Red Rover | gxg | Wattys 2023 Winner | ✔

(36) Black, White, and Pink

She does a mock double-take. "Wait, you mean you might be selecting courses off an actual website next year, not a spreadsheet that they email around with a 'sincere apology' because half your first-year requirements are unsearchable on the school portal?"

"I know, right? Luxuries of the twenty-first century."

"The irony that the whole internet will make it back up before the university administrative system does."

"Oh, speaking of that. I have something for you inside."

Ditzy always looks cute when she frowns. "For right now? Or for later?"

"It can be later."

That's an unspoken agreement. The weather is gorgeous, crisp and cold and sunny, with a brilliantly blue sky that seems intent on holding its color as long as possible against the advance of evening. It's been cloudy all week, until last night's dump of snow. Ditzy settles back in her snow-chair. Another collective scream goes up as the toboggan chain departs. It's up to eight sleds now. The group has picked up my mother and several more cousins, and seems to be going for a record.

"Patrick seems happy," says Ditzy, breaking the silence. "He didn't strike me as someone who'd like crowds."

"We have the fun kind of crowd."

"True."

I'm pretty sure that's what made the difference. Patrick took a long time to acclimate to living with my family and Ditzy, because of course my mother adopted them both before she even she heard their stories. It was months before Patrick could stop freezing any time a dad, granddad, or uncle called for him, or any time someone put a hand on his shoulder, or any time a door slammed. He's told us the person who pushed him off the bridge in Chesnet was his half-brother, and that his dad was a rich banker in Chesnet's uptown east side, but he hasn't said much else. Which is fine, really. He can say however much he's comfortable disclosing. I think having us all around helps, at least. And Seb. They've become friends.

I know Patrick wants to reconnect with his mother eventually. She's on the opposite side of the globe and they've only met twice, but planes aren't back yet anyway, so the longevity of any visit is a question and answer for a future time. At least he's tracked her down online and confirmed she's still alive. That alone is something of a miracle.

Ditzy seems content to let whatever remains of her extended family believe she's dead. She hasn't told me much about them. I haven't asked.

"Alright, I'm getting cold," says Ditzy. "See if they need any help with supper?"

"It's J, his dad, and Seb on tonight."

"Ah. So stay clear of the kitchen, then."

"Seb's not opposed to rolling over toes if someone gets in his way or opens the oven too early. And Leandro's named his favorite spatula Slappy the Battleaxe, Protector of Batter. Just saying."

"You said you had something for me on the other end of the house?"

I burst out laughing. "Meet me in the loft."

We unstick ourselves from our snow-seats and tromp back to the house together. It's big. Big enough for several families, and for Seb to have everything a person could need on the first floor alone. The hallways alone are six feet wide. The place belonged to my grandparents' neighbors once. They were nice people, but they were on vacation somewhere coastal when Red Thursday hit, and, well, the coasts are kind of gone now. The Redding came up from the sea like it rose in San Fel. At least we were right that it was only after us there.

Anyway, we took the house. "We're just keeping it warm for them," my grandfather says, which we all know is a lie. My grandparents woke up seven miles from their farm next door after we put the Redding to sleep. Apparently, they marched home that same day, rounded up the animals, and got both this place and theirs in order before my grandmother started mucking with the radio in search of other signs of life. By the time we arrived at my parents' place, they'd cleared out with a note to come to grandma and grandpa's. We rolled up the driveway to find half my extended family and several neighbors sitting around a fire in lawn chairs—shelling beans, seeding sunflowers, and gossipping about telecommunications monopolies taking over the world.