Page 46 of On His Schedule
“Pong. You and me. Walsh and Carlson.”
“Stan, I—”
“We’re going now.”
He pulls me to the dining room. The table is already set. We take the end nearest the keg, which means we are taking shots directly under our own poster. Stanley hasn’t looked up at the poster again since he came back downstairs.
“Walsh. Are you ready to lose?” Stan barks.
Walsh nods. “You ready to be embarrassed in front of your captain.”
“The captainismy partner, Walsh. I cannot be embarrassed in front of him because if I lose, then so does he.” He turns to me and puts his beer up. “Cheers, cap.”
I throw first and sink it. It was effortless. I’ve been throwing into red Solo cups since I was sixteen, and at this point, my hand-eye coordination does this without me even trying. Stanley throws his. He sinks his. We are up two, no shots taken, and Walsh and Carlson are already looking at each other. Stanley grabs a beer off the windowsill behind us, takes a sip, and sets it back down.
I sink my second and my third.
Stanley, mid-toss, “You arecarryingme, Reeve, this is humiliating, slow down—”
He sinks his. We are up three. Walsh sinks one. Stanley drinks. Carlson misses. Walsh misses. I throw. Stanley throws. We are up five. Stanley reaches for the windowsill. He stops.
“Where’s my beer?”
“What?” Walsh says.
“My beer. Where’s my beer? I literally just set it there.”
“Maybe you drank it.”
“I did not drink it. I had three sips.”
He scans the room. Across the dining room, leaning against the door frame to the kitchen, is Percy. He is holding a Solo cup. He sips out of it, slowly, looking at Stanley. He raises the cup an inch.
“Deveroux.”
Percy says, “Je ne sais pas de quoi tu parles.”
“I don’t speak French, but I don’t like your tone.”
Blue is leaning against the wall near the keg with his shoulders shaking. Walsh is holding the table to keep himself upright. Carlson has fully sat down on the floor.
“Reeve.”
“Yeah.”
“How long has Percy been stealing my beers?”
I line up my next shot and shrug. “Blue, get this kid some water.”
“Water?”
Blue walks over and hands him a beer.
“Thanks, man.” Stanley takes a sip and curls his top lip in his mouth. He looks at the bottle. “Is this watered-down beer?”
“Pace yourself, bro,” Blue says.
“That’s genius, Blue. Might mean he won’t be hurling all night.”
