"I'M NOT FORFEITING Prank Week, Hayden. You should."
Hayden frowns at me. "I'm way ahead of you in terms of points. It's clear I'm going to win, so really, it works in your best interest to quit now."
I scoff. "Don't be so sure."
After a 12-hour ceasefire to allow our parents to settle in, Hayden and I convene in the kitchen in the early hours of the following morning to discuss how to progress with the remainder of Prank Week.
Well. It started out as a discussion. Now, it's an angrily whispered squabble over who should forfeit and let the other party win by default.
"You're being ridiculous, Harvey. I've had more successful pranks than you! How do you even expect to catch up?"
"I'm not exactly going to tell you that, am I?"
"Probably because you have no clue yoursel—"
"What are you two doing here so early in the morning?" Mom asks, surprised to find us in the kitchen. "I assumed everyone would still be asleep."
I plaster a warm smile on my face while Hayden throws an arm over my shoulder.
"Oh, we always wake up around this time," he chirps, pulling me to his side. "Been doing it all summer. You know the saying! Early to bed gets the worm!"
That's not even the right saying.
I subtly nudge him when Mom furrows her brows.
"Too much," I mutter through gritted teeth.
There is a point to Hayden's terrible excuse for acting:
Simply put, if Hunter hates Prank Week, my parents want to throw it and its family in a dumpster fire and watch its first child burn.
When we were younger, they probably found it cute and amusing to watch us play harmless pranks on each other. But when two years ago, Prank Week nearly ended in a trip to the emergency room and the fire department at our doorstep... let's just say there's a fifty fifty chance they'll murder us if they found out we once again went on with it this year.
The only way Hayden and I can be sure to live long enough to crown a victor this summer is by keeping our exploits a total secret from Mom and Dad.
"But Mom, how come you're up so early?" I say. "It hasn't even been a full day since you arrived. Aren't you tired after your journey?"
"Oh, don't worry about me, it's fine. I've gotten far too used to waking up early," Mom responds. "Half seven is sleeping in for me."
Mom strolls across the room to the coffee machine, preparing to brew herself a fresh batch.
"Oh, no. Let me," Hayden insists, sidestepping her so he reaches the coffeemaker first. "I'll make you coffee. In fact, I'll make breakfast for everyone. You just sit and relax."
From the way he's acting, I bet he's rigged the coffeemaker to explode in my face. Hayden only makes breakfast for everyone when he's done something wrong.
"Alright..." Mom hesitantly agrees, quirking a brow. "Anyway, this works out perfectly. I was thinking we could take a look at the front yard today. I noticed you kids haven't been tending to my flowerbed this summer. Harvey, care to join me?"
Her statement is posed as a question, but I can see it for what it really is: an order.
Typical Mom. She likes to walk a narrow tightrope between chill and easygoing, and being a total authoritarian.
Well, it works in our favour today. The longer I can keep Mom out the house, the more time I can buy Hayden to get rid of evidence of any pranks our parents could come across.
"Of course," I say in reply, linking arms with her. I lead us out the house into the front garden, where she pulls away from me to crouch in front of the flowerbed.
I'm not sure where she gets the energy from: it's barely eight a.m., she's been trapped in the middle of a jungle with poor signal for months, and it must have taken at least a day to get back home early to 'surprise' us, yet she insists this is the perfect time for a bit of gardening.
In fact, both my parents are like this. They are pushing fifty, but like to act like they're not a day over twenty-five. Thanks to their multi-racial gene pool, they tend to look it too.
A lot of Mom's family originate from Hawaii, but she's also got a bit of Vietnamese in her thanks to her granddad, and her quarter Hispanic mom. My dad, meanwhile is part Moroccan-Portuguese, though a lot of his extended family live in Argentina.
On the most part, you couldn't tell — considering how both my parents were American born and bred, with each enough European ancestry in them to look a very ambiguous, beige-y shade of tan, that translated into the features they gave us children... In short, our family genealogy is a chaotic mess which we prefer to gloss over.
