

Self-Help 101 or:

How to Survive a Bombardment With Minimal Injury

By L.G. Keltner

Self-Help 101 or: How to Survive a Bombardment With Minimal Injury

Copyright 2016 by L.G. Keltner

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by L.G. Keltner. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover Art by L.G. Keltner and Jamon Walker

-1st edition

This book is dedicated to all the family and friends that deal with me on a regular basis. If only they had a handy guidebook for dealing with a quirky writer.

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Afterward

About the Author
**Disclaimer:**

Do not hold me, the author, accountable for anything that might happen if you choose to place yourself in harm's way. This is a rough guide for dealing with a bombardment situation should you find yourself in one. These tips come from my own personal experience, and each situation may call for an individual set of survival skills.

Even if you think you might stand to gain something from blaming me for any misfortune that may befall you, think again. I may have written a couple of books now, but my bank account doesn't seem to know it.

Chapter 1

In which potatoes become deadly and my mom stuns me with overly personal questions.

If I'd been paying proper attention, I would have seen the airborne French fry, and I would have observed that its trajectory was about to bring it into direct contact with my eye. Which means I should have seen it coming, right? That's what happens when your mind has been numbed by three consecutive hours of children screaming.

Note #1

If you want to learn to survive a bombardment with minimal injury, you should start by studying the basics of ballistics. Any object can pose a threat, especially around children.

My name is Dani, and if you're one of a handful of people who read my first book _Self-Help 101 or: How I Learned to Take Over the World Through Tolerating My Family_ , then you'll know from the opening paragraph that I didn't achieve my goal. I still babysit for money. Perhaps I overestimated my ability to make tons of money by unleashing my words upon the world. Apparently self-publishing as an unknown writer makes sales difficult. That doesn't mean I'm giving up, but I'm sure you guessed that. After all, you're reading my second book, aren't you?

As a side note, Richard "Moneymaker" Johnson's book _Self-Help 101: How to Write a Self-Help Book Regardless of Your Level of Expertise_ hit the bestseller's lists soon after I purchased my copy. I'm not bitter about that, though. I swear I'm not.

Anyway, as I write this, I'm about to start college. I'll get an on-campus job that in no way involves bratty children, and that should be good for me. I may still have to deal with idiots, but at least I won't have to deal with the kicking and screaming.

At least, I hope not.

Anyway, let's return to the issue of the flying French fry. The initial impact hurt. The human eye is quite sensitive to that sort of thing, after all. The fact that there was ketchup on it only exacerbated the issue. The intense stinging sensation was only made more irritating by the joyous laughter that erupted in response to my misery.

Note #2

Never assume anyone is unable to harm you due to their age or lack of access to traditional weapons. This is a logical extension of the first note. Children can wound you with almost anything. Don't let their angelic faces lure you into complacency.

It took every ounce of restraint I had to hold back the stream of nasty words I itched to let loose. I was sitting at a kitchen table with a five-year-old and a three-year-old. If their parents came home to discover I'd helped them expand that part of their vocabulary, I doubt they'd have congratulated me on a job well done.

Reaching for a napkin, I dabbed at my eye. "You both know that you're not supposed to throw your food. At least not with that kind of accuracy." I tried to make my voice sound stern, but it came across as exhausted.

Tabitha giggled, prompting her little brother Toby to join in. They didn't seem to be taking me all that seriously.

I cycled through all the things I could do or say to get them to listen to me. A lot of the ideas that came to mind were borderline illegal at best, and even the ones that weren't were likely to prevent me from babysitting for this family again. If I didn't need the money, I might not have cared.

I looked at the wall clock above the sink. It was almost 6:30. The summer sun still shone through the window. Only another hour or so left before Tabitha and Toby's mother got home from work.

In the end, I chose the only threat I could make without any negative repercussions. "If that food ends up anywhere other than your mouths, I'll tell your mother when she gets here." Then I settled back in my chair and tried to distract myself with one wonderful fact. This was the last night I'd be babysitting for the next couple of days. My family was going on a trip for the 4th of July, and while I knew I'd be surrounded by annoying relatives, we'd also be outdoors most of the time.

That thought kept me in a good enough place mentally that I was able to dodge the chicken nugget that had launched in the hopes of joining its brethren in a pilgrimage to my orbital socket.

* * *

The moment I stepped through my front door, Mom descended on me. She had the steely look of determination on her face she always had when a work-related deadline was fast approaching. That couldn't be a good sign. I wracked my brain for all the things I might have done to put that look there but came up empty handed.

"Are you and Seth having sex?" The question was delivered like a battering ram.

Note #3

Awkward questions can be just as jarring as airborne fried foods. If escape proves impossible, you need to be prepared to minimize and/or repair the damage.

My stomach knotted with apprehension, but I tried to play it cool. "It would be impressive if we were considering we're not even in the same house right now."

Mom laughed, and her features relaxed. "You know what I mean, Dani. The two of you have been dating for more than six months, and you're both eighteen now. You're starting college at the end of next month. I just want to know the truth. I promise I won't get mad."

It seemed like a potential trap, but I didn't see a good way to avoid it. Letting out a weary sigh that had me looking like a helium balloon two weeks post-celebration, I nodded. "Yes. Seth and I have had sex." How had I never noticed how fascinating the wooden flooring in the entryway was?

"Okay." I don't think the answer surprised my mother, but the somewhat defeated tone of her voice made me suspect that she hadn't been fully prepared to hear it. This seemed to be a critical error on her part.

Note #4

If you're the one bombarding someone with intensely personal questions, you'd better be prepared to hear any answer you might receive. There are some pieces of information you may wish you could forget, and unless you take a sharp blow to the head, this is unlikely to happen.

There was a bit of a pause, and though I was just as lost for words as my mother, I needed to break the silence before it smothered me. "Is there a particular reason why you suddenly felt the need to ask me this?"

"Um, yeah. You know I'm glad that Seth is coming on this trip with us. I think he'll have a great time, but I want to make sure that . . . you know . . ."

"You want to make sure that he doesn't have _too much_ of a good time," I finished for her.

"No . . . I . . ." Mom ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not handling this right. I'm trying. It's just that we're going to be in different cabins when we get to the lake, and I want to make sure you're being safe."

That was technically true. My parents were going to be in one cabin, and Seth and I were going to be in another. Trust me though, the arrangement wasn't nearly as scandalous as it sounds. We'd rented two cabins because we were going on this trip with several people from my mom's side of the family. My mom's sister Barbara, brother Ryan, and Ryan's wife Chloe were sharing one cabin with my parents. Aunt Barbara has two kids, and Uncle Ryan and Aunt Chloe have three. That meant five of my cousins were going to be there with me, Seth, and my brother Tyler. Eight people.

"If it makes you feel better Mom, I don't think Seth and I will be alone long enough to do anything that you'd have to worry about."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at me. "Oh please. I was your age once. I know that it's perfectly possible to find that kind of privacy if you're determined enough."

Ew! I didn't want to know what kind of shenanigans my parents got up to when they were my age. "Mom, please. Don't go any further than that."

"I'm not going into detail!" my mom said with a laugh. "Besides, how do you think you and Tyler exist? Your father and I obviously aren't celibate!"

I clapped my hands over my ears. Maybe I was being overdramatic, but I would argue that few people want to hear these sorts of details about their parents' lives. And if you do enjoy knowing these sorts of private details about your relatives, you may have a problem.

Note #5

There will be times when people give you far too much information about themselves. Unpleasant thoughts will likely follow, and you need to be prepared to deal with them. I'd recommend you take the extra step and learn to distract the person or block them out before they have a chance to gross you out in the first place.

"If I promise not to get freaky on this trip, will you stop talking about this?" I asked.

Mom put her hands up in resignation. "Fine. We don't need to go too deep into this. Trust me, I think I'm better off not hearing everything about your . . . intimate relations, but I need to know one thing."

Is it just me, or can euphemisms at times be more awkward than the more direct way of saying things? "What's that?"

"I know you're a smart girl, but you're being safe, right? You know, using the proper protective equipment and such."

My smartass nature grabbed the wheel once again. "I sure am. Elbow pads, knee pads, and goggles."

As I awaited my mom's response, I hoped her mind wouldn't travel to any disturbing places with that joke. That would only make the whole situation worse.

Mom went for the stern approach. "Dani, please answer the question."

Fine. The time for deflecting was over. Mom wanted me to show her that I could deal with these issues like a responsible adult, and oddly enough, I wanted to prove myself. "All right. I don't want to get into the nitty gritty details, but I can say this much. We used protection. I know about how to prevent diseases and stuff, and we talked everything over. I even went to the doctor to discuss birth control options. Okay?"

A few moments of silence passed while she processed what I'd told her.

Note #6

Some tidbits of information come with a longer processing time than others. Allow that time to pass without making additional comments when possible. It facilitates that process without further complicating things.

"Okay," she said at last. "It sounds like you're more responsible about this stuff than I was at your age. I'm proud of you."

