A Few Weeks Ago

“I know what to call them!” Jonah suddenly cries, springing up from his cross-legged perch on my floor and dropping a card from the game we’d played earlier. He’d been staring at it for nearly an hour. His brown hair flopped into his eyes and he didn’t even notice it. Or just didn’t care. It was probably the latter.

I jump at the sudden noise, almost dropping my phone on my face. Before I can ask, “What is wrong with you, Jonah?” a groan rises from the very sleepy–and very grumpy–redhead sprawled across my bed. “What the f are you even talking about anymore, J?” Alex muttered, tossing his freckled arm away from his face and sitting up, blinking the sleep out of those green eyes–the ones he always claims are a ‘sign of luck’.

Pack completely ignores Jonah’s exclamation, sliding a red draw two on the playing pile while Laila’s distracted. He waits a moment for her to play, before running a hand through his black hair and snapping his fingers at Laila, “Pay attention. You’re losing.”

Laila’s eyes dart back to him from their lingering place on Jonah, “What? No. I’m winn- You jerk!” She throws down an uno reverse card on his draw two.

Pack flicks it back at her, “That’s not how Uno works.”

“House rules.”

“House rul-” Pack exhales sharply in exasperation. “No. We’re at Kae’s house. Your house rules don’t apply here.” I roll my eyes at their bickering. Pack, forever labeled the level headed one, somehow always seems to lose his cool with Laila. He barely reacts if anyone else ignores him. But if it’s Laila? He acts like he’s twelve again–and losing dodgeball in PE.

“Guys! Focus on me please!” Jonah practically screeched, waving around a piece of paper. He reminded me of a teacher trying to get control of their classroom.

“Jonah, we are focused on you,” I say, grabbing his wrist before he knocks over my lamp. I pry the paper from his fingers. “What is it?”

“Them too!” He gestures wildly at the others. “They need to focus on this very, super important thing I’m about to reveal.” Jonah clearly feels very strongly about this. So strongly in fact that I’m starting to doubt my assumption that this is just another one of his jokes.

The lights flicker for a second. I ignore it. That happens a lot in this rickety old house.

Alex, apparently tired of the noise and deciding to do something for once, stands up, walks over and drops down right on top of their messily stacked card pile.

“What are you-” Laila starts. Alex flicks her forehead, sending strands of her dark hair out of its perfect styling.

“Pay attention to Jonah’s announcement so I can go back to resting my eyes.”

“Resting your eyes?” Pack scoffs. “You mean napping? Like you’ve been doing for the past hour?” I laugh at Pack’s comment. I’ve been trying to be the responsible, commanding host–since this hangout was at my house–but so far I was mostly failing. We’d gotten here right after my parents left. Again. They’d barely said goodbye before disappearing for the umpteenth time to do who knows what. They did that a lot. The big house seemed so quiet when it was just me and Eli. We raided the pantry first, obviously, and then looted the board game cabinets downstairs.

That’s when I’d gotten a text from my brother, Elliott.

He’d asked what my plans were for that night. I’d told him that I had friends over and to stay out of the basement or my room.

Elliott’s sixteen. A year and a half younger than me, which is insane considering how much he acts like the older sibling. He’s taller, louder, somehow more responsible at the times when he shouldn’t be. Everyone always assumes he’s older. Even though we only share one parent, we look alike enough to pass as twins–same blonde hair, same gray eyes, the same stupidly pale skin, it was freaky.

Jonah clears his throat dramatically. Again. “As I was saying…”

We all look at him, waiting for him to be done with the dramatics. He lets the silence stretch for way too long. I sigh, speaking up before anyone gets annoyed. “Yes? You were saying?” I suddenly find that if I look closely, Jonah looks way too smug and triumphant all of a sudden. “Yes?” I repeat, groaning.

Jonah picks up the card from that game we played earlier–”Trivia for Silly Teens” or something equally stupidly named–and tosses it at Laila. She has to catch it out of the air because, who ever said throwing paper thin cards was a smart idea? “Are you kidding me? You’ve spent the past, like, hour trying to answer this card?!”

Laila flashes the card towards everyone else and I blanch. “That?” I snort. I can’t help it. Laila’s reaction, the tension that Jonah had made so perfectly, and that card? It was hysterical. ”You chose the card with the question, ‘If zombies were real, what would your name for them be?’ That’s such a stupid question!” I can’t stop laughing, and it seems like it’s infectious too because I’m pretty sure I hear Alex muffle a snort and even Laila starts giggling.

I had closed my eyes during my first fit of laughter, so when I open them I don’t even try to muffle the second one at the expressions on Jonah and Pack’s faces.

