Page 64 of Told You So
“This is depressing,” Bobby mutters and flicks on the light switch.
“I just got home.” Sort of. It’s hard not to notice the stuff filling my apartment, purchased with guilt money or whatever it is—mats and towels and blankets my mom’s bought me, picture frames, top-of-the-line cooking sets I never use—so it was easier to leave the lights off.
Together, my friends fill my apartment the way jocks fill any room. The silence humming around me is stomped away by boot steps and throaty quips. It’s a liveliness I didn’t realize I needed.
“You didn’t think we’d let you stew alone, did you?” Reilly pulls a bottle of Dr. Pepper out of the mixed six-pack of soda on the counter.
I smile. “I might’ve hoped.”
“Ha!” Bobby plops down on the couch. “No way. It’s initiation night, my friend.”
“Initiation night?”
Reilly hands me a Dr. Pepper.
“What, no beer?” I ask, surprised.
“Do youwantbeer?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.” Especially not after last night.
“Good,” Bobby says with a fiendish laugh. “Because we brought something way better.” He dumps the contents of the paper bag out on my coffee table: beef sticks, Sugar Babies, Whatchamacallits, and every sugary thing I remember from my childhood, are splayed out in front of me. “Wait, there’s more!” Bobby jumps up and heads out the front door.
“Although this is all very touching and...interesting, I’m a little confused. Is this about my parents?”
“Not really about your parents,” Reilly says. “It’s more about you being one of us now.”
“One of you? As in a part of the crew?” I laugh. “I thought I was the ringleader.”
Reilly clasps my shoulder with a chuckle. “That you are, my friend, but that’s not what I meant.” Reilly takes a swig of his soda. “All my life you’ve had to listen to me bitch and complain about how shitty my life was. I’ve never wished any of that on you, but you’re not so much an outsider anymore, are you?”
I shake my head. “That’s a fucked-up thing to say, Reilly.”
His chuckle deepens.
“But you’re right, it feels a little different.”
“Exactly. Now we can all be miserable together. Plus, we have years of advice and support to give back to you.”
“Wow, I even get reused material. I feel like royalty.”
Reilly kicks off his shoes and plops down on the sectional. I do the same, strangely happy. We clink bottlenecks, and Reilly raises his Dr. Pepper. “Welcome to the club, buddy.”
“Oh, there’s a club? How fancy.”
We both take a gulp, and Reilly heaves out a sigh. “Yep, the Fucked-up Family Club.” He smirks.
Bobby comes back inside with an old-school Nintendo console, and I burst with laughter. “No way!”
“We’re going back to our roots, baby,” Bobby says. While my childhood begins to resurface—late nights at my house, playing Super Mario and eating junk food from the nearby 7-Eleven—I can’t imagine what any of this would mean for Bobby, being like five years younger than us.
“He’s here for moron support,” Reilly confides, winking at me.
“Hey,” Bobby says. “I might not be as thick as thieves as the two of you, but I’ve been a part of the club longer than Nick, so I’m an elder, in comparison.”
“Oh, there’s a ranking?” I clarify, glancing between them. “Good to know. I’ll start planning my coup then.”
“Yep!” Bobby plugs the console into my big screen. “And it’s boys only, too.”