My eyes must have gone comically wide. It certainly felt like they did. I hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction from admitting that I'd been sleeping with my boyfriend. Maybe this was part of that whole becoming-an-adult thing. Or maybe my mother had been replaced with a clone as part of an extraterrestrial bid for world domination. Still unsure how to respond, I went with the simplest option. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. I'd better get back to packing. We're leaving first thing in the morning, after all. Make sure you get your packing done before you go to bed. I know you well enough to know you haven't even started yet." And just like that, the most awkward conversation of my young adult life was over.

I did have plenty of packing to do (yes, my mom was right about that), but as I fled to the safety of my room, I had one thought in mind. Seth needed to be warned about my mother's knowledge.

Chapter 2

In which my boyfriend fears for his life and our family trip gets off to a bad start.

"Your mom is going to murder me." Seth groaned. "I'm going to die. All the planning about what I'm going to study in college and what I want to do with the rest of my life has all been for nothing."

"And she can easily figure out how to hide your body." Perhaps I should have been trying to reassure him, but teasing him was too fun to resist. "She's a writer, and people already expect her to have a depraved search history." As a ghost-writer, she typically writes non-fiction that doesn't involve grisly murders, but one of her projects a few years back dealt with a serial killer. The literature scattered throughout her office at that time would have horrified anyone.

"You'd probably help her do it, too."

"Only if you made me mad enough." I tried to say this in a severe tone, but making an empty threat sound real through a wide grin turned out to be impossible.

Seth laughed. "I'm in more trouble than I thought, if that's the case."

"You've been in trouble from the beginning."

After a short pause, Seth became serious again. "Be honest, though. How am I supposed to look your parents in the eye tomorrow? Or for the next year, for that matter? This is bad timing at its worst."

"My mom engineered it that way. She asked now _because_ we're leaving tomorrow. She wanted to be sure we're being safe. I had to give her more details than I ever wanted to share with her on the issue, but she didn't seem upset afterwards. And if it's any consolation, there's no way she's going to ask you about any of it."

"Oh joy," Seth muttered. "Even if she never brings it up, I'll feel it when she looks at me. And your dad. Do you think she'll tell your dad?"

That was a good question. I didn't like the idea of my mom talking to my dad about my sex life, but she'd always told him about everything important in the past. There didn't seem to be any good reason why this time would be different. And she would do it, if only to make me feel extra awkward. "Probably, but there's no way he'll ever bring it up willingly. He'll do everything he can to pretend he never heard about it."

He sighed. "Let's hope so. Anyway, have you packed yet?"

I looked over at the empty suitcase sitting on my bed. "How could you ask such a thing? I thought you knew me better than that."

"So that's a 'no,' is it?"

"Yes, of course it is. Last minute is good enough for this sort of thing."

"Oh, I know. Just don't forget to pack underwear this time," he said with a snort.

Note #7

When you're going on a trip with someone you've known for a long time, don't leave them an opening to bring up a past embarrassing experience. You're going to be dodging enough crap without begging for more.

"That only happened once," I said defensively.

We were ten, and I went camping with Seth's family. Some of their family friends came along as well, along with their own kids. It was a huge gathering, so a lot of people got to witness my humiliation. One of Seth's cousins thought it would be funny to push me, fully clothed, into the lake. I was a bit less amused than the others, because honestly, who wants to spend the rest of the day walking around in wet shoes?

After I pulled myself back onto shore, I went to the tent to change. I had plenty of clean shirts, shorts, and socks. No underwear. How I forgot to pack such a vital necessity, I'll never know. It only made matters worse that I'd made a big production of telling my mom that I didn't need her help packing my bags. I'd sworn that I was old enough to do these things by myself.

I tried slipping some dry shorts on over the wet garment, but it only took a couple of minutes for the damp material to soak through. People initially assumed that I peed my pants. When you're ten, that's just not cool.

My confession about what actually happened didn't convince everyone. The last time I saw her, Seth's cousin Samantha still called me Dani Damp Pants. That was less than two years ago, too. I've been considering a plethora of ways to get back at her for it.

Seth's mom was nice about it, at least. After I changed into yet another pair of shorts sans undergarments, she drove me into town and bought me some replacements. When I got back, several people greeted me as Commando Dani, including Seth's older sister Stacy.

Note #8

Sometimes you're going to be bombarded by insults, and it's crucial to know how to deal with that. It isn't always a good idea to eviscerate your tormentors, so keep that in mind. Witty comebacks are often your best option.

To his credit, Seth was largely sympathetic, and he defended me when the teasing got really bad. That's not to say he didn't laugh at me at all. Of course he did. It would have been impossible not to.

"It may have only happened once, but that story will live on forever," Seth said.

"The people who keep telling it won't, though," I growled. "Anyway, I should probably go. I have bags to pack, underwear to locate, people to punish, and all that. I just wanted to give you a heads-up."

"Uh huh. I'm never going to be able to sleep now. I'm expecting a ninja assassin to show up and finish me off in the night."

I laughed. "Nah. My parents actually like you. The thought of me moving on and dating someone they could potentially hate should stop them. And even if they do try something, I love you too much to let them do it. I'll just have my ninja assassins intercept theirs."

Seth snorted. "Sounds like an epic battle."

"It would be. We could film it. Sell tickets and popcorn." I glanced at the clock and confirmed that time was definitely not on my side. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow. And Dani?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

I ended the call with a silly grin on my face. Though we'd said those words plenty of times before, I still got a thrill from hearing them.

Yeah, I know I'm a dork. You don't need to remind me.

* * *

The shrill, bone-chilling wail of my alarm clock tore through the dimly lit room like an air raid siren. I reflexively sat up, grabbed my pillow, and covered my head with it as I collapsed back onto the bed.

Note #9

An alarm clock is an assault weapon designed to be so unpleasant that you have no choice but to get out of the warm comfort of your bed before your body is ready to face the day. Avoid using them when at all possible, because days that begin in that manner are off to an immediate disadvantage.

The relentless cry of the clock still reached me through the barrier I'd chosen. I briefly considered whether I could throw anything at it to disarm it, but I decided against it. I didn't want to run the risk of breaking anything in my bleary-eyed state. The clock was on the desk next to my reading lamp and computer, objects too precious to be jeopardized in a moment of laziness.

Though every muscle in my body protested, I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and set my feet down on the cold floor. Hardwood floors are beautiful, but they're not kind to bare feet first thing in the morning. Even though it was July and perfectly warm outside, the air conditioning conspired to make my feet miserable.

I shut down the offensive alarm clock with a loud _smack!_ before heading over to my dresser. I donned the green short-sleeved t-shirt that had become my new favorite due to the message written on the front: "I'm a writer. Be nice or I'll make you the villain. If you're a real jerk, I'll also give you an Oedipus complex." I followed that up with a pair of black athletic shorts. With the prospect of a six-hour drive ahead of me, I wanted to wear the most comfortable clothes possible.

Note #10

Choose your attire strategically. If you're going to be sitting for long periods of time, loose is the way to go. If you're going to want gum, mints, etc. you might want to have plenty of pockets. If you're anticipating blood splatter, wear red. If you want people to leave you alone, accessorize appropriately and wear headphones. It doesn't matter if you actually listen to anything or not. Also, if you're wearing a t-shirt with writing or images that could be construed as offensive, be prepared for any potential fallout.

My luggage sat by my bedroom door. I'd double-checked it before turning in for the night, and I'd definitely packed plenty of underwear. Socks too. I was reasonably sure I had everything I needed to survive my days in the middle of nowhere. Then again, considering the cousins I was going to be spending that time with, I couldn't be 100% sure of anything.

I grabbed my bags and started my sleep-dazed descent down the stairs. The scent of brewing coffee greeted me about halfway down, so my parents were already moving around down there. While I wasn't exactly looking forward to facing them after the awkward sex question was posed, the lure of caffeine was too strong to deny. I dropped my things by the front door and headed into the kitchen.

Snippets of a one-sided conversation became audible. I tried not to listen too closely as I made my way to the coffee, but given that my mom was talking on the phone while leaning against the counter, that proved impossible.

"Carrie, I do want to help, but . . ." She paused as she listened to whatever my aunt was saying.

I internally groaned. Conversations with Aunt Carrie had been unbearable over the last several months. After the big Christmas blow-up, Carrie and George had started seeing a marriage counselor. Sure, I had no issue with them trying to work things out and save their marriage. In fact, I hoped that they'd work things out before the next family Christmas, because I wasn't eager to repeat that part of the holiday. That didn't mean, however, that I wanted to hear the details about those counseling experiences.

I poured myself a cup of coffee while my mom continued to speak. "I understand. This is so last minute, that's all."

Uh oh. That didn't sound encouraging. Last minute changes in plans only made things annoyingly complicated.

Note #11

From time to time, you'll be bombarded by last minute events that may force you to alter your plans or throw them out altogether. Try to remain calm, no matter how unpleasant or inconvenient these changes may be.

"All right," Mom was saying. "We will." Another pause. "In about three hours. That's the best we can do."

