Page 12 of Leaning In

Oh shit.

“Yes!” Josh pumps a fist into the air.

A collective groan rises from the rest of the table.

“You were catastrophically bad at the music round last time,” Kath reminds him.

“I was robbed.”

“You thought ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ was by Bon Jovi,” I tell him gently.

“In my defence, it feels like a Bon Jovi song.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

I feel Claire’s shoulder shaking next to me, and turn my head. She’s biting her lip trying her hardest not to laugh. Catching my eye briefly, her smile widens before she looks away, still grinning. Claire’s always had a great laugh. It arrives in stages. First the shoulders, then the grin, then she completely loses the battle. This time she manages to contain the out loud part.

The quizmaster clears his throat. “Question one. Which artist released the 2011 album 21?”

“Ed Sheeran,” Josh says instantly.

“It’s Adele,” Claire and Kath correct at the same time.

He frowns. “Are you sure? That name is very Ed Sheeran energy, he loves maths stuff for albums.”

“No,” Claire tells him. “She names the albums after her age, it’s her whole thing.”

“I still think it’s Ed Sheeran,” Josh argues.

Kath writes down Adele, and we end with a handful of points, though whether that’s because of Josh or despite him remains a matter of debate. Fortunately, the next round is the Olympics. Sam sits up straighter.

“Thank god.” He reaches for the answer sheet. “A topic designed specifically for me.”

“Oi.” Kath pulls it back. “I’m the scribe. Note-taking is my special skill.”

Sam surrenders the list back to her, and proceeds to answer every question nearly as soon as the quizmaster has finished speaking. I sit back, content to let him take the lead.

The pub grows steadily louder as the evening goes on. Empty glasses multiply across the tables, and I get us some chips to share. They’re demolished in minutes, and Claire promptly stands to buy more.

By the time the scores for the first four rounds are announced, we’re sitting comfortably in the middle of the pack.

“Well,” Kath says, sounding surprised. “We’re not last.”

“Yet,” Sam says.

She grins at him. “Thank you for that optimism.”

The next round appears on the screen behind the quizmaster.

History. I rub my hands together.

“Ok,” Claire says to me. “Don’t go too hard on them. Remember that not everyone knows the year every monarch died. But I’m very impressed you do.”

“I’m not sure if you’re being sarcastic.”

“Definitely not sarcastic. Every group needs at least one hot nerd.”

“Hot nerd?” I turn to her. She’s watching the quizmaster fiddle with the microphone, but a smirk is playing on her lips.