"Looks like all the flower beds have gotten overgrown," Mom sighs. "The hydrangeas have been overrun by weeds. Your father will be so upset. They were his favourites. Spent all spring planting them."
"Mm," I reply. I dig my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, giving the neighbourhood a quick scan. I think I remember Finn saying his mother liked to go on morning jogs a couple times a week. Hopefully we don't run into her.
"Oh, well. I suppose we should just clean out the rest of the flowers and have the whole thing re-bedded. What do you think, Harvey?"
I quickly turn back to my mother. "What do I think? Uh, sounds like a good idea!"
Mom stands up, folding her arms across her chest as she surveys the lawn.
"Right? I was thinking it was time for a revamp. How about orchids this time?" she suggests, propping one of her hands under her chin. "Actually, you know what I would love? Heliconias. They had the most gorgeous variety in Ucayali. But I'm afraid the weather here isn't quite warm enough to have them around..."
"Mom, I have no idea what half those flowers—"
"Harvey?"
Ah, great. Amanda Ramsey. My second worst nightmare has appeared.
I pull off the hood of my sweater, turning to Amanda with a smile. She smiles back.
"Ah, it is you. I almost didn't recognise you with your hood up," she says. Her gaze drifts from me to the person by my side, eyes widening. "Oh, and this must be your mother! You two look so much alike."
I glance over to my mother, who looks slightly overwhelmed to have a blonde, high-ponytailed stranger dressed in a neon blue running jacket and coordinating black tights come up to us to say hi.
"Hi, Mrs Ramsey," I greet. "Yes, this is my mom, Isla Mackler. Mom, this is Amanda — our new neighbour."
Realisation flashes in my mother's irises at this new piece of information.
She graciously accepts Amanda's outstretched hand, adopting a friendlier composure as she shakes it.
"Oh, yes. The Ramseys. It's lovely to finally meet you," Mom says. "I'm Isla, as my daughter has already said."
"Amanda," our neighbour beams. "I've heard wonderful things about you and your husband. I really apologise for not saying hello earlier. Our family were out all day yesterday, you see."
"Oh, no! That's alright," Mom quickly replies. "We only arrived yesterday evening ourselves."
"You know, I was just saying to Jeff the other day, that when you two returned, we must invite you all round for dinner. And by chance, you come home that same week!"
"That's so kind of you, but we couldn't possibly inconvenience you in such a way," Mom replies in an apologetic tone. "If anything, we should be the ones inviting you round to welcome you to the neighbourhood."
Amanda looks ready to protest when the front door to her house opens, catching all our attentions.
Finn's father appears on their front porch, dressed in a polo shirt and light brown slacks.
"Ames, so you are back," he says to his wife as he approaches us. "I was getting worried seeing as you were out longer than usual on your jog."
"I was just talking to the neighbours, honey," Amanda replies. "This is Isla Mackler, Hayden and Harvey's mother."
"Ah, I'm Geoffrey, or Jeff, if you prefer," Finn's father greets my mother with a jovial handshake. "Lovely to make your acquaintances."
Despite being next-door neighbours for nearly two months, I think this is the first time I've seen Geoffrey Ramsey up close. Unlike his wife's sliding accent which occasionally wavers in its Britishness, Jeff's accent is closer to what I've always imagined a strong English accent to sound like. As if he'd been picked straight off the streets of London.
"Jeff dear," Amanda pipes up, "I was in the middle of trying to convince the Macklers to join us for dinner."
"Oh you absolutely must come over," Jeff says, brimming with enthusiasm. "The sooner the better. Amanda's aunt, Gwendolyn, makes the most magnificent pies. Our daughter Leah loved them so much, the dear made us two more to take home — and we can't possibly finish them on our own. You should bring all your family round. We have plenty of space to accommodate you all. Tonight, even, if you can."
"Tonight would actually be perfect," Amanda agrees pensively, "considering your meeting tomorrow evening, Jeff, and my appointment with a client the following afternoon."
