The traditional start to summer calls for a backyard cookout. Which I’ve always liked because Dad can barbeque like nobody’s business. He makes it look easy. The wind’s blowing the smoke right into his face, and Dad’s not even batting an eyelash. He likes it when that happens.

But I’m smelling hot dogs, so I’m not complaining.

It’s a cool night, with a little wind but it’s still really hot. There’s sodas stacked together by the door to the living room, and chips to go with whatever else Dad’s cooking.

“How was your junior year?” asks Mrs. Harwood. She’s a little older than Mom, but she’s prettier.

Don’t tell Mom I said that.

“It was okay.” I look away across the lake. “Geoscience was hard. So was precalc.”

“I heard from Paul that your soccer team almost made it to regionals.”

I look at her and grin. “Yeah, that was…that was pretty cool.”

Mrs. Harwood tucks some hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry about…” She nods her head towards Rory, who’s sitting by my dad. He’s probably having the same conversation I am. “He said they were for an extra credit science project.” Mrs. Harwood looks at me. “Sometimes, my child can be kind of…contemptible. Frustratingly behaved, I mean.” I didn’t ask her to correct herself, but apparently I had no idea what she was talking about.

“It’s…” I’m not using the word ‘fine’ because there’s no way in Hell that that was okay. “I mean…” I lick my lips. How do I not say, “It’s totally fine with you but the next time he does it I’m gonna push him over the side of a balcony and hope he breaks some limbs”?

“I-I asked him to be nice this summer,” she insists, though that doesn’t make me feel any better, really. Mom does the same, and here we are. But Mrs. Harwood continues, “Let me know if he’s ever being too…Rory, okay?”

I nod, and she asks me about my upcoming senior year.

But I can feel Rory staring daggers at me.

My plan to put shaving gel in his bed didn’t happen. He got here first, and even then, Mom’s been watching me like a freaking hawk for four hours. She doesn’t trust me. Which is fine because I want to do it anyways. It’s not my best revenge scheme, but it’s still something.

It’s only when Mr. and Mrs. Harwood are talking to Mom, and Dad’s gone inside, that Rory sits next to me. “Like my lil’ gift?” he asks, nudging me.

I grit my teeth. I shiver, just from remembering.

“Hey.” He nudges me again. “It’s fuckin’ rude to not talk to people.”

I take a sip of my soda. “Nice night.” Small talk. Because it isn’t actual conversation.

“There’s a spider right there.”

I physically jerk, standing up and swatting my sides. My plate with food’s flipped on the ground, and my soda’s fallen somewhere behind me into the bushes.

And Rory’s smiling, watching me with this satisfied look on his face. It just makes me want to punch him.

“Jackson?” asks Mom. She stands and begins walking towards me.

So I knock Rory’s food out of his hands. “Fuck you, too.” And head off inside.

My night’s over.