people that they’re really, really wealthy.”
“And are you that wealthy?”
I’m surprised Lucas is comfortable enough to ask. Normally, the man avoids all mentions of status, net worth, things that clearly make him feel lesser than.
Brody shrugs. “We’re lower-quartile relative to this crowd. We own a townhouse, as opposed to a custom ranch. But it’s a great place to recruit.”
“Another job fair?”
“Don’t judge. Finding miserable rich people is their job. And at a place like Yellowstone Club where everyone talks a little more freely? It’s a great place to sign miserable billionaires and multimillionaires. It pays tuition. Airplane tickets for my besties.”
Brody’s tone is light, his wording deliberately ridiculous, but it’s clear he’s losing patience.
“And you’re allowed to invite us?” Trust Lucas to worry about the rules.
“Eight days each, the club max. So end of June through the July Fourth holiday. It’ll be you guys, two others from Lloyd. The rest—” Brody shifts uncomfortably.
“The rest are already members?”
“I went to Beverly Hills High.” Brody lifts his shoulders in a mock-helpless gesture.
“Look, you guys are not going to shame me for being rich. Lucas shares his big brain with me. Lorelai manages all the calendars and shared practice documents that make these sessions possible. Well, I’m also sharing what I have, which is my big wallet.
Figure out your days off and say, ‘OMG thank you, Brody.’”
“OMG—” I start.
“Thank you, Brody,” Lucas finishes solemnly.
“Can’t believe that worked. Now say, ‘You’re so much cooler than we are.’”
“Low bar,” I say.
“Hey, I notice shit, okay?”
“That really could be taken two different ways,” Lucas starts.
But I tease, “Not just a big wallet?”
“It’s almost like I’m too good to be true.” Brody grins then, because he really is the most well adjusted out of all of us. “It would have sounded better if one of you guys had said it.”