“About?”

He rolls his eyes. “Being home for the summer. One last little adventure before the rest of your life starts.”

“It’s not the rest of my life. It’s more school. Or, at least I hope it’ll be.” If they take me back, that is. I think the words were “academic suspension.”

“You’ll be okay,” he says, patting my hand.

“It’s no big deal.” It actually is, but I don’t even want to think about it right now. Now is supposed to be a time of calm and healing and some other esoteric bullshit. “Let’s not talk about bad stuff, okay? I don’t want Bear to start crying again.” Trying to keep it light.

“I heard that,” Bear says. “I’m a man! Men don’t cry.”

“You cry,” Otter says. “All the time. Like full-on snot-face, puffy-cheeked, gross crying.” He raises his voice to high-pitched hysterics. “I’m gay and I want to tell everyone at dinner and make things superawkward for everyone and then snot all over Otter’s shirt!”

“You worry about the weirdest things, Papa Bear,” I tell him.

“I didn’t say it like that!” Bear shouts, his voice going into high-pitched hysterics. He scowls. When he speaks again, his voice is at least two octaves lower than his normal speaking voice. “I was calm, cool, and collected, and everyone had a lovely evening.”

“Bullshit,” Otter and I say at the same time.

“You guys are assholes,” Bear mutters.

“You’d think I’d be used to you guys by now,” Corey says. “Those moments I find out I’m not are very strange.”

“You’re strange,” Bear retorts.

“Bear’s just emotionally stunted,” I tell Corey. “He’s been that way since I can remember.”

“I’ll show you emotionally stunted, you little shi—”

“I think that’s something that runs in the family,” Corey says.

“Kid, stop upsetting your brother,” Otter warns. “Bear, calm down. Corey, you….”

“Yes, Oliver?” Corey asks, batting his eyelashes.

“You stay classy,” Otter says with a wink.

Corey sighs dreamily.

“Gross,” Bear and I say at the same time.

“Now go away, both of you,” Corey says to the front seat. “We’re gossiping.” He leans his head toward mine. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What?”

“Are you excited about being home? You’ve never come back before. Even when Derrick and Oliver made trips back, you always stayed in New Hampshire. Surely you’ve missed this place.”

It’s inevitable, a voice whispers in my head.

“I guess,” I say.

“I would think something called the Green Monstrosity beckons constantly. I know it would to me. You should know I am expecting something grotesquely palatial.”

“Boy, are you going to be disappointed, then. It’s nothing grand.” That’s a lie, though I don’t know why I say that. I’ve missed that house more than a person should probably miss a house. It’s weird. “It’s not too bad.”

Not too bad? it echoes. It’s where you met D—

No. Not that name. That name stays far away from me.

Oh? it whispers. Because actively not thinking about something always works. Say it. Say his name.