The pair turn to my mother with hopeful expressions, expectantly awaiting her response.
Mom turns to me to gauge my opinion.
"NO! MOTHER, NO! DON'T FALL FOR THEIR CHARMING BRITISH MANNERISMS! IT'S ALL A TRAP!"
...is what I would like to say while making big 'X' cross symbols with my arms.
Unfortunately, the Ramseys are four feet away from us, and would probably get offended if I actually did that, so I have to settle for a more subtle head-shake, pleading stare combo which I hope my mother understands to mean 'please don't make me'.
"You know what?" she says slowly, drawing her gaze away from me to face the Ramseys once again. "Sure, we'd love to. We'll be looking forward to tonight."
Sigh. Betrayed by my own mother.
><{{{(•>
Dinner with Finn's family tonight has ruined my plans for the rest of the day. There are less than twelve hours left of Prank Week, and I still need something that can turn the tides in my favour.
Thus, Hollis and I call an emergency meeting that same afternoon.
"It's a shame we don't have time to go through with this one," I sigh, flipping through the stack of flyers in my hand. "I'm still impressed you managed to get these photos of Hayden. I thought he'd destroyed all of them in existence."
Hollis entwines his fingers. "We can still go through with it, if you want. It won't take too long to put them up around the boardwalk."
My gaze lingers hesitantly on the poster in my hands. It featured a nearly four year old picture of Hayden in seventh grade. Brace-faced and brandishing his trumpet while decked in his wind band uniform. It's a photo from darker times, when Hayden was considerably much more dorkier than he is now. He'd cry at the sight. Beneath the photograph is an advertisement that reads:
TRUMPET PLAYER FOR HIRE!
Will perform at all occasions: weddings, birthday parties, bar mitzvahs and more!
To book, call this number here:
XXX-XXX-XXX
"Don't you think it's a bit much adding his real phone number?" I ask.
"You're at war, Harvey," Hollis tells me. "It's either go big or go home as a failure to your entire country."
Now that's a bit dramatic.
"No. It's alright. We don't need it," I decide. "We can always do it next year if need be. I was thinking something else. What about that food one you suggested?"
"The baking soda one you were supposed to do yesterday at dinnertime?"
"Yeah, that one. Mom will be watching Hayden and I like hawks. I don't think she believes we really gave up on Prank Week, so you'll have to set it up yourself. Think you can manage it?"
"Of course, Harvey. You can trust me," Hollis says confidently. "It's just a little explosion: a bit of baking soda, maybe add a firecracker or two, and boom — Hayden wouldn't know what hit him."
"Wait, what? You didn't mention any firecrackers before."
Hollis's expression turns blank, eyes widening innocently. "What? Did I say firecrackers?"
My eyebrows furrow. But seconds later, I'm interrupted by an alarm going off on my phone. Surf Lesson with Blondie - 10 minutes!
"Um, well. Anyway," I say distractedly, looking down to cancel the alarm, "I have to go now. I'll leave you to sort out the rest, Holl. I'm trusting you!"
Hollis waves goodbye while I hurry out the room.
Originally, I was going to think of an excuse to cancel my surf session with Finn today, but seeing as I'll be forced to interact with him this evening anyway, I thought it best to rip off the plaster in one go and just get the awkward part of our interaction over and done with.
Besides, how bad could it be?
><{{{(•>
"White Peak must be very different from what you're used to," my dad comments once Amanda returns from the kitchen with a large, leafy green salad bowl to add the spread on the Ramseys' dining table. "How are you finding the move so far?"
Amanda and Jeff look to each other questioningly.
"Well, different? Yes, but it's all been good, so far," Jeff replies. "We haven't really had any much trouble, have we, Amanda?"
"No, I don't think we have," Amanda replies. "Of course, adjusting may have been slightly easier for me, than you and the kids, but everyone's been lovely so far. Everybody has been so welcoming and inviting. Incredibly helpful too. It's made every day feel like a holiday."