This really did not sound good. I started rummaging around the cupboards looking for something to eat. At that staggeringly early time of morning, I wasn't even hungry yet, but I needed an excuse to still be in the room so I didn't appear nosy.

I'd just discovered a bag of mini powdered donuts and a box of strawberry Pop Tarts and was debating which option would make for a more suitable breakfast when my mom said, "Just leave Corey with your neighbor, then. We'll pick him up from there."

No! No, no, no, no, no . . .

"It's no trouble, okay? We'd be happy to have him along. He'll have a great time."

Mom was lying, of course. Aunt Carrie and Uncle George lived about an hour and a half out of our way. That deviation was going to throw the timing of this trip way off. That could impact when and how we got lunch, as well as the sleeping arrangements in the cabin. Those weren't insignificant details.

Physics were what concerned me most, though. Our van was packed full of gear for the trip. The addition of an extra person into the mix would only make life more complicated, and that's disregarding the fact that Corey can be a total pain in the ass.

"Okay. Okay. Have a good trip. Bye." Mom hung up the phone and immediately pinched the bridge of her nose. "Damn it!"

"There are delicate ears in the room, Mom," I said as I settled on the donuts.

Mom glared. "Don't give me that kind of crap, Dani. I'm not in the mood."

Oh joy! Having a parent in a terrible mood was bound to make the long car ride into a pleasant experience. (Side note: someone should invent a font for sarcasm.)

Rather than risk saying the wrong thing, which seemed entirely likely, I took a sip of my coffee.

"Is everything okay?" Dad asked, stepping in through the side door with a duffel bag in hand. He must have made a run to the shed to grab some last minute items.

"That was Carrie on the phone," Mom said as she ran a hand through her unbrushed hair. "You know that couple's retreat they're leaving for today? Corey was supposed to stay with a friend for a few days, but that friend's mother had a stroke last night, and they need someone else to take him."

Dad sighed. "Let me guess. He's going with us now?"

"Spot on." Mom shook her head. "Is everything going to go wrong today? We're not off to a good start."

"At least Tyler will be thrilled," I said, an evil grin splitting my face.

That didn't earn me a glance from either of them.

"I'd better finish getting everything ready and rearrange things in the van. Need to make some more room," Dad grumbled.

"Good luck, Dad," I said. I even managed to keep a sarcastic edge from creeping into my tone.

Dad glanced briefly at me, only to avert his gaze almost immediately. "Thanks, Dani," he said before hurrying from the room.

That clinched it. She'd told him. Mom told Dad that Seth and I have a sex life to speak of, and now I was going to be stuck in a cramped van for hours on end with him, my grumpy mom, my annoying brother, my insufferable cousin, and the boyfriend that everyone knew had taken my virginity.

Terrific.

Chapter 3

In which a long drive is filled with tension and awkwardly-timed memories.

"He's trying to cut me down with his eyes," Seth said wearily.

We stood on his front porch, and he had his bags in hand. Everyone else was still in the van, but my dad was watching the two of us with an unusual intensity, as if we might duck into the house and do something naughty with all of them right there. "Yeah, he kind of is. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Seth said. "At least I won't die a virgin."

I nodded. "Way to look on the bright side."

"That's not looking on the bright side. That's clinging to the only thought that can bring me comfort."

I elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Come on. No need to be overdramatic about it. Let's just get this over with before it gets even more awkward."

"I'm not sure that's possible." Despite his grumbling, Seth started to trudge down the sidewalk.

"Just don't let him see that he's getting to you," I said as I followed him.

By the time we got to the van, an ugly green thing with peeling paint and a dent in the rear bumper from a minor parking lot accident three years earlier, Dad had diverted his attention to Mom. They were whispering quickly, and it felt heated. Seth and I put his bags in the back, which was challenging enough, while trying to ignore the fight brewing nearby.

When we went to climb in, Mom turned to face us. Prior to stopping by Seth's house, I was sitting in the back. There was enough room back there for two people, though barely, next to a small pile of luggage. I'd assumed I'd end up sitting back there with Seth, but Tyler was now sitting in my spot.

"You two are sitting up here," Mom said. Her voice sounded flat. Resigned.

I looked at the two middle seats, separated by a gap that enabled people to move to and from the back. I found that gap mildly irritating, yes, but being that much closer to my parents and their scrutiny was worse. The change also offended me, because really, what were Seth and I going to get up to in such a small, cramped space while in the company of my family?

I raised an eyebrow as I looked back at my mom. "Is this necessary?"

She sighed, and I had little doubt that she agreed with me. Not that this was going to do me any good. For the sake of keeping peace, she was going along with what Dad wanted. Fighting that would've been pointless. "Just get in, Dani. Please."

Tyler glared at me as I climbed in. "You're not the only one suffering here. I have to sit next to Corey for most of our drive."

As much as I felt slighted, I couldn't deny that Tyler indeed had it worse. That doesn't mean I actively felt sorry for him. It was too early in an already stressful day for me to muster that kind of feeling.

Note #12

When you're being bombarded on all sides by hostile feelings, try not to worry about it too much. Family vacations are natural hotbeds of hostility, and it's not a problem as long as no one gets violent. Most of the time, it's better for your sanity if you ignore the drama around you.

Unfortunately, I'm not always able to heed my own advice. Some things are simply too difficult to ignore. During the drive to pick Corey up, my parents barely spoke to one another. Their exchanges were practical and perfunctory. They had to do with which turn to take, when to stop for gas, and things of that nature. Tyler also remained quiet, but his arms were crossed in front of his chest the entire time. Though his defiance won him nothing, I had to commend his dedication.

When we finally arrived and Corey climbed into the van, I couldn't get an accurate read on his expression. His slumped shoulders made it appear as if he wasn't all that happy, but he was trying to hide it. When he settled in next to Tyler, he didn't seem to care that Tyler's face showed nothing but thinly veiled contempt, because he immediately started trying to engage my surly brother in conversation. I only caught snippets of what Corey was saying, but it sounded like he'd concocted a plan to become a millionaire before he turned eighteen, and some director had expressed interest in having him appear in an upcoming movie. None of this was any more unbelievable than the stories he'd told in the past.

As for Seth and me, we talked, but with my parents right there in front of us, there were only so many things we could talk about. We stuck to neutral topics like our old classmates, and what college was going to be like. We were both going to the same state university about forty miles from where we currently lived, along with about a dozen of those old high school classmates. I knew I wanted to go into writing of some kind. Yeah, I'm still determined to rake in the big bucks. Seth, on the other hand, hoped to become a teacher, though he hadn't yet decided what kind of teacher he wanted to be. It's funny, isn't it? I'm trying to get out of working with children, and he's going to be spending money to get into working with children. I already told him he's crazy. We both wondered what our classes would be like, and how different it would be living away from home.

Perhaps that topic wasn't all that neutral, though, because that's when I started catching my dad shooting looks at us via the rearview mirror. Maybe it's because there was no escaping the fact that I was growing up, or maybe he was afraid of what Seth and I would get up to once we moved out.

And with the level of attention Seth and I were receiving, I couldn't keep my mind from straying to awkward topics, even while I did everything I could to avoid giving in to those thoughts.

Note #13

Your brain will betray you when you're in the middle of an awkward situation. It will bombard you with thoughts that make your life harder. It's even worse when family is involved.

Though sex is a topic many people go to great lengths to avoid, when it came to Seth and me, the sex talk actually happened. It had been a damn sight more uncomfortable than I'd let on when I discussed what happened with my mom, though.

The topic came up for us in the same way many of the big issues do. We were alone one night about a week after Valentine's Day, and we got a bit carried away. You know how it goes. Kissing leads to touching, and in the course of all that touching, clothes disappear. That lack of clothing can, under many circumstances, lead to the acceleration of previously mentioned activities.

Then comes the moment where you reach a crossroads, and you have to make a decision. You can tread the same path you've been using thus far, or you can take that step and have sex. It's a big deal.

Seth and I reached that point, and we paused as we silently acknowledged what was happening. A lack of supplies ultimately made the choice for us, though. Instead of venturing into new territory, we wandered down the road well-traveled, enjoyable as it was. Afterwards, as we sat in his bed, still naked apart from the blanket we'd covered up with, I uttered the first words of an important discussion.

"So . . . yeah."

Nailed it!

"Yeah." Seth sounded winded.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Picking at the comforter's fraying corner, I considered my words. We needed to talk about this, and I'd been thinking as much for some time. Sure, discussing sex in detail – if we should have it, when we should have it, how the deed should be done – seemed potentially embarrassing, but I couldn't deny that blindly stumbling into sex could have far worse consequences than a few flushed cheeks and averted glances.

Note #14

When hormones bombard you and tempt you into making rash decisions, it's crucial that you attempt to act rationally. Sex can be great, provided that you aren't an idiot about it.

"We nearly . . . um." I was obviously struggling with this. I knew I needed to act like the adult I'd legally been for a little over a week at that point, but that didn't mean these things were suddenly easy. "Sex. We nearly had it," I spit out at last.