“You guys are all idiots.” Jonah says, but it’s drowned out by our laughter. Pack–who I sometimes think doesn’t even know how to laugh–cracks a smile.

“J, why don’t you just tell us what your answer for the question would’ve been and then we can stop their terrible racket.” Pack says it seriously, but if I squint hard enough, I can almost hear the humor in his voice. A miracle.

Jonah huffs, snatching the card back from Laila like she’s personally offended him. “Fine. Since none of you appreciate genius-”

“We don’t,” Alex agrees flatly.

Jonah ignores him. “Since none of you appreciate genius,” he repeats, glaring at us. “I’ll tell you my answer. And then you guys can laugh it off.”

I finally stopped laughing, gasping for breath. “Ok. I’m ready,” I look at Laila who’s stifling her laughs still, “Laila’s ready, Alex is…” I glance around. Jonah is on the rug in the corner. Laila and Pack are across the room on the floor, still surrounding their Uno game. But Alex is gone. “Um… not here?” His spot on the bed where he’d been ‘resting his eyes’ earlier is empty, and the space next to Pack and Laila was also empty.

“I think he went to the bathroom.” Laila supplies helpfully. “Not the point anyway. We’re ready for your grand reveal, Mister Drama Queen.”

“Well good thing for you Miss. Hernandez,” he drags out the z sound and purposefully pronounces the h, “I am ready to share the name that’s better than zombies.”

Of course, that’s the exact moment when our crappy power goes out. It’s chaos for a solid 5 seconds–shouting, scuffling, someone knocking over cards; Laila screams, grabbing onto someone–who I assume is Pack from the strangled noise that comes that direction; and Jonah groans loudly, “Kae. Why is your electricity so crappy?”

At the complaint I throw a marble at him, missing horrendously. He even has the audacity to laugh at me for missing.

The lights came back on, accompanied by the flick of a switch. I have just enough time to register the hilarious scene of Laila hugging Pack–who isn’t a hugger in the laxest definition of the word–before I see Jonah throwing my marble behind me. Someone catches it and then throws it again. It hits my arm, “oww.” I complain, looking over my shoulder towards the door. Alex stands there, looking sheepish about hitting me with the marble, but also grinning because–of course–he’s the one who turned out the lights.

My phone buzzes, but I’m too busy lining up a retaliation shot with the marble to check it. I throw the marble at Alex. He catches it. “Jerk.” I scoff, shaking my head. I grab my phone. I unlock it with my face and open my messages.

Sheesh. I have five missed texts from Elliott. I open the chat, ready for a reel, a meme, some funny post. Maybe a random location pin–he does that sometimes–or a question about which friends are hanging out at the house. Instead, the first text is just three words: “Pack a bag.”

What? I think, incredulous. He never sends things like this. I read the other four texts: “Now.” “We need to leave the city.” “Kaelie! Please respond!” “Turn on the news at least if you won’t listen to me. Please Kae”

“What the hell…?” The words come out quieter than I mean them to. Talking to myself catches the attention of Pack.

“What’s up, Bait?” he asks, turning towards me in the middle of his conversation with Laila. She glares at him, then me, then looks at me with concern. I don’t even register his use of the nickname I hate so much.

We’d been on a fishing trip once and no one caught anything but me. Laila shoved me into the lake out of spite. The fish swarmed me–apparently I taste good. After that, I was Bait.

I hand my phone to Pack. As he reads it, Laila looks over his shoulder. His brow creases as he scans the words, his jaw clenching. “Elliott sent this?” he asks.

I don’t know why my brother would send me something like this. Sometimes he gets overexcited over some apocalypse prepper video and sends me a reel or tells me to pack a “bug-out-bag.” But he’s never been this… serious before.

Alex and Jonah have been arguing about the right way to throw a baseball. Alex glances over, pauses, then nudges Jonah. Jonah calls out from across the room–way too loudly for the small space. “Hey asses, what’s with the long face?”

He thinks he’s so funny… but no one laughs. There isn’t even a reaction. Just Alex rolling his eyes.

Pack tosses my phone. “Hey-!” I try grabbing it but it’s already in the air. “Richard Packerson.” I frown.

He turns on me, scowling. “What have I told you about calling me-” Laila cuts in while Jonah and Alex read my texts. I don’t even notice how Jonah’s grin disappears. “Hey Dick, be nice to Kae. We’re in her house after all.” She’s grinning, looking at Pack’s fuming face. But no one corrects her.

Jonah’s voice is quiet, but it cuts across the room. “Is this a joke?” he asks softly. He doesn’t even look up from the phone as he asks it.