Page 12 of Tell Me It’s Right

The kitchen table is hardly big enough for six, but Leo brought in a few of the chairs from the deck so we could all squeeze around it. Dad pushes the plate across the jam-packed table, and Mom fusses with it until it’s directly at my side even though I’ve already polished off my plate and am too full for comfort.

Mom is practically vibrating in the seat next to me. She’s already said some variation ofWe’re so glad you’re home!three times, and I think it’s physically paining her to hold back from saying it again.

“Well, if we’re all finished…” Dad rises from his chair, removes his Giants hat, and reaches over to place it on Liam’s head.

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “After we just ate all that food?”

Dad shrugs and points at Liam. “‘Rematch anytime, anywhere’—I believe those were your words.”

“I’d hate for you to throw your back out or something,” says Liam. “You know, now that you’re in your old age.”

I shake my head as the two of them exchange unhinged grins and head for the rug in the living room. Leo jumps up to scoot the couch back to give them some extra space. The age-old Collins tradition of passing that ratty old hat to challenge someone to a leg wrestling match. I should’ve seen this coming the moment he walked in the door with it on.

I turn to Mom. “You’re not going to try to stop them?”

She shrugs and hops up to get a better view. “I kind of want to see him get his ass kicked, don’t you?”

“Let’s go, Dad!” cheers Leo as the rest of us crowd around to watch.

Liam gives him a disbelieving look as he and Dad lie down, their hips beside each other but facing opposite ways. They each lift the leg closest to the other and tap it to the ground alongside thethree, two, onecountdown. Atone, they hook their legs at the knee, and I hold my breath, waiting to see who will move first.

Dad lets out a guttural yell, his complexation turning red beneath his salt-and-pepper stubble, and slowly, he pulls Liam closer until he flips all the way over, the hat falling from his head in the process.

Keava lets out a whoop behind me.

Dad looks seconds away from pounding his fists against his chest as he grins and spreads his arms wide. “Who’s next?”

Liam sighs as he gets up and leans against the couch beside me.

“You’re going down, old man,” says Leo.

“The age cracks are the best you all can do?” says Dad. “Really?”

I glance at Liam sideways as the next countdown begins. “You let him win,” I murmur.

His lips twitch, but he keeps his attention on the stalemate currently happening in the middle of the floor. “Was it that obvious?”

Finally, Dad’s the one to flip.

“Sorry to break your winning streak of…what was it? One?” says Leo.

“Come on, honey.” Mom helps him up and pats him comfortingly on the back.

“Gracie!” Leo tosses me the Giants hat, then points at the ground next to him.

Liam takes the hat, props it on my head, and gives it a nice pat. “Give him hell.”

I sigh, adjust the hat so it’s not covering my eyes, and join him on the floor.

“And now, the reigning champ returns,” Dad announces into his cupped hands.

I smirk as Leo and I raise our legs. At the end of the countdown, we hook, and it takes about a second until I have him flipped. You’d think he’d learn after all these years. He’s always too slow. By the time I feel his resistance kick in, I already have the momentum in my favor.

“That must be a new record,” Liam mutters.

“How?How?” Leo flops onto his back and lets his arms and legs splay out around him. “Your legs are half the size of mine.”

I shrug and hold the hat up. “Mom? Keava?”

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