Eloquence is occasionally less important than getting the damn words out.

Seth nodded. "Yeah. That was kind of a close one." He looked me in the eye, and bright red as his face was, he didn't shy away. "If I'd had a condom with me, do you think we would have?"

It was an easier question to answer than I expected it to be. "Probably. I know I wanted to." And it was true. There, in the heat of the moment, the nervousness I'd felt about taking that step had faded into the background. I wanted to experience this unknown thing, and I wanted to experience it with Seth, who I trust more than anyone. "Did you want to?"

His expression would have been appropriate if I'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "Couldn't you tell? I wanted it so much I thought I was going to lose my mind."

I nodded. "If we're on the same page about this, we should figure out how to handle it."

So we did. I'm not going to tell you everything we said, because some things really are too private to share with you, even in a book that people most likely won't read. Suffice it to say, we agreed on a few basic things. A couple of days later, I went to the doctor to discuss birth control stuff, and Seth embarked on the adventure of procuring condoms. He knew exactly where to find them, because years ago the two of us used to snicker whenever we saw someone picking them off the shelf at the drug store.

Oh, how the times change.

After that, it became a waiting game. We finally got another chance to be alone when my parents went out for a date night. They'd decided to go out to eat at a local restaurant that was offering free pie for dessert, and they planned to follow that up with a movie. That promised to keep them out of the house for a few hours. Meanwhile, Tyler was staying the night at a friend's house.

As far as opportunities went, it was pretty perfect.

We spent the first couple of minutes perched on the edge of my bed just looking at each other. I studied his face in great detail. Not that I needed to. I'd grown up looking at that face. I knew the story behind so many of those features.

The faded scar above his left eye came from the time when we were seven years old and we had the brilliant idea of wearing roller blades and latching onto the back of his cousin Ray's souped-up 4-wheeler. Ray was grounded for a month after Seth had to go to the ER to have his head stitched back up.

Then there was the slight chip in one of his canines that was on full display every time he smiled at me. That happened when we were twelve, and this one was purely a product of his own klutziness. He was trying to show off some dance moves in front of a group of people and made the fatal mistake of using the phrase "Watch this!"

Note #15

When executing a potentially hazardous maneuver, do not draw undue attention to yourself. This only invites disaster.

At this point, though I was still fully clothed, I felt naked, stripped down to the bone, because he was looking back at me with the same intensity. What stories from our past was he reading in my face?

"I love you." The words slipped out of my mouth, shattering the heavy silence. I'd only said those words a couple of times since he read my first book and discovered how I felt about him. Saying it aloud had been a little scary the first time, even though I was only confirming what Seth already knew. This time, though, it felt like the right thing to say. The perfect thing.

He reached out and tangled his fingers in my hair. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," he said. Then he leaned forward and kissed me. Before pulling away, he whispered, "I love you, too." His breath ghosted over my ear, making me shiver.

I'm sure your imaginations are able to reconstruct what happened from there.

I will say this much. Even without knowing how to angle our bodies and where to rest our hands and how to coordinate our movements, one thing prevented it from being hopelessly ungainly. It was him and me. Seth and Dani. So much had changed, was still changing, but that one crucial fact remained the same.

There were a lot of emotions that night, and it was overwhelming to say the least. Afterwards, as we lay together on the bed, my head on his shoulder and his arm curled around my waist, I felt so much it was hard to sort it all out, and even harder to describe it all.

Note #16

You may find yourself in a situation where you will be assaulted by intense feelings. It may seem scary, but you don't necessarily want to shy away from them. Sometimes it's best to embrace the feelings and see what comes.

Remembering all of this while in a crowded family van definitely wasn't a good idea. My cheeks were starting to heat up, so I tried to shove it all to the back of my mind. Easier said than done. What was worse, it felt like everyone knew and was judging me. Which was ridiculous, right?

Except, of course, both my parents knew, and Dad kept shooting glances back at us.

Never mind.

Chapter 4

In which the antics of my idiot cousins bring back horrible memories and result in the first injury of the trip.

By the time we made it to the lake, the entire lower half of my body had fallen asleep from sitting still for so long, and my nerves were frayed. At some point during the drive, Tyler must have decided to feign sleep so Corey would leave him alone. I knew he wasn't really asleep, though, because Tyler always snored. He even snored when he was a baby napping in his crib.

Once Tyler found his escape, Corey leaned forward and tried to join in with our conversation. It didn't take long for the topic to wander from the short story I'd written to a story about how all of Corey's teachers said he was one of the most gifted story-tellers they'd ever seen.

Come to think of it, there might have actually been some truth to that statement.

As soon as the lake came into view, I felt a simultaneous sense of relief and dread. The close confines of the van were bad, but the family gathering I was about to step into didn't promise to be any better. Aside from Corey, I'd be dealing with my mom's side of the family. This part of my family has a lot more people around my age, but trust me, that's not a good thing. Similarity in age is not enough to make up for such a disparity in maturity or IQ.

Note # 17

If you're about to be surrounded by idiots, you need to mentally prepare yourself. You must be aware of everything happening around you while also letting the annoying but insignificant details slide. This can be a difficult balance to achieve.

We approached the first cabin, and I got a glimpse of The Fallible Four. They were gathered outside, and without getting more than a cursory look, I knew they were up to no good.

Believe me when I say The Fallible Four earned that designation. Patrick was the second oldest of them, having recently turned twenty-one. If anything, this fact made me more concerned for the group's safety, because that made for two group members who could now legally obtain alcohol. He was already known for his past antics involving fireworks. He really didn't need anything reinforcing his negative behaviors.

Then there was Zeke, the youngest of The Fallible Four and Patrick's brother. Zeke was seventeen. When we were much younger, he used to hang around me at family gatherings because his older brother went to great lengths to avoid him. That slowly changed over the years, and it eventually got to the point where he scarcely acknowledged my existence. Now Patrick and Zeke were all but inseparable, and they'd inspired each other to get into all kinds of trouble over the years.

As I stepped out of the parked van, Patrick was standing right by the cabin, and Zeke was scrambling to stand on Patrick's shoulders. Fortunately for them both, Patrick has a sturdy, muscular frame and took the added weight easily.

"What are they doing?" Seth asked as he came to stand beside me.

"Being themselves," I said. "Beyond that, I have no idea."

Surveying the situation, I didn't see any adults around (and I mean authoritative adulty-adults, not people like me) other than my own parents, and they were too busy unloading bags and coolers from the van to be aware of much else.

Once Zeke was settled in place, Matt moved to climb aboard. Unlike the brunette brothers already mentioned, twenty-year-old Matt almost could have passed for fourteen. His bleach blond hair, bright blue eyes, and slender face contributed to his youthful look. His short stature and gangly limbs only exacerbated it. As he scrambled to his own perch atop the teetering pile of doofuses, he looked a bit like a spider monkey.

"No good can come from this," Seth mumbled.

I nodded. "It never does. This side of my family represents Darwinism at its finest. The biggest idiots may well remove themselves from the gene pool before this holiday is over."

"My bet is on Zeke being the one who bites it," Tyler said as he passed us on his way to the cabin. He didn't make eye contact with any of The Fallible Four as he approached the front door and disappeared inside with his bags.

Corey stopped to contribute his two cents. "My friends and I did something like that once. We formed a human ladder to get onto the roof of the school and camped up there for the night." Then he followed in Tyler's footsteps.

Though I disbelieved Corey's story due to the fact that it was Corey telling it, I couldn't deny that it sounded like a fun way to spend an evening.

As Carly, the oldest member of The Fallible Four at age twenty-two, began her journey up the human tower of stupidity, Mom tapped me on the shoulder. "There's all your things," she said, pointing to the pile of luggage. "Take it inside yourselves. Your dad and I are going to drive up to our cabin now. It's about a quarter mile that way." She pointed down the road to demonstrate, and I was beginning to wonder what kind of tunnel vision she had that she'd failed to notice what my cousins were doing.

Or maybe she had noticed but was feigning ignorance to avoid dealing with the issue. That seemed like a good response.

Note #18

When you find yourself in an unusual situation and there's a safe way for you to ignore it and move on, that might be your best course of action. Some things aren't worth getting involved in if you can help it.

The blonde Carly reached the top as my parents climbed back into the van and drove away. Carly was somehow even smaller than her brother Matt, so instead of passing for fourteen, she could have passed for twelve. Tiny as she was, she settled onto Matt's shoulders easily enough and stepped confidently onto the roof of the cabin.

"Should she even be up there?" Seth asked. "How old is she?"

This made me laugh. I doubled over, my hand over my stomach. Seth looked at me with a bewildered expression as I continued to giggle. "No, she shouldn't be up there, but she's also older than all of us, so I'm not going to tell her that she should get down."

"Hmm. In that case, she's either crazy or a moron," Seth replied.

"In my family, it can go either way." I watched with genuine curiosity as Carly balanced on the gently sloping roof. After she got her footing, she leaned out and offered Matt a hand.

"Get a move on, Matt!" Patrick yelled from the ground. "My shoulders are starting to hurt!"

