At this, May’s head snaps up, and he reaches down to ruffle her purple hair. A guilty expression crosses her face, but I don’t think he notices in his excitement. “They’re not named for me,” she says. “They’re named for the month. And the festival. And the town.”

“And you’re named for the town,” he tells her. “Therefore, they’re named for you.”

She sets her pen down on her notebook and twists to face her dad better. “We don’t always win.”

He scowls. “All right, fine. We usually win. But we’re not letting the O’Brien twins beat us this year. I don’t care if they have freaky twin advantages. We’re the dream team.”

May’s guilty look returns. “Um, Dad? About the games...”

“What?” he asks.

“I asked Grandma if she’d do them with me this year. Since we’ve never gotten to do anything like that together before.”

Brenden’s face falls, the brightness dimming like the sun sliding behind a cloud. But he recovers quickly, giving her a smile that almost looks real. “Oh. Well, sure. Of course you should do it with your grandmother, if that’s what you want. That’ll be fun for you guys! I’ll get to just chill out and watch for once and cheer you on from the sidelines. That’ll be fun. Super fun. Maybe I’ll make an embarrassing sign to hold up.”

I reach out and gently squeeze his thigh, hoping to calm him so he’ll ease up on the babbling.

“Actually, I figured you’d want to compete with Travis,” May says.

Woah there. Compete with who now?

My panicked eyes meet Brenden’s. I’m planning to do the boyfriend thing and go to the festival with him. But my participation is not supposed to extend beyond watching and trying not to sneer at the madness.

He grimaces. “May, you know that’s not Travis’s thing.”

When she glances at me, her guilty look has morphed into something else. Something a little more mischievous. “I know it’s not normally his thing. But I’m sure he’d love to compete with you. Isn’t that the kind of thing boyfriends do together?”

She smiles sweetly, but I see the calculation behind it. She knows exactly what she’s doing—trapping us. Is it weird to be scared of a thirteen-year-old?

“We, um.” Brenden kicks her subtly, out of her grandparents’ view. “He... It’s...”

“What’s the matter?” Elise asks. “Are you two afraid you’ll get beaten by a teenager and an old lady?”

Oh hell. They’re in on this together.

“There’s no way you’ll beat us!” Brenden exclaims. Then he shoots me an apologetic look, because that sure sounded like an agreement that we’ll be competing together.