"I'm glad to hear that," Mom replies with a warm smile. "And again, thank you for inviting us for dinner tonight. Everything looks wonderful already."
Amanda beams with pride as she expresses her thanks. She claps her hands together, eyes sweeping the table before settling pensively on the archway leading into the dining room. "Now, we're just waiting for Finn then we can start..."
I feel myself tense up at the sound of Finn's footsteps pattering down a flight of stairs, slipping into the dining room seconds after his mother's remark.
He says his greetings as Amanda introduces him to my parents, before taking a seat on the dining table in the chair between his mother and Hayden, and opposite me.
Contrary to Geoffrey Ramsey's claim from this morning, the Ramseys could by no means fit all of us on their dining table. The table is clearly intended for six people, with the option to add two extra chairs for a cosier squeeze. Their solution for the other three guests unable to fit on the table of eight, is a small round table situated to the side of the room, where Hollis, Leah and Harry are currently sat. Unofficially dubbed as the 'Kiddie Table', the look on Hollis and Leah's faces is enough to tell neither of them are happy with the situation.
As everybody settles down to eat, the conversation deviates to a different subject, however my attention remains on Finn. He is wearing his glasses today. Dark blue frames that complement the navy sweater and light blue jeans he has on. I knew he had glasses, but this is the first time I've actually seen him with them on. Along with his casual ensemble, it makes him look relaxed... cosy and inviting.
"You should try the stuffing," Hunter says from beside me. "They're sage and onion. It goes well with the roast chicken. I think you'll like it."
I snap to attention, nodding accordingly as Hunter passes me the plate of stuffing. At Hunter's comment, Finn glances up, making the briefest of eye contact with me before we both look away.
That was expected.
It was like this at our surf practice too. For once, Finn is more eager to avoid me than I am him, and so we spent most of our lesson in silence, with barely a word exchanged, using our upcoming family dinner as an excuse to forgo our usual review session at the end, and go back in early.
Choosing not to dwell on Finn any longer, I tune back into the main conversation. Amanda and Jeff are now asking my parents about their work.
"The project across Brazil and Peru is actually the first major work we've taken on in a while," Dad admits after explaining more about the documentary they were involved in. "Since our youngest, Harry, was born to be specific."
"We were so worried about leaving the kids at home," my mom continues, "but Harvey and Hayden are almost all grown up, so they're able to take care of themselves, and Hunter is quite sensible, so we decided to trust that he could manage things well in our absence."
"And it was an excellent decision on your part," Amanda gushes. "I can tell Hunter is very responsible. In fact, all your kids are quite delightful. They act so mature for their age, I was impressed. They've all been extremely warm and welcoming — especially to our Finn. You know, Harvey has been coaching him all summer on his surfing."
"Ah yes," Jeff sets down his cutlery to add, "surfing had been a hobby of his, but he has really advanced in such a short period of time. We're all pleased — though," he glances playfully to his son, "I'm not sure Coach McGregor would be quite as happy about your abandoning swimming."
Finn laughs nervously in response. "I wouldn't say I've abandoned swimming..." he mumbles under his breath.
Mom chuckles lightly. "Oh, yes, we've heard a little about the surf lessons," she says. "See, George? I said you didn't have to worry. Harvey got back into surfing all on her own."
It is my turn to laugh awkwardly. Dad frowns a little at my mother for outing his concern, and I don't have it in me to admit that I don't quite do the surfing myself in my and Finn's practices.
Thankfully, the conversation moves on to a different subject when Jeff recalls a book is to be published alongside my parents' documentary, entailing in more scientific detail about the animals and plants featured in the short series.
An hour passes in no time, and soon we're discussing dessert. The adults encourage us to take a break from eating to explore the house while they cleared the table and prepared for the final course, which will feature the infamous pies made by Finn's great-aunt.
Leah and Hollis are the first to get up, eager to leave the 'Kiddie Table', while Harry latches onto my mother, begging to stay with the adults instead.