"Try not to be such a wimp!" Matt yelled back.

"Don't make me beat your ass!" Patrick tried to shout, but his red face and strained expression made it clear that the whole endeavor was getting to him.

I can't say that I had all that much confidence in Carly's ability to pull her brother onto the roof beside her. Even though Matt's so slight, he still has at least twenty pounds on her. She proved me wrong, though Matt did help by bracing himself against the building and walking up the last couple of feet.

At long last, Tweedledee and Tweedledumbass were on the roof, beaming at their success.

Zeke hopped off Patrick's shoulders, and the two of them wandered around the other side of the cabin. For a moment, I wondered whether they intended to leave Carly and Matt stranded up there. I wouldn't have blamed them if they did.

Note #19

Don't ever leave your fate in the hands of jerks or idiots if you can help it. Also don't leave your fate in the hands of people who have good reason to think that you are a jerk or idiot.

Then the brothers came back into view, and they were carrying the dreaded trampoline. I shuddered. That trampoline gave me serious trust issues when I was five.

I was a graceless child anyway, but the trampoline lied by promising to propel me into the air with effortless backflips and let me experience that glorious moment of weightlessness before gravity reasserts itself and pulls you back to Earth. Everyone I knew made it look so fun and easy. How could it possibly go wrong?

That was the first time my life ever flashed before my eyes. Apparently that really does happen. Since I was only five at the time, the montage of toys, preschool days, and petty arguments with Seth only took a few short moments. In fact, it was over before I'd even realized what had gone wrong.

I'm glad there's no video evidence of the incident, because that probably would have been used for years to come to illustrate the dangers of trampolines. It would have shown tiny little me, my legs flailing furiously and my head tapped between the metal frame and the jumping mat. I remember the feeling of the springs digging into my neck, and the angle made it hard to breathe. All in all, the whole thing was quite horrifying and not terribly funny. My dad was there, at least, and he was able to extract me. I was sore as could be and had bruises for weeks afterwards, but there was no permanent damage.

Other than trampoline-related trust issues, that is.

Note #20

There is a proper time and place for overcoming your fears. A vacation surrounded by insane family members probably isn't it. It may be healthier to respect your fears and consider all the reasons why they may not be as irrational as others might think.

"I don't know if I want to watch this," Seth said as Patrick and Zeke arranged the trampoline below Carly and Matt. "This could be gruesome."

"That's my cousins. Always going for the shock value." I tried to keep my words light, but I continued to eye that ancient deathtrap of a trampoline with distrust. I didn't know why it was still here. We'd been vacationing at these same cabins for years. My mom did some promotional writing for the people who owned the property, so she had no problem reserving them whenever she wanted. So yeah, that was the very same monstrosity that once tried to decapitate me. I'd at least been smart enough not to touch it since that incident. I didn't feel like seeing how this ill-fated plan was about to unfold, either.

I tugged Seth's arm gently. "You're right. I don't want to be an accessory to anything. Having to give a detailed account to the cops about how my cousins managed to cave their skulls in is not my idea of a good time."

He nodded. "It's just hard to look away when something awful is clearly about to happen."

We trudged toward the cabin with luggage in hand. It would take at least a couple more trips to get everything inside. I made sure to leave plenty of clearance between myself and the trampoline to avoid any potential issues.

"It's ready!" Patrick called as we passed them.

I quickened my pace.

Carly positioned herself at the roof's edge, her arms raised theatrically into the air. Matt moved forward to stand alongside her.

"Carly was on her university's diving team, and Matt's been in gymnastics most of his life," I explained. "I fear it's given them an inflated sense of what they can accomplish."

Seth pointed to a cluster of empty beer bottles on a nearby picnic table. "That probably played a role too."

Note #21

When in the field preparing for battle, beware alcohol-fueled bravado. It can be dangerous for both the afflicted and anyone else in the vicinity.

We were almost clear of the danger zone, my hand on the door knob, when the lemmings took the plunge. Neither Seth nor I saw what was undoubtedly a rather graceful synchronized leap. I did, however, hear it. The straining springs, bloodcurdling screams, and laughter made for a terrible sound that I'll remember for the rest of my life.

Spending holidays with my family is like going into battle, indeed.

Chapter 5

In which we deal with crushed nuts, food terrors, and a spot of blood to keep life interesting.

Matt was stretched out on the sofa, groaning like he was on the verge of death. While the other members of The Fallible Four had helped Matt into his current resting place, Seth and I had hauled the rest of our things inside. Once everything was settled, Matt and his pain was the center of attention.

All the guys in the room shifted uncomfortably when Matt adjusted the makeshift icepack that covered his groin. It had been thrown together using a sandwich bag (Patrick had happily volunteered to eat the sandwich previously contained within) and some of the ice from the beer cooler. At the rate my cousins seemed to be going, I doubted the beer would have the chance to get warm anyway.

I've always wondered why guys tend to have sympathy pains when another guy in the room gets his nuts smashed. I mean, yeah, I can understand being sympathetic, but to take on the pain yourself is bound to be problematic.

Note #22

Do all you can to avoid pain of any kind. When you're under bombardment, you cannot afford to be crippled by pain, especially if that pain is caused by identifying too closely with a fallen comrade. You need to remain strong.

Patrick handed Matt an open bottle of beer. "Drink up, man. You earned it."

"Or he's earned a kick in the butt for being such a bonehead," I said as Matt took a swig from the proffered beverage.

That earned a snicker from Sophie, who I'd only just noticed curled up in the window seat with a book. She was sixteen, and she'd gone through a growth spurt since the last time I saw her. Her legs were always on the long side, and she now had to strategically fold them to fit into the space. Sophie is Carly and Matt's younger sister, though she's taller than both of them. She differs from them in a lot of ways. Over the years, she'd spent the majority of her time not being a certifiable asshole and _not_ risking her neck doing stupid things. I'd spent more time with her than with the rest of my cousins combined.

Note #23

When in a bombardment situation, you should find a sane person to watch your back. That alone can save you when things fall apart.

I offered Sophie a smile before turning back to Matt. "Why did I let you guys talk me into this?" he moaned. Then he glared at Carly. "And why couldn't you watch where your giant foot landed?"

She shrugged. "How do you know I didn't?"

That drew a laugh from everyone but Matt, whose glare only intensified.

"Is it just me, or does it seem like someone always gets hurt like this?" Zeke asked. "Last year it was me and the teeter totter. The year before that it was Matt and that tree branch."

Zeke had a valid point. Much like the clichéd video compilations you find online, our past Independence Day gatherings had included a wide variety of interesting injuries. I had to wonder why The Fallible Four continued to get up to their antics year after year when it always ended in pain. Then again, Patrick made for quite the persuasive ring leader. Interestingly enough, I couldn't recall a single instance when Patrick was the one who got hurt.

Curious, no?

"Sometimes I wonder if guys all have magnets in their crotches," I said. "Given the frequency of testicular damage, it seems like a case of evolutionary oversight, doesn't it?"

Matt took another long drink of his beer. It was already half gone. I wondered how long it would take someone of his small size to get drunk. "I don't think I'm going to be able to have kids after this, that's for sure."

Considering Matt and what I'd just seen him do, perhaps evolution knew what it was doing after all.

Carly shrugged and checked her watch. "I'm glad I don't have to worry about testicular damage. What I do need to worry about is getting ready for dinner. We have to get a move on now if we don't want to be late." Then she smacked Matt's thigh, and he cringed. "Man up, little brother. Time to get moving."

* * *

Though Matt's limp was noticeable as we approached the adults' cabin, only Aunt Chloe mentioned anything about it. She was only a whisp of a woman when I was a kid, but the intervening years had rounded her figure. That, however, didn't slow her down. She still had the rapid movements of a hummingbird, flitting about as she tried to assess the damage. "Oh sweetie, what happened? What did you hurt? I can take a look at it."

All the color drained from Matt's face, and by some form of bizarre magic, that color seemed to rise again in Carly's face as she struggled to contain her laughter. Maybe it was a sibling-related phenomenon.

"No Mom!" Matt squeaked, waving his hands to get some space between them. And I'm not exaggerating. He really did squeak. It might have been a side effect of the trauma he'd just suffered. "It's fine!"

Uncle Ryan, who was shaking his head, put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Chloe, leave the boy alone. We're going to be eating soon, and one of us needs to finish slicing the onions and tomatoes."

Aunt Chloe's head snapped around. "I thought Barbara was doing that!"

"Yeah, but she sliced her finger instead. Beth is patching her up right now," he said with the signature Uncle Ryan eye roll. He'd perfected the art of eye rolling to the point where I had to wonder if his eyes were actually attached to anything. I envy that ability.

There was a reason for the eye roll, too. Aunt Barbara's fingers are littered with scars. I am seriously shocked that she has yet to sever one entirely. "Why in the world would anyone give her a knife?" Though I risked retaliation, I felt the question needed to be asked.

