Alan’s son has been joining us, he says. You two can hang out together.

Alan works at the insurance office with my father. I’ve met his son before and have no reason to ever do it again.

I have a chemistry test to study for, I say. And I suck at poker, remember? You used to say you didn’t want me to come along and embarrass you.

My father sighs and walks away. He’ll do anything to avoid being embarrassed around “the guys.” I’ve dodged a bullet this time.

There used to be a time when Connor and I both wanted to go with him, just to see what happened on these mysterious jaunts to Queens. But that was before we understood the type of people our dad called friends. Before we understood that we were the enemy.

Where’s Andy? James asks Becky. I think he’s trying to torture her or make her realize they should break up or something.

James and Becky are always trying to get under each other’s skin, but something about this topic makes me squirm, because while Andy and James are polar opposites, Andy is a good guy and as long as he makes Becky happy, I think we should be happy for them.

It’s like James is penalizing her for being the only one of us in a relationship.

Becky looks up and answers, On patrol. Like always.

James makes a point of not looking at me when he says, Well, there are other boys. Other girls. Other…

I’m sure she knows that, I cut him off.

James doesn’t like to think about my sordid past, she says.

Like he’s one to talk, I joke.

James rolls his eyes and says, Oh, you’d be surprised.

Later, I wrap the phone cord around my wrist like a snake.

So how wild is your past, Becks? I tease. I’ve heard rumors and all that, but it’s not like I really believe them.

Oh, you know, she says. Before I met Andy…well, I’ve always liked falling in love more than being in a relationship.

I nod, even though she can’t see me. Even though I’m not sure what it’s like to really fall in love or to be in a relationship. Or which I’d like better.

I pull the cord tight around my wrist, oddly enjoying the way my fingers go cold and numb.

But, she says, and I can hear her pause, figuring out the best way to string together her words. She settles on, Let’s talk about James. Can you name anyone he’s actually been with?

Becky’s theory confuses me because James is always surrounded by girls, always surrounded by boys. Always in the center of a storm of admirers. Who knows what he does when he isn’t with us? And when would he have time to get to know one person and why would he bother?

But no, I tell her. I don’t know anyone.

Me either, she says. And don’t you think that’s strange?