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The table was spread with chicken korma, rice, naan bread, soft wraps, salads. We could choose to put our chicken on rice or in a burrito. Burritos reminded me of Grandma. She made burritos whenever we went to see her in Archwood. It was her signature dish.

The five of us didn't eat together every night. Most weeknights the household were doing their own thing. Homework. Practice. The gym. Whatever. But we reserved Friday nights as family night and stuck to it as best we could. 

"How was school?" Dad asked, piling his plate with a bit of everything. "The first week go well?"

"Good," Abby answered first. "AP calc isn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"That's because you're paying Eddie Poller to do the homework," I announced from the other side of the table.

"I am not!" She picked up her burrito the wrong way and half of her filling fell out. "Ugh fuck."

"Derrrrrr."

"Shut up Luc," Dad sighed.

"Flynn is a good tutor huh," Mom smiled with a brief nod.

"He is."

"Mom and Dad," Max interrupted from beside Abby. He set his food down and clenched his fists. His nerves were seeping straight into me and I hated it. "I have to tell you something."

"It's alright," Dad said. "Whoever he is, he's welcome here. We're happy if you're happy."

"What?" Max furrowed his brows. "Dad, I'm not gay!"

"Oh," he shrugged. "I just figured out of the three of you, there had to be one."

"It'd be Lucas," Abby said, flipping me off when I slid a finger across my throat. 

"Doesn't count," I whispered.

"Ignore your father," mom said. 

Dad threw his arms up in outrage. "I'm being supportive."

"What did you want to tell us, Max," Mom picked up her glass of wine.

Max took a deep breath. Abby and I kept quiet because we knew what it was. Max had made his decision between debate and football. 

"I dropped football today," he said with his gaze cast down at the plate in front of him. His food hadn't been touched. He was wound up, I could tell. I could feel it. His anxiousness was coursing through my veins and I wanted to tell him to snap the fuck out of it. "I joined debate and gave up football because I want to do law in college."

The room fell silent. Abby sat beside Max on the other side of the table, her expression was full of support as she smiled at our brother. 

Mom and Dad stared at each other. The sound of Francesca cleaning in the kitchen was audibly louder against the silence. The light rustle of the hedges outside could be heard under the open window and even the neighbors husky scratching against the fence was like nails against chalkboard.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Dad shouted. "How could you disapp—" his sentence dropped off as he laughed at our shock. "I'm kidding. It's fine. Max do whatever. Just make sure you love it."

"Drayton, do you have to fuck with them all the time," Mom snapped. "I spilled wine on my shirt from the damn shouting," she dabbed at her pale purple tank top with a napkin.

"Just take it off."

"I think the fuck not," I threw a cube of cucumber at his face.

Mom ignored him and looked at Max with pride. "It's hard to imagine you in debate but I'm proud of you for taking control of your future. You should do what you want."

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