Junior Year Box Set

Mom and Dad ordered appetizers for our section of the restaurant while I walked around and talked to everyone and their parents. I was surprised when Phil joined me. When we were between tables, he asked me why I did this.

“My dad, well, I should say our dad, had Greg and I learn to talk to everyone in the room. He said that someday it would pay off in unexpected ways. It helps his business, and he also gets support when he works with the Booster Club. I’ve thought about it, and I would guess it all started with our grandad, and him being a politician,” I said and looked at the next table.

“Oh, shit,” I said under my breath.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Seated at several tables that had been pulled together were all the ladies in my life and their parents. While the girls knew I dated others, I wasn’t sure if the parents were aware. Added to the mix were Tracy, Tom and Mary Dole, and Cassidy.

“I hope you’re all on your best behavior because you’re all in the presence of a star,” I said.

“Oh, my. What’s he done now to make his ego even bigger?” Ava Davis, Brook’s mom, asked.

I just winked at her and then turned to Rita James, who gave me a hard look.

“Who’s this you have tagging along?” Rita asked, to stop me from embarrassing her.

I made a decision that I hoped my family would be okay with.

“This is Phil Prince, my half brother.”

“How did that happen?” Mrs. Pearson asked.

“I think if you do the math, and think about how babies are made, it might come to you,” I suggested.

“Oh. OH! Sorry, that was impolite of me,” she said.

“Actually, we just found out, and I couldn’t be happier to have a little brother. I might have to train him to let him out in public, but he hasn’t embarrassed me yet today.”

“Just give him some time, and he’ll do just that,” Zoe said, and then blushed when she realized she was sitting next to her dad. “But they can be such a blessing.”

“We’re talking about Rockefeller?” Phil asked, and Zoe nodded.

Phil made a funny, snorting noise that made us all laugh. Poor Roc wasn’t here to defend himself.

“Do you know something I should know?” Mrs. Pearson asked Phil.

He got a worried expression on his face.

“You opened your big mouth. You might want to tell them something about your friend,” I encouraged.

Phil turned out to be not as gullible as I’d been at his age.

“I’m not telling any stories. You should tell me one about your family,” Phil said.

I thought about it for a moment.

“I can tell you one later,” I said.

“Oh no, you don’t. Pull up a chair and tell us your story,” Cassidy ordered.

My eyebrows raised up, and Phil and I found chairs.

“Okay, I have three stories: Dead Hog in the Road, Rampaging Deer, or Road Trip. Which do you want to hear?” I asked.

“Dead Hog in the Road,” Phil said.

Everyone seemed fine with his choice, so I began to tell my story.

“My cousins live in Florida. When I was eleven, we made a road trip to go visit them. Dad had this bright idea to borrow my uncle’s pop-up camper so we could save money. As a kid, that was great because I love camping. My mom, on the other hand, was less than thrilled to be stuck in a car with two boys, and then trapped in a tiny camper. Her words; and if you don’t believe me, go ask her about the horrors of having two boys that age. She can go on for hours,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

“I can only imagine,” Mrs. Pearson said.

The more I was around her, the more I liked her.

“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, the dead hog. On the second day of our trip, my dad got the idea that it would be more scenic to drive along the old state roads instead of the interstate. Personally, I think he was delaying our arrival. I love my Uncle Jim, but I think he loves himself more. That was another reason for the camper: my dad needed a place to get away from my uncle’s house. Greg and I would play with our cousins, so we didn’t have to deal with him as much.”

“You’re getting off track again,” Cassidy said.

“Oh, sorry. Anyway, we got off the interstate and drove through south Georgia. Greg and Mom were in the back, sleeping, so Dad put me in charge of navigating. A sign on the roadside promised the best pecan pie in the state. It was almost lunchtime, so I figured that sounded good,” I said.

“When he said pecan pie and lunch, he meant that was what he planned to have for lunch,” Tracy said.

I smiled and nodded.

“Stop right there. We don’t need to hear about pecan pies for the next half hour,” Cassidy warned.

“We can talk about the virtues of a good pecan pie later. Did you ever try one with an oatmeal crust?” I asked.

“David,” Cassidy said.

“They need to know that, if they want to make me a pie, I’d prefer pecan,” I said, and then returned to the story. “So, I directed my dad to turn off onto a country road that led to the small town with the diner where they had my favorite pie.”

I wanted to be sure that they knew what kind of pie I liked.