Page 36 of Unsupervised

With a chuckle, she shrugs. “I don’t know what drugs he was on, but you don’t generally decide to strip naked, then climb a tree for a nap, so it must’ve been something.”

“He was naked?”

“Well, if you don’t count the knee high, red and green Christmas socks.” Before I can process that, she adds. “Only one was on his foot.”

As we’re finishing up, a loud sound from outside makes everyone jump, the echo of it slowly fading. “What the hell was that?” someone asks from the other side of the room.

Gavin glances out the window, then shakes his head at us with a grin. “I don’t think you need the Frat Hell guys. Your friends seem to do crazy just fine.”

He’s not wrong. Owen, Marty, and Graham stand around a giant metal stock tank, the type meant to provide water to livestock. They’re unraveling hoses and stretching them to reach some of the neighbor’s water spigots. It’s a little unnerving how normal everyone seems to think this is.

Almost everyone moves outside to see what they’re up to. “What are you doing? That’s kind of big to ice a keg isn’t it?”

“It’s not for kegs,” Owen laughs, waving to Graham who has returned to the truck to get something. Is that…dirt?

Yep. Marty feeds the hoses into the tank and waves at someone to turn on the water as Graham and Owen start dumping dirt in with it. All three of them then jump in and start mixing it with their feet.

“Sounds like sex,” Marty snorts.

“If that’s what it sounds like when you’re fucking, you should see a doctor,” Owen says, stomping his feet like they’re crushing grapes.

“I still have no idea what this is about.”

Owen beams at me. “This is our late night entertainment. Mud wrestling.” He winks at Remee. “My money’s on you, babe. It’s always the quiet ones.”

“I am not mud wrestling.” The words come from me, Remee, and Zara simultaneously.

“We’ll see,” Marty laughs, nodding toward the delivery truck that has just pulled in. “Kegs are here.”

“So is Trey,” Zara points out as my brother pulls in. Why are they pulling a rented trailer?

Sasha waves to me from the front seat of the truck before she gets out. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you! I thought you weren’t coming. Trey said Rowan was sick.”

Sasha’s mouth falls open and she spins around to confront Trey. “That’s the excuse you gave! Do you want me to kick you in the balls? Don’t jinx him!”

Trey retreats to the back of the trailer, and I ask, “Where is Rowan?”

“With a babysitter. I’m sorry we can’t stay long. It’s the first time I’ve left him and it’s kind of killing me.”

“I understand.” I hug her, and she grabs my wrist, pulling me into the road and to the back of the open trailer.

“I wanted to be here to see you get your gift.” Her excitement is palpable and for a moment, I’m leery. My brother and his friends are more likely to prank me on my birthday than bring a gift.

Oh my god.

“Happy Birthday, Smelly,” Trey says, beaming as he rolls a bright yellow motor scooter out of the trailer and stops it in front of me.

“Are you serious!” I screech. I’ve always wanted a scooter. It was a hardhell nofrom my parents and after I got a car, I sort of gave up on it. “You can’t just buy me—”

“I can and did. What are you going to do about it?” Trey says.

“Thank you! I can’t believe it!” Neighbors start to gather around to admire my gift as I throw myself at Trey, hugging him until he pulls me off, embarrassed as I keep gushing. “And it’s my favorite color! It’s so pretty!”

“What kind of sociopath has yellow for a favorite color?” Owen snorts, and Serena elbows him in the ribs.

Trey watches as I climb onto the scooter. “You need something to get you to school and work. It’s not a car but—”