I look at my brother, but he’s already moving toward the bowling lane, grinning. My shoe size isn’t the kind of thing I ever expected him to know. Maybe...maybe everything will be okay. I just have to pull him aside and explain everything as soon as I have the chance. My brother is a lot of things, but malicious isn’t one of them.

Some of my anxiety eases, and I take a deep breath, counting down over and over until my pulse returns to normal.

Mia and Daniela head to get some snacks and I sit down and slip on my bowling shoes. When Samir goes for a bathroom break, I almost follow him so we can talk, but he disappears too quickly.

I groan and resign myself to doing it later. Hopefully our promise will keep him from doing anything stupid before then.

A few minutes later, Samir runs up to us holding a sparkly pink bowling ball. “I found the perfect ball! Let’s do this!”

I squint at him. He seems unbothered by our earlier conversation, more focused on the game than anything else. I wish I could let things roll off me that easily.

I turn my attention back to Ace, who’s fiddling with the touch screen in the front of the table. When Mia and Daniela return, I realize I shouldn’t have left Ace in charge, since he put me in as the first player.

With a sigh, I walk over to the lane, testing the weight of a ball in my hands. “For the record, I suck at this.”

Ace does nothing but chuckle in response.

“I’m serious,” I say, but now he’s grinning. His smile is like a punch to the heart, and my ribs are becoming steadily bruised.

“Give it a try,” he says. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

I roll my eyes but look back at the lane. There’s a smile on my own lips, slipping free without my permission. Still, I know it’ll be a miracle if I knock down even one pin. Giving me a ten-pound piece of plastic that I have to throw down a lane is like asking me to do rocket science.

I take a deep breath and swing my arm back and forth before letting go. My eyes track the ball’s trajectory nervously. As anyone could have predicted, it makes to hit one of the pins but skids to the side at the last second, falling straight into the gutter.

I sigh, shaking my head. “Why does this always happen to me?”

“It’s not that bad,” Ace says. His hand is covering his mouth, and I don’t have to see behind his fingers to know he’s smirking.

I glare halfheartedly and retrieve my ball from where the machine spit it back out.