Scout does have the decency to look ashamed. “We were trying to see you and maybe Declan Stone.”
“Scout,” my mom says, her name sounding like a reprimand, but I don’t remember her caring all that much when I told her about it the first time. I believe she said something like kids will be kids.
Presley leans toward Scout, a piña colada in her hand. “You know, if you tell me Briggs’s middle name, I’ll forget about the beach thing and get you an autograph from Declan.”
“No way. Are you serious?” Scout asks, her eyes wide as she looks to me. “I’m gonna have to tell her.”
“That’s cheating,” I say to Presley. I’d made my mom and Scout promise they wouldn’t tell her, but now it seems Presley is bringing out the big guns. The woman is relentless. She’s already offered Scout a hundred dollars to tell her, but luckily money doesn’t work on Scout. But an autograph from Declan Stone?
I look over to Presley and catch her pointing V fingers at her eyes and nodding before turning them on Scout, like a secret pact between the two.
“Scout,” I say.
“Ugh, fine,” she says.
“Briggs Ishmael Dalton, how dare you,” Presley says to me, and my mom snorts out a laugh.
“It’s definitely not Ishmael,” Mom informs her. My mom isn’t so easy to bribe, and she loves my middle name. I think she’s enjoying this game I’ve been playing with Presley. I don’t think she could be bought, unless Presley were to offer an in-person meeting with Henry Cavill. That would break her, for sure. But so far that hasn’t been on the table. Still, I wouldn’t put it past Presley.
My sister, on the other hand, is a lot easier to sway.
Presley shoots me a dirty look before turning her attention to Scout. “I’ll get you one anyway,” she says.
“Really?” Scout jumps up and down in her seat. “You’re the best.”
“Okay, if you won’t tell me his middle name, then how about an embarrassing story?”
My mom rubs her hands together like she’s been waiting her entire life for this moment. “Where do I begin?”
“Mom,” I say, a mostly fake irritation in my voice. “There aren’t that many.”
She shakes her head and looks to Presley, and a trickle of unease moves down my back.
“He had a massive crush on Candace from Phineas and Ferb.”
I chuckle, nodding my head. That wasn’t so terrible. “I did,” I say.
“He learned how to rewind on the remote and would watch her scenes over and over.”
Presley smiles. “That’s kind of adorable. Ashley Tisdale, who voiced her, is—”
“Nope,” I say, cutting her off and holding out a hand. “Do not ruin her.”
“I wasn’t,” she protests.
“Oh yeah, he had a huge crush on Ashley Tisdale too,” my mom says.
“Apparently he still does,” Scout says, giggling and pointing at me.
“He made me send an email to her fan club,” my mom tells Presley.
“I was ten,” I say, but I can feel my cheeks getting warm. Maybe I should just tell her my middle name so we can stop this.
“I need something juicier,” Presley says to my mom.
“He slept with a blue stuffed dog until he was thirteen,” my mom says.
“This is not fun,” I say, swiping a hand down my face.
I was actually fourteen, but I’m not about to admit that, or admit that Blue Doggy—not a very creative name—is packed in a box in the closet of my old bedroom at my mom’s house.
“Oh,” Scout says, excitedly. “And didn’t he need a night-light like forever?”
My mom nods, smiling. “He did need a night-light.” She turns to look at me. “Have you ever gotten over that one, Briggsy?”
I cover my face with my hand. “Of course I have,” I say.
But to be honest, sometimes I still consider leaving the bathroom light on and cracking the door. Only because I want to be able to see the face of my assailant should I ever be in that situation.
“Oooh,” my mom says, dragging out the word, her head cocked to the side, her eyes looking mischievous. “And you used to sometimes play dolls with Scout when she was a toddler.”
“I wasn’t playing dolls,” I tell Presley. “I was sixteen, for crap’s sake.”
“But you used to pretend like they were talking to her and do all those little voices.”
“Should I leave?” I ask the table. “I’d like to leave, or for the two of you to leave.” I point to my mom and sister, who seem to enjoy this too much.
“That is the sweetest,” Presley says, her hands pressed to her chest.