As I expected, that comment drew a glare from my uncle. Then the intensity left his expression, and his shoulders sagged. "You're right, Dani. I would have tried to talk her out of it, but that would have only made matters worse. I don't want anyone to be mad at me all day, especially Barbara. I grew up with her. I learned to survive."

I shook my head. "I don't think you have much to worry about. Aunt Barbara might get really mad, but if she ever comes at you with a knife, she'll only end up hurting herself."

"True, but she's also really good at darts. I think I should still be careful."

Also true. I honestly didn't understand how one type of sharp, pointy object functioned as Aunt Barbara's kryptonite, but another type of sharp, pointy object seemed to become a natural extension of her body when she wielded it. Then again, I should always expect the nonsensical from my relatives.

Uncle Ryan finished the last sip of the beer he was holding and sighed. "I guess I should play the role of concerned brother and check on how they're doing, shouldn't I?"

Aunt Chloe waved her hand in a shooing motion. "By all means, go! Try not to get in their way."

I looked over at the corner of the patio where the grill stood. I knew by the powers of deductive reasoning who was in charge of grilling the hamburgers and chicken we were planning to have, but I cringed when I saw him with a pair of tongs in hand.

Dad.

There are three kinds of dads, as far as I can tell, when it comes to grilling. One type of dad is at least competent with a grill. Their food almost always turns out edible, and it may even be delicious. The second type of dad grills out despite family members' attempts to dissuade them. These dads take once-edible food and turn it into something unrecognizable. This is the group my dad belongs to, unfortunately. The third category is the one I wish my dad would consider joining, and that's dads who have no interest in grilling out whatsoever. If you can't do it, don't bother.

Within the confines of an indoor kitchen, my dad does okay. He's no gourmet chef by any means, but his food won't kill your appetite on sight. He simply can't handle an open flame, and he refuses to admit it.

Note #24

Improperly cooked food can be a killer. Burned food can dry your mouth out, leaving you dehydrated and vulnerable. Undercooked or spoiled food can lead to you being holed-up in the bathroom with explosive diarrhea, projectile vomiting, or both. No one is capable of defending themselves in that state.

Seth and I wandered over to the grill, though we did so with caution. I was cautious because I really didn't want to see the sad condition of our food. My boyfriend was cautious because he didn't want to risk any hostile glares or uncomfortable talk.

As I expected, the hamburgers looked like they'd been plunged into the heart of the fire. I had to wonder if any portion of the meat remained uncharred. The chicken wasn't faring any better.

"Yum. Carcinogens," I whispered to Seth.

Seth laughed, and that captured Dad's attention. He looked up from the utter travesty that was our dinner, eyebrow raised in silent query. Seth froze on the spot, and there was a prolonged pause as they stared at each other.

_Please let there be a distraction_ , I thought as I looked between them. Sure, I could have created one myself, but that would have been far too obvious, and really, I didn't need to bring those kinds of horrors upon myself.

"Honey, I think she's going to need stitches!" my mom called as she emerged from the cabin. Aunt Barbara stood next to her, and I swear, her entire arm and the front of her formerly white and light blue outfit was red with blood. Yikes! That made for a better distraction than I could have devised on my own.

"I told you, Beth, I can take care of myself. Give me my keys." Barbara sounded confident enough in her ability to drive, but her skin was at least two shades whiter than normal.

"No way!" My mom stared at her sister, and I wondered how many similar stand-offs they'd had as children. My mom has always been a strong woman, but Barbara has chosen strength as a lifestyle. She makes me look downright acquiescent at times, and that takes some doing.

Of course, strength has been necessary for her. Barbara has never been married or in any long term relationship, and having to raise Patrick and Zeke largely on her own couldn't have been easy. They both have frequent contact with their respective fathers, but they've always lived with their mother full-time. I can't imagine how she doesn't have PTSD by now.

Okay, I might talk about Patrick and Zeke like they're idiots, and yeah, they can be a lot of the time, but they're somehow still alive. That alone is a testament to the fact that, while Aunt Barbara may not be perfect, she's obviously done something right.

Uncle Ryan appeared behind them. "Come on, Barbie. You need to see a doctor for that, and you know it. Stop with the stubbornness."

If it were possible to kill a human with an angry glare, Ryan would have been dead several times over. "Don't call me that!" Barbara was so angry her face actually regained some of its color.

Uncle Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and steadily returned her gaze. "I will call you Barbie from here on out _unless_ you let one of us take you to the hospital right now. Go, get it stitched up, and you can come back here confident in the knowledge that I won't call you Barbie again after this."

Note #25

You will, on occasion, be bombarded by manipulative tactics via the people who know and love you best. This is a fact of life. Sometimes it may be beneficial to fight back, but at times, it will be easier to give the extortionist what they want. You can seek out your vengeance at a later date.

In a bizarre display that I couldn't have imagined before actually seeing it, Barbara crumpled. Every part of her body suddenly seemed to sag under an invisible weight. At first, I thought it was only Ryan's words getting to her and that she was about to agree to go to the hospital.

Nope.

Instead, she went boneless and dropped with a thud.

Note #26

Stubbornness can get the best of you. I'm not saying you should never be an obstinate pain in the butt, because that would be hypocritical of me, but you should be prepared for the fallout of things not going your way. The four most dreaded words in all of human history can, and likely will, be used against you: "I told you so."

Chapter 6

In which there is an ambulance, a welcome development regarding the food, and a blooming of morbid imagination.

"I told you so," my mom admonished as she held a legitimate ice pack against Aunt Barbara's forehead. The fall had unsurprisingly ended with a great smack of her head against the unforgiving patio, and now she was bleeding from two places.

The good news, I guess, was that she'd regained consciousness mere seconds afterwards. I mean, it was good news in that the head trauma itself seemed unlikely to be too severe. On the other hand, it meant she had to listen to my mom's lecture. I sympathized with her plight.

"If I could stand up right now, I'd make you pay for that," Barbara grumbled. She was leaning against the low stone wall that surrounded the patio. It had to be an uncomfortable position.

"You can worry about that later," Uncle Ryan said from his seat at the patio table. Patrick and Zeke were sitting there too, looking relatively somber for once, not that I could blame them. Carly and Matt were helping their mom retrieve the remnants of dinner from the grill.

Somehow, in the midst of the chaos, the food had crossed a line I never previously knew existed. My father had actually decided the food had crossed the line between edibility and inedibility. Granted, I was of the firm opinion that it had crossed that line long ago and had actually turned from animal to mineral, but hey, I was just glad he'd agreed to throw it out.

Everything seemed reasonably under control, though. I mean, it was crazy, but compared to other family gatherings in the past, it was still a fairly low-key kind of crazy. An ambulance had been called and was on its way, and my dad, in a sort of apology for screwing up dinner, had gone to collect a few pizzas to feed everyone. Tyler went with him, presumably to get away from Corey, who'd been attempting yet again to strike up a conversation.

Seth approved of the pizza decision whole-heartedly. "Now we don't have to creatively dodge your dad's food the same way people do with your great aunt Ruth Ann. It's funny that you always have to dodge awful food at these things."

Ah, yes. Great Aunt Ruth Ann's legend followed us everywhere, even to gatherings that involved my mom's side of the family. "My dad shares DNA with her, so should we really be surprised?"

While we all waited, Seth and I sat in a couple of lawn chairs, and Sophie settled under a tree nearby. "We knew someone was going to get hurt during this trip," she said.

I nodded. "Not to mention, we still have a little more than a day left. Anything could happen."

Note #27

While in the midst of a volatile situation, never assume the worst has already happened. One bad incident may remain isolated, or it may be the catalyst for more to follow. Or another entirely unrelated disaster may befall you. Who knows what can happen when dealing with family?

Sophie grinned. "And that's why I avoid everyone else."

This fact definitely made Sophie smart in my mind. That and, when we were younger, she looked up to me instead of her older siblings. This proved she had good taste and common sense.

"Just be vigilant," I warned.

The ambulance eventually arrived, delayed somewhat by our rural location. Aunt Barbara's wounds had almost stopped bleeding by then. The situation could have been far worse.

Note #28

Try not to fall under bombardment in remote locations. Injuries requiring immediate treatment can prove fatal when help is too far away.

The EMTs got Aunt Barbara patched up and loaded into the ambulance within a few minutes. Only one person was allowed to go with her, and since she had no significant other to fill that role, that left Mom, Uncle Ryan, Patrick, and Zeke looking at each other awkwardly. Sister vs. brother vs. son vs. son. I wondered how many of them wanted to go, and how many of them were silently hoping someone else was about to stand up and volunteer.

"I'll go," Uncle Ryan said. His voice was firm. He didn't sound reluctant at all.

The other three visibly relaxed, and I had my answer.

Note #29

Try to avoid situations where you'll be expected to volunteer for something you don't want to do, especially when family is involved. When it's family, not only will you be expected to step forward to perform unpleasant tasks, they'll also expect you to be happy to do it. Grumbling will seem ungrateful.

