Kids These Days

Chapter 25: Andy

I sink into the welcome embrace of the plush armchair, my leg muscles burning from an impromptu basketball game in the park, and flick on the VCR. The tape starts where I left off: halfway through "Catch-22", the final episode of my favorite television series, Dynasty. I stuff a handful of buttery popcorn into my mouth and crank up the volume.

It's dark and cozy in the den, all of the curtains drawn to block out the desert sun. I haven't gotten this room all to myself in weeks. Auntie Mack took the children to a day-trip at the Needles Waterpark and Uncle George is in New Mexico attending a convention for old men who like old trains, so the house is quiet for the first time in... who knows how long. I can hardly remember a time when it was just my dad, Oliver, and me.

The doorbell rings. I roll my eyes, turning up the volume even higher. Let Joyce answer the door for once. It's probably one of her Mary Kay friends, anyway.

On screen, Sable delivers snarky one-liners in a pink dress I'd kill to own. I lean forward in the armchair, totally absorbed, even though I've already watched this episode a dozen times and everyone knows it ends on a horrible cliffhanger.

The doorbell rings again. This time, it's accompanied by Joyce's high-pitched shriek of annoyance: "Andrea, would you please get the door!"

"Make Oliver I do!" I shout back, not dragging my eyes away from the television.

"I don't know where your brother is, and I can't leave the bathroom until I wash my hair dye out!" Joyce is always complaining about her "gray roots" as if every day she wakes up and rediscovers the fact that she's in her forties. The doorbell keeps ringing. "Andrea!"

"Fine!" I stand up too quickly, knocking over the bowl and scattering popcorn kernels all over the carpet. Dutifully, Ricky leaps down from the sofa to clean up my mess. At least someone in this household has my best interests at heart.

Cursing under my breath, I stomp down the hallway to the front door. If the cousins are back from the waterpark already... "I don't have any money for you, Auntie Mack," I say as I unhook the chain. "As a matter of fact, I don't have any money at all, considering how I was just fired!"

"Just answer the door, Andrea!"

I yank the door open with unnecessary force. "You're not my aunt."

"Last time I checked," says Finn, his orange hair windswept and a Schwinn bicycle propped under his arm, "I wasn't anybody's aunt."

"I don't know, Sarah and Henry seem to be getting pretty serious. Got an extra room in the Winnebago?"

Finn's sunburned nose wrinkles in disgust. He's wearing his Cross Country letter jacket, three lapel pins for three years of running proudly displayed on the front. "Do me a favor and don't ever joke about that again."

"You have a totally normal relationship with your in-laws." I give Finn a skeptical look. He's moving around too much, fidgeting with his bike bell and scuffing his beat-up sneakers against the welcome mat. "Hey, is something wrong?"

"No. Not really." Finn grimaces. "I don't know. I guess I was hoping you could help me figure that out. Want to go for a ride?"

I raise my eyebrows at his bicycle. "Like E.T.?"

"Like, in your car."

"I forgot you don't know how to drive." I snatch the car keys and fall into step with Finn as he wheels his bike across the sun-scorched driveway. "Is this how you always pick up girls? No wonder Becca dumped your ass."

"Don't rub it in."

I pop the trunk, and Finn jams his bicycle inside. Then we pile into the Volkswagen, doors slamming in unison, our hands knocking together when we reach for the radio dial at the same time.