The entourage flooded the foyer and spilled into the living room. The sound level instantly doubled.
This was unexpected. Now there were two guys and a whole lot of girls. Even worse, there were two guys and a whole lot of PTs.
Another minivan pulled up. At first I thought it might’ve been the C team players, but as soon as they emerged into the porch light, it was clear these were Future Science Revolutionaries. They were loaded down with all kinds of strange contraptions.
“Potato gun,” one said, and grinned at me as they pushed into the house. “I wonder where the kitchen is,” I heard another say as they angled into the living room.
I followed quickly.
17
Turns out, Foster threw a pretty good party. It was like watching him kick that first day in gym—strange and disconcerting. He schmoozed with the varsity guys. He joked with the PTs. He held court in the living room with Jordan Hunter. But all in his own Fosterlike way.
I didn’t mind being the host. I refilled the ice trays and reloaded the paper plates and got drinks for people, and there was something oddly gratifying about it.
As the party progressed, I couldn’t help but keep an eye on Ezra. It was his proximity to Marabelle that was particularly intriguing; not so much physical proximity—though they both shared the couch with Foster and Jordan—but there was a familiarity between them that I hadn’t seen between Ezra and anyone else, even Foster.
“Do you think it’s going good?” Foster asked while I was in the kitchen depositing more French onion dip into an already-twice-depleted bowl.
“I think it’s going great.”
“We’re going to have a Rock Band competition in a little. You should play.”
“Maybe.”
Foster headed off with the dip and I set about refilling some bowls of chips until there was a rustle behind me.
“Hi.” It was Ezra.
“Hey.” A pause. “Uh … do you need a drink or something?”
“Some juice would be cool, if you have it.”
I set about wedging a couple of cans of fruit punch out of the overstuffed fridge.
“So, um … have you and Marabelle known each other long?” Subtle, Devon. Super subtle.
“A little while.”
I nodded, and a terrible thought struck me for the first time, one that I couldn’t suppress.
When I looked up next, his eyes were on me. “What is it?”
My face grew redder by the second. “I was just wondering … I mean … you couldn’t be—I mean, you’re not…” I gulped. “Are you?”
Ezra just looked at me. “Baby’s father? No.”
Silence. I was inside out with embarrassment.
“She’s my sister,” he said.
“What?”
A shrug. “Stepsister, really.”
I was in disbelief. And believe me, I can’t convey pretty disbelief. I’m sure I was all bulging eyes and gaping mouth. “I … I had no idea.”
He nodded.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known this before. I had known Marabelle for a while now, but never gleaned any connection between her and Ezra. I quickly scanned back through recent encounters with Marabelle, hoping I hadn’t said anything dumb about Ezra to her.
“So, uh … who married who?”
“My mom, her dad.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“I don’t have one.”
“So you came from, like, a sperm bank or something?” Ugh. I lacked a filter sometimes.
“No, I just—”
“I get it. Sorry. That was stupid.”
Ezra just looked at me.
“Hey, Dev!” And then Cas appeared in the doorway. I turned, and he strolled into the kitchen and gave me this huge hug. I was still holding Ezra’s drinks, almost too surprised to hug back.
“How’s it going?” I managed.
“Good.” Cas kept an arm around me as he turned to Ezra. “Hey, man.” He extended a hand. Ezra looked at it for a moment and then shook it, his face expressionless. A brief, yet incredibly awkward, silence followed.
Cas broke it. “Sorry I’m late, Dev. I couldn’t get off work any sooner.”