Page 24

Aunt Jojo disappears to the RV after dinner—but she’s left us no fewer than ten pints of ice cream in the freezer.

“Can she just, like, marry me already?” I shake my head. “I literally don’t think it’s possible for a person to be more perfect.”

“You know you can buy yourself ice cream without being a child bride,” Nat reminds me.

“Um, first of all, fuck you.” I settle onto the couch beside her, giving her ponytail a quick tug. “Second of all, I’ve been

a grown-ass adult for almost seven months, thank you.”

“You’re in high school. Jojo’s thirty.”

“Natillion, I can’t help it if Jojo’s a MILF.”

“She’s not a MILF.”

“Rude!”

“Does she have children?” Nat asks. “Is she a mother?”

“See, you’re being too literal. MILFness is a state of mind—”

“Oh, we’re gatekeeping MILFness again?” Mark asks. He settles onto the love seat, balancing a full pint of chocolate ice cream

on his thigh.

I narrow my eyes. “Only one spoon, I see.”

“Get your own pint,” he says.

“And get me one,” Nat adds.

“Admit—”

“She’s a MILF. Very MILFy.”

“Correct. Also, Zora Bora, why are you groping your own boobs?”

“As opposed to groping your boobs?” Nat asks.

“As opposed to groping no boobs—”

“Why are girls,” Mark says faintly.

“I think”—Zora pulls out the collar of her shirt, peering into it—“I dropped a Goldfish in my bra.”

“You know, that would be a fun sequel to Finding Nemo .”

Nat looks affronted. “ Finding Dory erasure. Wow.”

Moments later, I’m back to distribute my haul. Three spoons and a stack of three pints. I kneel before them. “M’ladies.”

Zora and Nat just stare at me.

“Tough choices, I know. Here.” I hand a pint of cookie dough to Zora, chocolate for Nat, and then I stick a second pint of

chocolate at the edge of the coffee table. “Here you go. Spoons. Man, I feel like such a provider right now. Lioness, home from the hunt. Feeding my pack.”

“Your pride,” Natalie says.

“It’s earned!”

She cracks a smile. “Pride of lions. Not a pack.”

“Right. Wow. I forgot how gay lions are.” I grab my pint and settle back onto the couch, right between Zora and Nat. “Hey,

speaking of gay—”

“Nope. Not watching Shop Talk again,” Mark says. He’s sprawled across the entire length of the love seat, of course. “Vetoed.”

“Straight people banning gay content? Fun! It’s like a school board meeting!”

“Please tell me you know the difference between a ban and a veto.”

Zora smiles sheepishly. “Actually—can I co-veto Shop Talk ?”

I gasp. “You love Shop Talk !”

“I do! I know,” she rushes to add. “But Edith and I were thinking about watching it together tomorrow. After Walter’s thing.

It’s actually her—”

“Number one favorite movie of all time. I know—she’s only mentioned it on, like, fifty Zoom calls.”

“How have you had fifty Zoom calls with my girlfriend?”

I take a bite of ice cream. “I don’t know, maybe because you’ve been dating for a thousand years and we spend half our time

in your room?”

Nat nods solemnly. “It adds up.”

“I literally can’t believe we’re meeting her in person tomorrow. Zora, this is huge !”

Zora smiles a little. “I’m not going to regret this, right?”

I let out a laugh. “You mean us meeting her?”

“She means don’t be a weirdo, Weirdo,” Mark translates.

I raise my spoon emphatically. “Okay, you know what—”

“You know who you look like?” Nat interjects. “The Statue of Liberty.”

“What? Absolutely not. She’s like this.” Spoon in hand, I stretch my arm fully aloft before pulling it back in. “I’m like

this. Look. Look at that elbow.”

“Well, yeah. You’re the lazy girl version.”

I nod. “Lazy Liberty. Yes.”

“Statue of Lethargy.”

I poke her with the end of my spoon and turn back to Zora. “ Anyway . Just saying, it’s going to be amazing, okay? We love Edith, and we love you, and we’re all gonna be on our very best behavior.

Nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks.” She smiles.

“Won’t even heckle you guys if you start making out.”

“Ohhhhkay—”

“And there will be makeouts, I trust. Bountiful makeouts.”

“Bountiful. Wow,” Nat says, and Zora promptly buries her face in a throw pillow.

“As a matter of fact, Natalulu, the current probability of bountiful makeouts is said to be extremely high. Almost unprecedented,

even.”

“Unprecedented with respect to the general population? Or just—”

“Speaking of,” Zora says, peeking over the pillow. “What’s the deal with Walter?”

I take another spoonful of ice cream. “What deal?”

“I believe”—Mark leans forward—“she’s inquiring about your makeout bounty.”

“Okay, this has nothing—I repeat— nothing to do with Walter.” I shake my head, make a hmph noise, and open Instagram.

“Nothing at all, clearly,” Nat says, leaning closer. “Are you commenting? Telling him we’re coming?”

I flip my phone facedown on my lap. “Hey! Movie time! What are we watching?”