“That was fun, wasn’t it?” I ask as we wind our way through the gates to the exit. Lucas doesn’t answer. “Lucas?” I look down at him. I don’t know my new stepbrother very well, but I do know he should be shouting and excited right now. Instead, his pale skin is even whiter than usual—almost green. He clutches his stomach.

I crouch next to him. He starts to cry. “Are you okay—”

And that’s when half-digested corn dog and ice cream gushes in a torrent onto my shoes. Lucas moans. He tries to bury his face in my lap and then retches again. I fall on the cement with a thud. My stomach bounces. No! This is so disgusting and embarrassing. How did I ever think having a little brother would be a good thing? I just hope no one I know sees me like this.

“Oh, no, you two!” My mom appears just then and rushes toward me, dropping Bob’s hand. Kenny, who holds a gigantic funnel cake, follows. “What happened?” she asks, even though it’s obvious. “I’m sorry, Mattie.”

“Too much of a good thing, Luke?” Bob asks, kneeling next to his crying kid.

I feel like crying, too. But when I look up at my mom, I realize she and Bob are trying not to laugh. She pulls a couple flimsy paper napkins from her purse and hands one to Bob and one to me. I wipe away the warm puke from my jeans, but they’re probably ruined. I watch my mom help Bob clean up this little boy. My mom, being a mother to this stranger. Kenny stands to the side like he’s embarrassed to be seen with us. Which is fair.

Then Lucas scrambles to his feet, wipes his mouth on the clean edge of his T-shirt. He hugs his dad. “I feel a lot better now!” He runs back and forth, twirling in circles as if nothing happened. “That was awesome, Mattie!”

That was about as far from awesome as it could be. A surge of something—anger or frustration or humiliation—swirls from my toes, up my legs, out my arms, and into my fingers. I scramble to my feet and ball the gross napkins. Tears prick my eyes. Kenny shuffles toward me and, without a word, grabs the napkins from my hands and throws the mess in a trash can. I open my mouth to say thanks, but before I can say anything, my mom puts an arm around my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mattie-mouse.”

I look around the Boardwalk. I don’t see anyone I recognize from school. This is the first time since we moved to California that I’m glad I don’t know anyone.

CHAPTER 14 Mercedes