Page 21 of Playing Games

“Blake Boden is going to MKC this year?” I ask, but my question goes completely ignored.

Apparently, Blake forgot to mention this little detail during our Mavericks discussion last Saturday night. And despite the fact that Mavs Kids Camp is planned almost a year in advance, he somehow managed to get a green light from the media team.

“That kid sure is talented,” Uncle Jude remarks, scooping mac and cheese onto his plate. “Tell me he’s on your draft short list.”

“I know his stats,” my stepdad replies, a dry laugh rumbling through his chest.

“Oh yeah, baby. The next Quinn Bailey incoming,” Uncle Ty crows, high-fiving Jude as I edge closer, pretending I’m just trying to grab a hot dog.

“He’s good,” Uncle Flynn cuts in, his tone unusually skeptical. “But calling him the next QB is a stretch, don’t you think?”

“His college stats are technically better than Quinn’s,” I chime in, feeling strangely defensive. Blake’s recordisbetter than Quinn’s, but I havenoidea what drove my need to say something about it.

Thankfully, no one thinks anything of it. Spouting facts and figures is nothing outside of the norm for me.

“See.” Uncle Ty grins. “Next Quinn Bailey, I’m telling you.”

My stepdad just laughs. “We’ll start with this week’s camp and go from there.” He turns to me with a smile he reserves for the people he loves most. “You’re still helping, right, Lexi Lou?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. Let me know if I can do anything to help you with the highlight reels. You should have most of the footage—”

“I’m good, Dad. I had them ready months ago.”

Uncle Ty guffaws, and Uncle Jude laughs as my stepdad’s face turns into a combination of amused and contrite. “Right. Of course you did.”

The group of them splits off, coming to the end of the buffet line and joining their wives in every available nook and cranny on the deck. The cousins and pseudo-aunts and uncles have all gathered back down on the dock, plates in their laps as they scream and tease and taunt one another with full mouths. I glance inside the house, to where Finn’s propped Scottie on the couch in the living room to wait for her plate. I consider whether I want to join them but ultimately settle on a moment of solitude.

Big crowds are still overstimulating for me, even when they’re all people I know and love, so a moment with nothing but my phone and my food won’t go unappreciated.

Hopping up onto the brick retaining wall in the side yard, I set my plate down beside my thigh and scroll through my running apps. The first is related to my dissertation, and the second to my weird—and probably a little creepy—experimental research and findings on Blake Boden. I input the new information from Finn and Scottie about Blake’s tendencies as a friend, alongwith his volunteer position for MKC, and then let the app run its conclusions. AI kicks out a ninety-five percent that life with Blake Boden in it is better than life with Blake Boden out of it, and I let out a heavy sigh.

Sometimes, I frighten even myself with the lengths I’m willing to take science.

I grab my hot dog and take a bite, moving to YouTube briefly to break up the monotony. I push play on a video from the PBS Space Time channel called “The Secrets of Quantum Thermodynamics.” But before it can dive all the way into the fundamental principles of thermodynamics and their connection to quantum mechanics, I’m interrupted by the buzz of a message banner as it pops up at the top of my screen.

Unknown: Hey, Lexi. How’s your weekend at the lake with family going?

Me: Who is this?

Unknown: Oh, you know…just the perpetual thorn in your side.

No longer confused, I frown and type out another message. It seems, today, Blake Boden iseverywhereI turn.

Me: How did you get my number? And how do you know where I am? Don’t tell me you’re in the bushes.

Unknown: I have my ways. You’re not the only resourceful one, you know. PS: I’m not in the bushes.

Me: I thought you were focusing on building trust…?

Unknown: Can’t build anything without making contact, and you’ve been avoiding me.

Me: I haven’t been avoiding you. We just haven’t crossed paths.

Unknown: That’s because I haven’t seen you going into the lab at all this week.

Me: Stalk much?

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