Page 49 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Well… what is it?”
“Oslo.”
I have no idea if he’s correct or not.
“Did I pass?” He winks confidently, so I assume he’s right.
“Yes.”
“Do you always run an aptitude test for potential partners?”
I snatch up the game sheet, tap it on the tabletop, and then set it down again. “The stakes are high, so yes.”
“What are the stakes?”
“That.” I nod toward the gold plastic ship-replica trophy sitting on top of the piano beside the host. “I want it.”
“Whyyy?”
“Because it’s the prize for winning.”
“You do realize you can buy one in the gift shop, right?”
“You can’t. Not gold ones.” I rub my hands together greedily. “Plus, we get bragging rights.”
“For winning trivia?”
“Yes. Don’t you want to win?”
“Honestly, I don’t care. It’s supposed to be about having fun.”
“Exactly! We’ll have more fun if we win, so pay attention.” I collect the pencil, ready to write a team name on the sheet of paper, when I pause.
“So what are we calling ourselves?” he asks.
“I-I don’t know. The Unfortunates?”
Riley chuckles. “Nah. Too negative.”
“What do you suggest then, smarty-pants?”
“How ’bout R‘n’R?”
“Rest and relaxation?” I scrunch my nose—his team name is awful.
Riley bends his elbow, supporting his head with his hand, his fingers partially covering his eyes. “No. Not rest and relaxation. Who in their right mind would call themselves that?”
“No one!”
“Exactly.”
“Do you mean Rock ‘n’ Roll? Because that’s not too bad, I guess.”
“No.” He belly-laughs. “Riley ‘n’ Riley.”
“Ohhh!” I bite my lip, suppressing my idiocy, then jot the name down and scoot forward, ready for the first question.
“Maybe I should’ve ran an aptitude test onyou,” he mutters.
