Save the Date(65)

“No,” Linnie said, stopping and turning to her, and I took this moment of distraction to run full out toward the trampoline.

Danny saw me coming and smiled, stretching his hand out as far as it would go while still keeping a foot touching the metal base (as had been decreed years ago by the rules). I slapped his hand and he grinned at me. “Thanks, Chuck.”

“I’ve got your back,” I called to him, but he was already running in the other direction, toward our base, trying to intercept J.J., who was barreling toward the flag. Which meant—I whirled around, ready to try to grab the Grant flag, only to see Linnie standing directly in front of me.

“You’re out,” she said, tapping me on the shoulder and pointing. “Trampoline. I call jailer,” she added to Brooke, who had now wandered a little farther from their base but still wasn’t making any move to try to grab our flag—which was woefully unguarded at the moment, as Danny chased J.J. and Rodney tried to box him in. “Doesn’t she realize she could grab it?” Linnie asked, shaking her head.

“Jailbreak!” I looked over, startled, to see Rodney running full out toward me, tagging me on the shoulder, then pivoting away.

“Thanks!” I yelled, sprinting away from the jail on Rodney’s heels. I decided to head back to our base for a bit, regroup, maybe play defense for a while. Just as I’d had this thought, though, J.J. started running in our direction, brandishing the Anderson General Life Insurance flag.

“No!” Rodney yelled, running after him, only to have J.J. pivot and change directions—running toward Brooke. Glancing behind her, she started running—directly into one of the tent posts. She tripped over it, her feet tangling, and she windmilled her arms for a second, trying to stay upright, before falling to the ground, hitting it hard. “God!” she yelled, trying to push herself up to standing, but then losing her footing and falling again.

J.J., not noticing any of this, sprinted to his base and threw the Anderson General Life Insurance flag to the ground, then raised his arms in victory. “Take that!” he yelled, spinning around in triumph, then frowning when he saw everyone else had stopped running. “What’s going on?”

“You okay, babe?” Danny asked, jogging over to her. He reached out a hand, but Brooke pushed herself up to standing. She looked down and seemed to see what had happened at the same time the rest of us did—there was a huge dirt and grass stain all down the side of her cream-colored dress.

“No, I’m not okay!” she snapped, her voice breaking. I couldn’t tell, going by just the outdoor lights and moonlight—but I was pretty sure there were tears in her eyes. “I didn’t even want to play this stupid game. Why did you make me?”

“I didn’t make you,” Danny said, sounding taken aback. “I thought it would be fun.”

“Fun for you!” Brooke yelled, her voice going high and a little hysterical. “Did you think about if it would be fun for me? Of course you didn’t. You haven’t thought about how I would feel all day, so why should you start now?”

“That’s not true,” Danny said, taking a step closer to her, keeping his voice low.

“Why am I even here?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest—which, I couldn’t help but notice, just seemed to add more dirt to the dress. “Why did you even ask me to come if you don’t want me to be here?”

“Babe,” Danny said, glancing from Brooke to the rest of us. “Let’s not do this now.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she said, her voice breaking. She stared at Danny for a moment longer, like she was waiting for him to say something, but then turned on her heel and stalked across the lawn and into the house. A second later, I heard the door slam—but thankfully, the alarm stayed off.

“Um,” Linnie said, looking from Danny and back to the house again. “Should we . . . ?” She left the sentence dangling, a question at the end of it.

Danny looked in the direction Brooke had gone, his jaw set. And after a moment, he shook his head. “Let’s keep playing.”

“Really?” Rodney asked. I saw him exchange a glance with Linnie. “Because it’s no problem. We can stop. . . .”

“Nah,” Danny said, and it seemed like he was trying, with a great deal of effort, to sound cheerful again. He walked over to where J.J. had dropped the Anderson’s flag. “But that last one doesn’t count at all, J.J. I think we should start over.”

“Hey!” J.J. yelped, running after him.

I looked back to the house. It wasn’t that I wanted to stop playing the game—and Brooke had clearly seemed disgusted with all of us—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe someone should have followed her.

“Chuck!” Danny called, jogging back to our base, the Anderson’s flag over his shoulder. “You playing?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. Then I turned away from the house and ran to catch up with my brother.

*

An hour later, we all trooped inside the kitchen, most of us slightly worse for wear. We’d ended up playing best two out of three, which had led to the game getting dirtier and dirtier as it went on—both figuratively and literally. Linnie had held her arms out to Rodney for a hug, only to tag him when he got close; Danny had faked a twisted ankle to tag out J.J.; and Rodney had refused to grant a single jailhouse pardon, which we’d all agreed was a record. Once we’d restarted, we’d won the first round (Linnie and J.J. complaining that we had an unfair advantage, since they were down a player.) They won the second, but we managed to pull out a win for the third round, with Rodney running faster than I’d ever seen him to bring the Grant flag back to our base while Linnie, stuck in our jail, let out a very impressive stream of curses as she watched. After he’d made it back to base safely, Danny had whirled me around in the air as Rodney had thrown down the Grant flag in victory. “You don’t mess with Anderson General Life Insurance!” he’d yelled, doing a victory dance. “You don’t mess with us!”