Save the Date(62)

“It’s really not,” Rodney said as he rolled up his sleeve to look at his watch.

“Why are you back?” I asked Linnie, crossing barefoot to the fridge. “I thought you were going out with the girls.”

“I did,” she said. “But then Jenny K. met someone, and we decided to clear out and give her some space. And then when we got back here, Priya realized she was exhausted. . . .”

“Priya was on the right track,” Rodney said around a yawn. “We should probably turn in.”

“Yeah,” Linnie said, pushing herself off the counter.

“Wait,” I said quickly, shutting the fridge door without taking anything and turning around to face everyone. “We can’t go to bed yet!”

“It is kind of late, Chuck,” Danny said.

“But—we all just got here.” I knew this wasn’t technically true, but it felt like it. I was finally with my siblings, in the kitchen, without alarms going off or tent crises or guests coming and going. And yes, technically there was both an unexpected girlfriend and a beagle. But just going to bed felt like I would be letting this chance slip by. How many more times would we even be in this kitchen together? I had a feeling I could probably count them on one hand, and the thought made me feel panicky. “We need to do something fun, something to mark Linnie and Rodney’s last single night.”

“Like what?” Linnie asked, leaning back against the counter. My thoughts were racing as I tried to think of something that would fit the criteria I had given. Playing a board game or watching a movie just wasn’t going to cut it. It needed to be something more than that, something epic.

“Something we can all do together,” I said, stalling for time in the hopes that something would come to mind.

“And Brooke, too,” J.J. added.

“It’s fine,” Brooke said, glancing at Danny. “I don’t have to . . . I mean, whatever it is, you guys can just . . .”

“Aw, come on,” Danny said, taking her hand across the table and giving it a squeeze. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I’m not,” Brooke said sharply, and we all simultaneously felt the need to look at either the ceiling or the floor.

“I’ve got it,” I said. We hadn’t done it in forever, but it had once been a Grant family tradition, something we did every Fourth of July, and even Christmas, if it wasn’t snowing, and sometimes even if it was. “Anyone fancy a game of CTF?”

“What is that?” Brooke asked.

“Really?” J.J. tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t played CTF in years.”

“I know!” I was bouncing on the balls of my feet now. “That’s what makes it perfect. We can bring back an old tradition before we have to say good-bye to the house.”

“Only if J.J. finally admits I am the master,” Danny said, starting to smile.

“Um, I believe I beat you the last time we played.”

“Wasn’t that, like, five years ago?” Rodney asked.

“So?” J.J. and Danny said simultaneously.

“Linnie?” I asked. She was the bride, after all—and if she wanted to go to bed, I had a feeling the game wouldn’t be happening.

“I think a midnight game of CTF the night before my wedding actually sounds like a great idea.” She grinned at me. “Let’s do it.”

*

Wait,” Brooke said, hurrying behind Danny as we all trooped out to the backyard, a furrow between her eyebrows. “What are we doing?”

“Capture the flag,” J.J. said with a grin. “Grant-style.” He looked at her and shook his head. “Don’t you want to change? Charlie, lend her my gnome sweatshirt.”

“Why?” Brooke asked, her voice going higher. “What is this?”

“You’ve never played capture the flag?” Danny asked, his eyebrows flying up. “Didn’t you ever go to camp?”

“No,” Brooke said, looking around at all of us. “I . . . didn’t.”

“You’re definitely going to want to change,” J.J. said as we arrived in the center of the backyard—in the spot the tent would be tomorrow. “I have extra clothes upstairs if you need them.”

“Thanks,” Brooke said, “but—”

“Hey!” J.J. yelled toward the house. “What’s the holdup?”

“Shh,” Danny and I said immediately. There were still nine people and a dog inside the house—and Uncle Stu in my mother’s studio—all of whom were presumably asleep. When we’d agreed in the kitchen to play, Rodney had put on the condition that it happen quietly enough not to wake up anyone inside. The center of the backyard was far enough away from the bedrooms so that we should be okay, but there was no need to push our luck.

Capture the flag had been a Grant tradition ever since Danny spent a summer at sleepaway camp when he was eight. He’d brought the game home to us, and though we’d had others throughout the years—we’d gotten very into Manhunt for a while, despite the fact that we never seemed to have enough flashlights—CTF was the game we’d always come back to when we could play outside. Over the years, we’d devised a set of rules that had made the game uniquely ours. But a few years ago, we’d just stopped playing it, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until I ran out into the backyard in the moonlight, feeling the cold night air on my face and my hair streaming behind me as I ran to catch up with my favorite people.