I think I know why Uncle Ryan volunteered. He'd come on this trip with his wife and three kids. Considering the alternative, a trip to the ER with his sister probably sounded like a vacation. Sure, my mom had me and Tyler to worry about, but Tyler was with Dad, and I was determinedly staying out of the way.

Then I remembered Corey. Mom was meant to be keeping an eye on Corey too, but I hadn't seen him for a while. Maybe I should have been concerned, but if I went to look for him, I'd be risking finding him and having to deal with him. Forget that!

Mom and Aunt Chloe set about cleaning the patio once the ambulance had gone. A garden hose works wonders for washing blood off solid surfaces. It was only after all traces of blood had gone that Corey emerged from the cabin, looking pale and shaky. He plopped down on a nearby lawn chair, and I made a concerted effort not to make eye contact with him.

Note #30

There are many methods of avoiding conversations with people you don't want to talk to. The best way is to maintain a healthy distance between you and the other person, but let's face it, that isn't always possible. When you're forced by cruel fate to be near someone you don't wish to engage with, don't look them in the eye. Don't even look at their face. Pretend to be busy with something else. You can also go for scare tactics and pretend to be psychotic or super pissed off.

When Dad and Tyler finally arrived with the pizzas, no one bothered to push the whole "family togetherness" thing. We were all too tired for that. People grabbed their food without fanfare, already far too hungry to waste time needlessly, and broke off into their own little groups. The adults headed off to sit by the beer cooler, The Fallible Four converged on their own spot near the grill, and Seth and I tried to find a private spot by the tree line.

"Your family gatherings are insane," Seth said.

"That they are. Remember, you could have spared yourself all of this. I couldn't." I paused with a slice of pizza halfway to my mouth. "At least I might have enough material to write another book."

He grinned. "What would you call it?"

I shrugged. "No idea yet. I'm sure I'll come up with something." I spotted Sophie a few yards away beneath a tree, book in one hand and her plate balanced on her knee. Tyler sat just beyond her, though they didn't appear to be interacting in any way. They had the kind of silent rapport of those who are fed up with everyone around them. " _How to Avoid Human Interaction and Why It's a Good Idea_ , perhaps?"

"That could be a useful guidebook. You certainly would have used it a lot if someone else had already written it," Seth teased.

"Don't be silly. I wouldn't have just used it. I would have had it memorized."

I imagined Sophie and Tyler would have happily made use of it too, and it would have served them particularly well in that moment as Corey made his way over to them. As far as I knew, Sophie and Corey had never met, and this lack of familiarity made her vulnerable. She didn't know what to expect from him. That much was clear since she smiled in greeting and motioned for him to sit down. Her disgust with company only applied to The Fallible Four, then.

"I feel like we should have warned her," I whispered.

"It seems wrong to just sit here and watch," Seth said. "Shouldn't we try to help her out?"

I've emphasized this before, and I'll emphasize it again. Never put yourself into the line of fire if you can help it. Sometimes you need to be a little bit selfish to survive these things. So yeah, I sat back, ready to observe while Corey did his thing.

I shook my head. "Maybe this is for the best. If we had tried to warn her, she might not have believed us. This way, we won't get sucked into that mess, and Sophie will learn a valuable lesson on her own. It's a tough lesson, but I survived it. Tyler survived it."

The younger brother in question had already quietly hopped to his feet and was covertly moving away from the danger zone. Tyler is a pest, but he's also an intelligent pest. While he still hasn't mastered the art of dealing with Grandma Pearl at Christmas, he's perfected the art of self-preservation when it comes to the younger members of the family. As long as he doesn't make me so angry that I'm forced to take action against him, he should continue to improve those skills. Perhaps he'll even learn to dodge grandmotherly hugs one day. I might even be proud of him when that day comes.

"Are you having fun?" Corey's opening question sounded unthreatening enough, but to those who know him, it's clear what kind of danger may lurk beneath such innocuous words. He was luring her in.

Sophie nodded. "Watching these people is entertaining enough, as long as I keep my distance. That was a fair bit of blood, though. I could have done without that."

"Nah, I've seen worse than that," Corey said with a wave of his hand.

It took everything I had to suppress a laugh.

"Weren't you inside the whole time?" Sophie asked. "You missed the most dramatic part."

"Well, I would have helped, but I was busy with something else. You know how it is."

Oh yeah, Corey. Most of us know how you are.

Sophie raised an eyebrow, and it seemed she was waiting for him to elaborate on that point. However, given that the point in question was utter BS and not at all conducive to achieving his goal, he quickly moved past it. "Anyway, the worst I ever saw happened when I was walking down the street one day, and this dude just lost it. He jumped on top of this girl and just started stabbing her with this butcher knife. It was crazy! Luckily, I've been in karate for years, and I was able to stay calm. I got into the zone, like you're supposed to do. The adrenaline was racing through me, and it was almost like I was the Hulk."

"More like he turned as green as the Hulk at the sight of all that blood," I murmured.

Even though Seth covered his mouth with his hand, he couldn't contain the snicker that left his shoulders shaking. This drew Sophie's attention momentarily, and she glanced over at us with a quizzical arch to her brow. She truly had that look down to an art. This only made me join in with the laughter, and that must have made us both look ridiculous, though I hardly cared. Sophie's eyes went wide at the sight of us before she turned back to hear the rest of Corey's tale.

". . . I had to hold back, of course, because I didn't want to kill the guy," he was saying. "Not when the guy was out cold and the girl was bleeding to death on the sidewalk. She was bleeding so bad that I had to reach inside the biggest wound and plug the hole in her artery with my finger. If I hadn't done that, there's no way she would have survived."

"It's a good thing lies aren't as toxic as Ruth Ann's cooking or your dad's grilling," Seth whispered. "If they were, there'd soon be a local legend about the Independence Day massacre that occurred here."

I grinned. "They'd make low budget horror films about us. People like you and me will get together to poke fun at the ludicrous premise and abysmal production value."

"Don't forget the bad acting," he added. "You know they'd cast the worst thirty-year-old actors in the world to play us."

"You bet they would. A story as bad as ours will only attract the cruddiest actors. They'd have to scrape the bottom of the barrel that is Hollywood entertainment to get the job done."

Soon things started winding down. My parents made a half-hearted offer to let us stay and hang out for a bit, but I didn't miss the fleeting look of relief that crossed Mom's face when we turned them down.

Note #31

It's crucial to recognize when someone's invitation is genuine, and when it's made out of a sense of obligation. Accidentally accepting an obligation invite will only make everyone miserable. The exception to this is accepting such an invitation with the sole purpose of making the one who issued the invitation as unhappy as possible. If that's the case, carry on.

Dad gave us the fixings for s'mores before we left for our cabin. He'd picked them up when he went to get the pizza. He was still apologizing for messing up dinner. As if he needed to apologize for the single greatest thing he could have done under the circumstances, but hey, who am I to complain about more food?

Chapter 7

In which there are s'mores and adult beverages, and I encounter a problem that could be my undoing.

To my surprise, my cousins displayed a certain level of competence when it came to roasting marshmallows. Maybe this shouldn't have shocked me, though. We can't all be good at everything, and it makes sense that the reverse would also be true. Even the most graceless goobers in the world can't be bad at everything. People also tend to master skills that bring them the most joy. For my dweeby cousins, this skill involved the preparation of unhealthy snack foods.

Right in the middle of the s'more snarfing festivities, my mom called to let me know that, while Uncle Ryan was on his way back via taxi, Aunt Barbara had to remain in the hospital.

"They might keep her for the next couple of days," Mom said. "She has a slight concussion from the fall, which on its own would be all right, but she's also dehydrated and exhausted. She's been so focused on everything _except_ taking care of herself that it was only a matter of time before she went down."

"She'll be okay, though. Right?"

"Yeah, she should be. She's already driving the nurses crazy with her insistence that she's just fine. She's been focused on being tough for so long, she doesn't know any other way to be." Mom sighed. "Hopefully she'll take the warning and slow down. She needs to rest. The blood loss was just the straw that broke the camel's back, in this case."

"Since this is a relatively serious situation, I'm guessing it would be inappropriate to critique you, the writer, for using such a clichéd phrase," I said.

Mom laughed softly. "Yeah, it would be. You're lucky I'm used to hearing inappropriate things from you. If I weren't, you'd be in a heap of trouble right now."

"Come on. You just don't want to punish me because I learned it from you." I glanced across the campfire that Seth and I had built (we didn't trust anyone else with the task) and saw that Patrick was separated slightly from the group as he talked on his own phone. He had to be getting an update from either his mom or Uncle Ryan. Seeing him and Zeke, who was absent-mindedly picking at a scab on his knee as he presumably listened in on what his brother was saying, I came to a horrifying realization. "Mom, if she ends up being in the hospital for a couple of days, how are Patrick and Zeke getting home? Because I've got to tell you, we won't have enough room to fit them on the luggage rack, and Uncle Ryan and Aunt Chloe can't be any better off."

Maybe that makes me sound like a terrible person, but Aunt Barbara wasn't in mortal danger, and it never hurts to think about practical issues.

