Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen Page 0,5

I always felt like he was doing it on purpose, trying to rub it in that he had a whole crew of people to hang out with while I only had Maritza and JaKory.

“It’s only five minutes away,” Grant went on. “And it’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“We’re hanging out,” I said testily, gesturing between Maritza and JaKory.

“Doing what? Sitting around in the basement like you always do?”

I felt my face go hot. My little brother had recently developed a cruel streak. It didn’t come out often, but when it did, I never knew what to say back.

“Grant,” Maritza cut in. “If you want us to drop you off, try asking without insulting us.”

Maritza often talked to Grant like he was her own little brother. I guess it went back to all those summers she’d spent over here, with Grant following her around trying to impress her with broken bits of Spanish, or maybe it was because she was an only child who’d always wanted siblings. It used to make me proud that she felt so close to him, but lately it had started to dig under my skin. I hated feeling like a wall had gone up between Grant and me, and Maritza’s way of talking to him as if she was the cool, unruffled big sister only made me feel worse.

Grant took a deep breath through his nose. “If you guys could drop me off tonight,” he said evenly, “I’d really appreciate it.”

I stared at him. It would have felt so satisfying to tell him no, but Maritza seemed to read my mind.

“Codi,” she said.

I ignored her and took a deep breath of my own. “Fine,” I told my brother. “Anything else?”

Grant’s eyes flicked up to the TV. “What are you watching?”

“Nothing,” the three of us said together.

He looked suspicious for a moment, but then he shrugged, dashed out of the room, and thundered up the stairs, shutting the door with a loud snap.

2

We took Grant to his movie around seven fifteen. The rain had stopped and the sun was shining meekly as we wound our way down familiar roads. Maritza drove, mostly because she liked to be in control, but also because her car was newer than mine and smelled like her “Summer Rain” air freshener. Grant was unnaturally quiet on the way there. When he got out of the car, he looked around at the dozens of people heading into the theater before he turned back to us.

“Can you get me at nine thirty?”

“Sure,” Maritza said before I could answer.

Grant seemed distracted. “Thanks,” he said, sweeping his hair to the side. He shut the door and tore off to the ticket window.

Maritza, JaKory, and I went for pizza at our favorite local joint, Mr. Cheesy. Over the last year, since Maritza and I had gotten our driver’s licenses, we’d come here dozens of times. The guy who owned the place liked us so much that he usually gave us free sodas, and he’d even tacked a picture of us to the Wall of Fame behind the register. We wolfed down our usual large stuffed-crust Hawaiian while we played MASH on the paper tablecloth, and Maritza and JaKory squealed when they both ended up marrying Michael B. Jordan.

“Let’s walk over to Walgreens,” JaKory said after we’d paid and stepped outside. “I want to get my mom a card. Or maybe some flowers.”

“Your cards are the best,” I said, stealing a sip from his to-go cup of Sprite. “What’s that thing again? About words being your—”

“Love language,” JaKory said automatically. He loved answering questions. “Mine is Words of Affirmation. And yours is probably Quality Time. And Maritza’s is being bossy.”

“Shut up,” Maritza said, shoving him playfully. “I’m obviously Physical Touch.”

Walgreens was bright and quiet. We followed JaKory to the greeting cards aisle, where I helped him pick through the Sympathy/Thinking of You section. Maritza got bored and wandered off to a different aisle.

“This one’s got a strong spiritual theme, which Mom will appreciate,” JaKory said, holding up a beige card, “but this one’s Dancing with the Stars, and that’s our favorite show to—”

“Heyooo!” Maritza yelled, popping around the corner with a plastic archery bow in her hand. “Look alive, bitches!”

She shot a plastic arrow at my hip, followed promptly by an arrow that hit a row of greeting cards. I chucked both arrows back at her while she loaded a third onto the plastic bow. JaKory turned on his heel and stomped away, grumbling about us making