The rest of us bumble out the room aimlessly, feeling displaced even after Amanda's vague instructions to her children to "entertain us".
After a few minutes of wandering around the bottom floor, debating on what to do, I reach out to Finn, gently tugging on his arm to get his attention.
"I need to talk to you," I say in a quiet voice so we aren't overhead by our siblings.
Finn looks surprised but he nods in agreement.
As Leah walks past us, Finn grabs on to her to say, "Hey, can you do me a favour? I need you to take over the 'entertaining'."
Leah narrows her eyes, sparing me a side-glance before replying to her brother, "Why should I? I'm not trusted enough to sit among the adults, so should you really trust me with that?"
Finn rolls his eyes. "Distract them for me, and I'll swap seats with you. Deal?"
"I—" Leah's eyebrows shoot up, as if surprised that Finn gave in so easily. "Deal."
"Great." In a louder voice, Finn announces, "Hey, guys. Uh, Harvey and I need to discuss surf stuff. We didn't get to do it earlier because of the dinner, so we're doing it now. We'll catch up with you guys later."
Hunters face twists in disbelief. "Surf stuff? What surf stu—"
"While they do that, I'll show you guys the bowling room," Leah declares, marching through my brothers so she is standing in front.
"Wait, you have a bowling room?" Hayden asks. "Finn, dude, why didn't you ever say?"
He promptly follows Leah down the hall, forcing Hunter and Hollis to do the same, fuelled by their curiosity to check out the room for themselves.
Before he departs, Hollis sends me a quick hand gesture — our signal to indicate that our prank is successfully underway. I send one back before turning to Finn.
"Wait, are you planning a prank with Hollis?" he says, brows furrowing. "I swear he did that hand signal with Hayden earlier... Never mind, it must be nothing. You looked like you wanted to say something."
"Do you really have a bowling room?"
Finn releases a half-chuckle. "No, she made that up. We do have bowling pins set up in the basement, so I'm guessing she'll be taking them there..."
If the Ramsey's home is anything like ours, the basement should be at the opposite side of the house. The furthest area from where we are.
"You said you needed to talk to me?" Finn prompts after we walk for a minute in silence.
"Oh right." I blink rapidly. I had in mind to talk out what happened in the Hole a few days ago with Finn so we can dispel this awkward air between us, but now that I'm given the opportunity with no interruptions, I suddenly feel too nervous to broach the subject.
"Surfing," I blurt out instead. "Your surfing today. I didn't get a chance to give you feedback, but it was... good."
Good.
Great adjective choice, Harvey. Definitely in the running for 'Best Surf Coach of the Year'.
Finn looks at me as if he is questioning the same thing, and so I feel compelled to elaborate.
"There isn't much I can fault for your level. You were great before but you've improved a lot. There's no way you aren't going to ace the semis next week."
Finn slows down until we come to a full stop.
Turning to face me, he says with earnest eyes, "Thanks, Harvey. Not just for the compliment, or the coaching, but for everything. When I asked you to help me improve my surfing, I didn't expect you to do this much. But all the support... I really appreciate it. Knowing you believe in me is one of my main motivations to keep going for this."
My cheeks feel hotter than before. I push a lock of hair behind my ear, looking to the ground.
"Well, uh. You're welcome, I guess," I reply. Taking a deep breath in, I look up to ask another question. "What about your nerves? How are you planning on dealing with them this time?"
Finn bites his lip, briefly looking away before saying, "Oh. I've got this pendant thing... got it a while ago. I actually had it while I surfed at the last competition. I tried focusing on it instead of other thoughts that made me doubt myself. I think it helped me focus more."
I nod slowly. "So like a lucky charm?"
"I guess you could say that," Finn replies, his lips quirking in a small smile.
I'm about to ask to see it, when I feel a light tap on my shoulder.
I turn around to meet Hollis, trying to suppress my annoyance at him as I ask, "What?"
"Everything is set up, but I need to be at the table to activate it unless it might not work," Hollis tells me.
