going,” Uncle Michael says, and all but pulls us through the door.
Just before I leave the house, I turn to Sara and mouth, Want to ride with us?
For a split second I think she’s considering it, but she finally shakes her head. “I’ll see you there,” she whispers.
Maybe Nonna isn’t the only matchmaker in the family.
Jason, Michael, and I get in Jason’s car. I wasn’t expecting us to ride together, but at this point in the dating game nothing surprises me.
Jason and I chitchat on the way to the bowling alley, and I find out he’s a junior at the same school as Olivia, Wes, and Charlie. He has Media Arts with Charlie, and I hear story after story about the bizarre things Charlie does in the name of entertainment.
Wish I could say any of it surprises me, but it doesn’t.
I can tell when we’re at the right place because every person in the parking lot is in some kind of costume.
“We’re not the only Game of Thrones team, are we?” I ask Uncle Michael.
“Nope,” he says. “There’s House Bowl-ton.” He points to a group of guys walking toward the door wearing black jeans and T-shirts with the “flayed man” picture on the back. “And then there’s Lords of Pin-terfell.” He looks me up and down again then adds, “I guess you should be bowling with them, dressed like that. And there’s A Team Has No Name. But we were the first!”
I turn to Jason and ask, “Have you ever done this before?” I’ve yet to find out how Uncle Michael knows him.
“No. But my brother is on Michael’s team, so I’ve heard about it. The stories don’t do it justice.”
“Do y’all dress up every time you get together?” I ask Uncle Michael.
“Nope, just for the end-of-year bash.”
We get inside, and Jason and I have to rent shoes. We’re the only ones who need to. Everybody else not only owns their own shoes, but it looks like they also have their own bowling balls. And in most cases, their team’s theme has been worked into the design of the ball.
We sit side by side, pulling on the blue-and-red shoes, when a pack of half-dressed guys walk in. It’s almost like there’s an invisible fan in front of them, blowing their hair back perfectly.
“Olivia is going to be bummed she’s not on that team.”
Jason laughs. “I would think being oiled up like that would make bowling difficult.”
And oiled up they are. They’re practically glistening under the fluorescent lights.
While Michael and his teammates program everyone’s name into the overhead scoreboard, Jason and I people-watch. There’s a group in the lane next to us dressed up like priests and nuns named the Holy Rollers. We’ve also seen Team E-bowl-a, who are a bunch of doctors in their scrubs, some redneck-looking guys in Team Gutt-er-done, and the stoners of Team Smoke-A-Bowl.
But my personal favorite is Team Spare Wars.
“I’m kind of bummed they don’t dress up like this all the time,” I say to Jason.
“Okay, now that we’re all here, it’s time for a team picture,” Uncle Michael says. He gathers everyone together and puts Jason and me front and center. “Since we’re the Lane-isters, I want to see arrogance and smugness.” He glares at my outfit yet again. “Or we could all aim our swords at the traitor in the middle?”
“Ha. Ha,” I say.
After some discussion, Jason and I cross our arms across our chests and get back-to-back, then turn our faces toward the woman taking our photo. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt, white blouse, and black glasses, and her hair is in a bun.
“What team is she on?” I ask.
“Team Ballbarians,” Jason’s brother, Hank, answers. “Nothing hotter than a librarian who bowls.”
She takes several shots, then Uncle Michael uploads it to all of his social media accounts, tagging everyone in the group.
My phone lights up with notifications, and I swipe it open. The first thing I see in my feed is a picture of Griffin and a girl from the grade below us named Sabrina. They’re sitting in two folding chairs in front of a bonfire with their faces side by side.
There isn’t a caption, only a string of fire emojis.
It’s super lame.
And thankfully, I feel nothing when I see it.
The Pin Ladies and T-Balls finally arrive, and they’re assigned to the lane about four down from ours. Olivia is trying to get them together for a group pic.
I rush over and say, “Want me to take it?”
She hands me her phone