The Names They Gave Us(53)

After practice finishes up, the jukebox takes over. Most of the band members hang around, sitting at tables with their families.

Our burgers show up, timed perfectly, as we climb back into the booth—Henry with us this time. He sits next to me, and I stare down at the toasted top of my burger bun.

“Is this mine?” He points to one of the red plastic baskets.

Keely nods. “No pickle, extra mustard.”

Based on previous exchanges, I’m shocked when Keely offers me a whole onion ring. A smaller one—but still.

“Here,” she says, with the magnanimous tone of a queen knighting someone. “Dip it.”

But after a bite, I understand the gravity of the situation. They’re crispy and warm and golden. Can something taste golden? “Whoa.”

“Exactly.” She jams one into the dish of sauce.

“Keels?” Henry says.

“What?”

He smiles sweetly. “You’re so pretty.”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” she scoffs. Then she softens, smiling as she turns to him. “But go on.”

“Well, you have a naturally great smile and really nice teeth, even when you don’t show them. And your hair is looking great since you’ve been growing it out.”

“True.” She fluffs her hair. When Mohan snorts, she whirls at him. “It’s work! You don’t know.”

“And you always make lipstick look cool. That’s hard to pull off.”

Keely nods, looking around the table at us as if we should take note. “Henry Jones? You may have an onion ring.”

“For being a kiss-ass?” Mohan shrieks. He reaches across to snatch one, but Keely smacks his hand.

“I know Jones said it for the food, but he was being truthful about my beauty,” she says, waving her hand in the most dismissively regal way. “And you could have ordered your own.”

“I had to order yours. I’m not made of money.” To Anna he grumbles, “She’s like Gollum with those rings.”

Keely picks up an onion ring delicately.

“My. Precious,” she says flatly, then shoves the whole thing in her mouth.

“Well, now you’re just baiting him,” Anna says.

Mohan has this particular expression when he is up to something, a little flame-spark in his dark irises. “Fine. You want flattery? Keely Marie, you are the wind beneath my wings.”

“Uh oh.” Jones snickers beside me. Anna covers her smile with a balled fist, eyes wide.

Keely’s expression darkens as she stares down Mohan. “Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” I whisper to Jones. Mohan has his eyes closed, summoning breath or strength—I don’t know which.

“Sometimes, when Mohan doesn’t get his way . . . ,” Jones replies. He doesn’t finish explaining because he doesn’t have to. Mohan is quietly singing the first line of “Wind Beneath My Wings” and reaching out to Keely. The other hand is clasped against his chest, as if really meaning the lyrics.

“Stop it,” Keely hisses.

He does not stop it. He sings the next lines a little louder, and Anna sways happily. Keely looks capable of murder.

The faceoff becomes clear to me: Mohan will continue serenading Keely with this cheesy ballad, in increasing volume, until she relinquishes an onion ring. She starts chewing frantically, like maybe he’ll stop if the food is all gone.

But Mohan has almost reached the chorus. People have definitely started to look, and Keely ducks down. He takes a deep breath and belts the chorus with total earnestness. The family sitting nearest to us looks pissed. If Mohan notices, he doesn’t let on.

“Fine, you idiot!” Keely cries. “Take an onion ring. Just stop.”

Mohan snaps his mouth shut. He smiles serenely, reaching pinched fingers across to claim his prize, and I join Anna in clapping. Jones laughs, stretching his arm so that it rests on the booth behind us. He’s not putting his arm around me, exactly, but I feel tucked into him. Into all of it.

Happy: This. Them.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The path I take toward Holyoke is starting to get worn in, but it’s the first Sunday that I don’t feel propelled away from my new camp.

I run into my dad on his way out of the chapel, prepping for the service. “Hey, Bird!”

“Hey.” I squeeze my arms around his waist. When I step back, my eye goes right to his hair. He normally keeps it meticulously short, but it’s a little shaggy around the ears. “Is Mom in there already?”

“She’s going to rest at the house today. I think she has a surprise waiting for you, actually.”

“Oh. Should I go now?”

“Yeah, go on. I think you can miss one of my sermons without fearing for your mortal soul.” He winks, and something about it wrecks me. Now that I’ve backed away from my normal life, I can see the whole landscape. Now that I know what some of my campers have going on at home . . . yes, I see very, very clearly. And I’m not sure how I got so lucky. My dad with his steadfastness and his humor.

I bound to the cabin, pausing to examine the car in our driveway. It’s new and uncluttered inside. Must be a rental. Who would have a rental car here? The front door clatters behind me, punctuating the loud whirr of the blender.