Page 82 of One Last Time

He grumbled but eventually muttered, “Fine. Jeez. I guess we’ve just gotta hope our mom doesn’t find out….”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

On the morning of Fourth of July, a weird tension hung around the beach house. I hadn’t really seen Lee since he’d gone off to Berkeley without me—he’d gotten back on the Sunday while I was at work, and we’d somehow managed to stay out of each other’s way later that night.

Amanda was back staying with us. She was making pancakes when Noah and I got up.

“My mother’s working,” she told us. “And my dad is out playing golf with some guys he met. It’s not like Independence Day is a big deal for us, so we don’t have any plans. Wedid,back when this was still a last-ditch happy-family holiday, but…” Amanda blew a raspberry to make her point.

“You’re welcome to celebrate it with us,” I offered, like she wasn’t already counting on doing just that.

“I’m going to spend every holiday with you guys if you’re not careful,” she joked. “If my parents keep fighting, I’ll be begging for a spot at your Christmas dinner, too. Oh look!” she said. “I have strawberries and blueberries and cream. Red, white, and blue! Themed breakfast!”

“She’s more into this holiday than we are,” I stage-whispered to Noah from behind a hand, giving her a melodramatically wary look. “Do you think we should, like, go throw all her tea in the sea to remind her what today’s all about?”

“I vote we throwherin the sea,” Noah replied in the same way, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

“Hey, don’t forget who’s making you guys breakfast.”

She finished arranging a dollop of whipped cream on one of the plates before gesturing for us to sit, then putting heaped, colorful plates in front of us and chopping more fruit.

“Thanks,” Noah said. “You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, please.” Amanda waved the knife dismissively in our direction. “You know I’m an early bird, mister. And a little cooking is the least I can do for you guys, for letting me stay. You havenoidea.”

“None at all,” I deadpanned. “It’s not like we heard the rant for, like, three hours solid yesterday.”

Noah cut me a look but relaxed when Amanda laughed.

“What’s so funny? Oh, man,somethingsmells good.” Lee hopped into the kitchen, clicking his ankles together and then hunching forward, eyes shut and head leading, as he weaved through the kitchen, sniffing noisily, mimicking a cartoon character who’d just detected a pie on a windowsill.

“Mmm,” he said, straightening up and leaning around Amanda. “You’re back again? I thought we finally got rid of you.”

“Lee,” Noah huffed.

“Guess you didn’t try hard enough,” Amanda told him, waving her spatula before going back to easing the pancake away from the edges of the pan.

“Pancakes?”

“Happy Fourth of July!”

Lee turned around to look at us. He arched an eyebrow, catching my eye and whispering loudly, “She knows what this holiday is all about, right?”

I felt a rush of relief at how normal he was acting.

“I’m not convinced, so we’re doing a whole reenactment for her later. I get to be Jefferson,” I told Lee. “You can be John Adams.”

“Aw, man. Can’t I be Franklin? I’ll get the old kite out of the den and everything. I will even throw in the Twinkie I found under my seat in the car yesterday.”

“Hmm. You drive a hard bargain, Lee Flynn.”

“You know, Noah,” Amanda announced, “when you told me they were a pair of freaks, I was like, ‘Nah, he’s just exaggerating, he doesn’t mean it,’ but, oh man, did youmean it.” She finished planting another pancake on a plate, then delicately decorated the stack with blueberries, chopped strawberries, and a flourish of whipped cream before handing Lee the plate. “Voilà.”

“Hey! Red, white, and blue! Nice!”

“I’m glad someone appreciates it.”

“We appreciate it,” I told her, my mouth full of pancake, gesturing my fork between me and Noah.