My brows draw together. "What? Activate wha—?" I exhale. "You just want my seat, don't you? You know what? Whatever. Do what you need to do. We can swap seats."
"Yes." Hollis pumps his fist. "Okay, that's all."
He quickly hurries away in the direction of the dining room, and I realise it must soon be time for dessert. If we're going to be called back soon, then there's no more time for procrastinating. It's now or never.
"Finn," I say in a serious tone once we're alone again.
The air has gotten thicker, and I can tell Finn realises what I'm about to say must be the real subject of this 'talk'. He listens attentively.
"Finn..." I repeat tentatively. "About that day... Two days ago. When you said... y'know."
"That I feel like kissing you all the time?"
I nearly choke at his bluntness.
Clearing my throat, I reply, "Yeah, well. Yes. That."
Finn takes a step closer. "I meant every word I said. I'm tired of acting indifferent around you, Harvey."
Taking off his glasses, he rubs the space between his brows, pushing his hand through his hair before he locks his gaze back on me, his eyes now a stormy greyish shade of blue.
"I like you, Harvey. I like you when you're comfortable in your skin. I'd like you even if you were dressed in tracksuits 24/7, and hadn't washed your hair in three weeks. Yeah, you looked gorgeous that night and all I could do was stare like an idiot, but that's not why I wanted to kiss you. I like you, and I know you don't like it, and you get all panicked because it freaks you out, but it's the truth."
Finn is close. And his words make my heart race, but I can't help taking a step closer.
"Why are you so sure me panicking is a bad thing?" I ask.
Finn's intense gaze turns inquisitive. He cocks his head to the side, as if evaluating everything that's happened between us these past weeks.
"It's not?"
Finn dips his head down so we're almost eye level, irises boring straight into me. My heart skips a beat. I start to falter.
"Um, well, I'm not saying it's a good thing, but—" I try to distance my face from Finn's, "you never know. Maybe, hypothetically, it's because these feelings are new and unexpected and—"
The rest of my confession is interrupted by a loud boom coming from the dining room.
The two of us pull apart, sharing looks of alarm.
Finn leads the way to the dining room and I promptly follow, hurrying past him when we reach the doorway.
I freeze.
Everyone else must have returned before Finn and I did. They are all sat around the long rectangular table, with Leah in Finn's original spot while Hollis is in mine. No one notices us immediately. They all seem to be in shock.
The table, their clothes and their faces are covered in a white, frothy layer of freshly whipped cream with small chunks of pie crust stuck to their skin, all originating from the large, sunken homemade pie in the centre of the table.
The blast range from the pie exploding extends beyond the once pristine dining table, with flecks reaching as far as the walls and the floor. I look up just as a chunk of pie that had gotten wedged onto the ceiling drops back onto the table with a dim plop. I feel sick.
The first question I want to ask is:
How?
But the mildly panicked, half-surprised look on Hollis's face explains it all. He shrugs apologetically in my direction, as if to say, 'what can you do?'.
The second question I feel like asking is:
How am I going to survive to see the light of day?
The answer to that is also quite simple. The withering look my mother sends Hayden, then me is enough of an answer:
I won't.
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
A/N:
Moral of the story: don't make deals with Hollis. It won't end well.
Anyways, so hey guys. Sorry for the delay in updating. I finished writing about half of this chapter ten days ago, on the 3rd/4th, but the dinner scene was really difficult to envision because of how much needed to happen. Not to mention trying not to do a big info dump about extra things I know about characters but you guys wouldn't because it would be random for Harvey to casually mention/think about them in other contexts (e.g. her parents' jobs, Finn's family etc).
(Why I plan my books out this way, I will never understand.)
But speaking of the dinner scene, what are your thoughts about all that went down?
What do you think of Harvey and Finn's 'surf stuff' talk in between? 👀
Things are going to start getting unnecessarily dramatic from next chapter, so brace yourselves boyos!
♕ Carmen ♕