Page 45 of Reel Love

“You don’t need to. Your father and I have done that for you. We traveled before we had kids and found the best place of all here on the island.” Mom’s voice has a note of finality to it, even though sheknows Dustin is not going to be swayed—or at least, I think she knows.

She’s being unreasonable, grasping at straws. We all know it. I can’t blame her. This is a bomb dropped and detonated. I’ve never lived further than ten miles from my brother. Sure, he leaves to volunteer on fires or to play the occasional off-island gig. I have to leave a few days a week to assess something underwater. But we always come back here—to Marbella—back home.

Mom dabs her eyes with one of the paper napkins Mitzi brought from the restaurant. Mitzi and Dad immediately flank Mom.

“It’s just a lot to swallow,” Mom sniffles. “I know I’m being delulu thinking you’d all be here with me and Dad forever. I’m just full of beige flags.”

“Delulu?” Dustin asks.

At least I’m not the only one who needs a translator for Mom’s hip lingo.

She scoffs. “Delusional.”

And … dare I ask? I have to, though. “And beige flags?”

“They’re between green and red,” Mitzi explains.

“Huh?” Dad asks.

“It applies when you’re thinking about dating someone,” Mitzi tells us. “There’s green flags. Red flags. Beige flags. The beige flags aren’t green or red.”

“Why mention them then?” I ask.

Mitzi shakes her head like I’m hopeless. No one points out how Mom totally misused the term and I’m surely not about to—not after Dustin dropped the news he did. I am going to have to talk with him. I would have liked a heads up. I wonder if Mitzi already knew. Nope. I don’t even have to ask. I’m sure she knew. She didn’t even flinch when Mom brought it up. I’m almost always the last person in the family to know about things like this.

One person comes to mind. It should bother or surprise me. But it doesn’t.

I can’t wait to chat with SaturdayIslandGirl about this new development in my family.

FOURTEEN

Alana

Don't grow up too quickly,

lest you forget how much you love the beach.

~ Michelle Held

Aweek of being back on Marbella since our day spent shopping on Rodeo has been nearly utopian. Mother called the day after we were hounded by the paparazzi to rave about the publicity stunt she orchestrated. The media gobbled the story up like seagulls at a spilled trash can. Now, as far as the public’s concerned, Rex and I are either getting back together, actually already engaged, or his body was taken over by an alien and I’m carrying his alien love child.

Gotta love the tabloids.

I put all that out of my mind since my mother’s call and have spent my days doing yoga, gardening my flower beds, reading, and playing on the online game. Wordivore hasn’t been on in person for three days, and I weirdly miss him.

I just finished swimming laps and I’m curled on my bed in my fluffy robe.

I pull up the app on my phone.

Wordivore’s profile says,Online.

I open a board and my tiles spill into place at the bottom of my screen. Then I hitInvite.

Wordivore shows up. I’m studying my tiles when he types a sentence in the chat.

Remember how I told you my siblings and I are close?

Usually we open with some taunt about the game, or another more neutral comment. I’m not averse to him making conversation. A part of me actually likes the fact that he feels comfortable to open with something this personal. And, I’ll admit it, I’m intrigued as to what he’s going to say.

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