"I'm not sure. Hopefully Barbara will let them drive her car back to the hospital and stay in town until she gets out. And if not, we'll deal with it when it happens."

I couldn't envision Barbara entrusting her car with either of her sons. I've seen them both operate four-wheelers and motor boats, and it never went well. Barbara also made a point to have and maintain a nice car, and putting them up in a hotel for any length of time would probably cost more than she wanted to pay.

I just hoped my fears would prove unwarranted.

Note #32

While it may not be a good idea to assume the worst, it is a good idea to have an idea of what the worst could possibly entail. Take into account any factors that may prove troublesome (i.e. crazy family members) and how they may affect the outcome.

After I ended the call with my mom, I sat next to Seth on a log that had been worn smooth by countless other visitors. He was casually sipping on a beer while he roasted a marshmallow. The Fallible Four were all on the opposite side of the fire. Corey sat alone to our left, and Tyler and Sophie sat to our right. When the time had come to choose seats, I'd watched Sophie with interest. With some clever maneuvering and purposely averted eyes, she landed a spot beside my brother. I'd never seen her go out of her way to talk to my brother, so I couldn't say whether she even liked him or not, but she clearly saw him as the better option. Or the lesser of two evils, at the very least. When two people who were never close before find common ground, anything can happen.

Seth offered me a beer, which I happily accepted. "You just want to get me drunk so I'll kiss you," I joked, referring to the night of our first kiss.

"And here I was thinking I'd been so clever."

I took a drink, the condensation on the bottle running back and wetting my chin in the process. "We all fall prey to that kind of illusion from time to time. Maybe in some bizarre parallel universe those illusions are actually true."

"As far as illusions go, the illusion of cleverness isn't too bad. I'll take it."

I leaned back slightly to stretch my tired muscles. Then in a hushed tone I told Seth, "Maybe there's a parallel universe where all of Corey's stories are actually true."

Seth gave a mock shudder. "Or maybe there's a parallel universe where we're mortal enemies." He pulled his marshmallow out of the fire and blew on it to cool it down.

I snorted. "That's already true if you wake me up too early in the morning."

"Or if I eat all the Oreos. Or if I take a picture of you spontaneously, or if I dunk you under the water when we're swimming . . ." He ticked off each item on his fingers as he listed it.

I nudged him with my shoulder. "Oh, there's a lot more than that. Would you like me to give you the complete list?"

Seth gave me a mischievous grin as he plucked the marshmallow from the stick. He tossed back his head as if preparing to eat it, then . . . promptly stuffed it in my mouth.

Note #33

If you're like me and seek every opportunity to assault people with snarky comments, you can expect them to occasionally find creative ways to shut you up. It's important to react in a way that doesn't make you look like a complete dork.

With as much of a grin as I could manage, I sucked the marshmallow the rest of the way into my mouth and crunched down on it, savoring the contrast between the crispy golden brown exterior and the warm gooiness of the interior. After several long seconds, I successfully swallowed it and stuck my tongue out at my boyfriend, who was laughing hysterically at that point. "You may think you're amusing, sir, but I got the better end of the deal. That marshmallow was delicious!"

Then I, like the dork I am, joined Seth in his laughter. My shoulders shook so hard that a few drops of my beer landed on my shoes. Everyone else stared at us like we were raving lunatics. As if they had room to talk.

Sophie called it a night first. She's a night owl like me, so I suspected she just needed some quiet time away from our rowdy group. The Fallible Four were in the middle of sharing gross-out stories involving escapades with friends, and I was tempted to run for it too. If I didn't have Seth there to keep me entertained, I definitely would have bolted.

It also didn't help that the cabin didn't have enough bedrooms to accommodate all of us. Nine people in a cabin with four bedrooms could never be considered an ideal situation. To make matters worse, The Fallible Four had beaten us there due to the detour we needed to take for Corey, and they'd each deposited their things to claim a room for themselves. All four rooms were gone. I'd have given them a harder time about refusing to share a room with anyone if it weren't for the fact that you couldn't pay me enough to bunk with any one of them.

Note #34

Never, under any circumstances, allow anyone you don't trust access to you while you are sleeping. That's when you are at your most vulnerable, and after hearing enough horror stories surrounding sleepovers, I know that it's dangerous enough trusting your so-called friends. Anyone who has any reason to wish you harm should certainly be kept at bay during periods of unconsciousness.

Tyler bailed out rather quickly after that without more than a brief nod to the group. He didn't go straight to the cabin, instead opting to head for the trees. I'd gone in search of solitude in a similar way many times, so in this one regard, I could relate to my bratty younger brother. That didn't mean I didn't still have revenge to plot against him for various infractions, though. I had yet to repay him for his shenanigans at Christmas.

Some of the best revenge plots take time to unfold.

After I finished my second beer, I motioned toward the cabin. "I'm ready to call it a night. I want to be alert tomorrow, because we can't afford to let our guard down."

Seth smiled and finished his drink in one large gulp.

Inside the darkened cabin, the flickering firelight playing though the windows provided the only source of light. Sophie had claimed the recliner in one corner of the main room. She was stretched out and wrapped in a quilt, her face invisible. Either she was sound asleep or doing an excellent job of acting like it.

The good part of Sophie's sleeping choice was that it left the large sectional sofa in the center of the room unclaimed. I snagged some blankets from the well-stocked linen closet and made a nest for myself on one section while Seth did the same on the other. When we lay down, we faced each other, our heads resting where the two sections joined.

The quilt I'd grabbed for myself smelled like fabric softener, having been freshly laundered in preparation for our arrival. The sofa's throw pillow was hard, and the rough material scratched my cheek. The scent of the campfire clung to us both, and I took a deep breath, oddly comforted by it.

"This is kind of nice," I said, my words scarcely louder than the backdrop of nightly sounds.

Seth's eyes glittered in the faint light, and though I couldn't see his smile, I heard it in his words. "It is. Too bad it isn't just the two of us."

I couldn't argue with that.

* * *

There's this moment of disorientation when you wake up in a place other than your own home, especially when you don't even have the advantage of a proper bed. The mental fog clears gradually, lingering longer than normal because you don't have familiar surroundings to help guide you back into the conscious world.

I also didn't have my irritating alarm clock to rip me from my sleep. What I did have was a serenade of snores. I instantly recognized Tyler's sharp, buzz saw tones. A cursory glance found him asleep on the floor beneath the window seat. Corey was bedded down in a pile of blankets on the other side of the room. His snore was high-pitched and quieter than Tyler's.

"I feel like I slept on a bed of nails last night." Seth's voice startled me. When I looked over, his face was still half buried in his pillow, his ruffled hair falling over his visible eye.

"Are you some kind of spoiled brat? Do you need a top-of-the-line plush mattress and someone to fluff your pillows?"

"Hmm. I don't _need_ it, but it would be nice."

Even though I'd teased him, the night on the sofa had left me stiff all over as well. I could only imagine how bad it would be if I'd been forced to sleep on the hardwood floor.

Rising from the sofa, I stretched, the sounds of my back popping probably audible to everyone in the room hovering anywhere near consciousness. Then I grabbed my things and made a beeline for the bathroom. If you read my first book, then you understand the value of getting to a bathroom in a timely manner while sharing space with too many people.

And yay! I reached the bathroom and found it unoccupied. I gratefully stepped inside and locked the door behind me. Wrapped up in my moment of triumph, it took me a few moments to notice a distinctly unpleasant odor. If you've ever been to a boisterous party and visited the restroom toward the end of the night, you'll know the odor I'm talking about.

The cause was obvious enough. Chunks of vomit had congealed on the toilet seat, and streaks of it ran down the sides and onto the floor.

"Lovely."

Weighing my options, I decided it would be simpler to do my morning business with the toilet seat up. The last thing I wanted to do was clean up the evacuated contents of someone else's stomach, especially without any coffee first.

Note #35

Intoxicated people are notoriously bad at calculating the trajectory of their own bodily fluids. Beware this fact lest your poor, unsuspecting feet tread upon something icky.

The state of the bathroom gave me the motivation to get ready quickly. By the time I reemerged, Sophie was waiting for her turn. I patted her on the shoulder. "I'm not sure what happened in there last night. All I can say is good luck. You're going to need it."

A look of mild horror crossed her face, but she soldiered on. Sophie truly is a brave girl, even if it is only by necessity.

If only I'd known how brave I would need to be before walking into the kitchen.

The problem wasn't immediately apparent. After all, no one had blown chunks all over the counter, and other than a few wrappers lying about, the space was unmarred. I stepped up to the counter where, in previous years, I'd found a coffee pot and filters. I'd brought my own stash of coffee, knowing that it would help me function as a somewhat rational human being.

All thoughts of rationality fled when I was greeted only by empty counter space. I quickly swept my eyes about the room, but the horror of the situation began to sink in.

The coffee pot was gone.

Don't you dare tell me that it's not a big deal. We all have our crutches that help us get through hard times. Coffee is one of mine. Writing about the things that irritate me is another. The problem with writing, though, is that I can't really do it without the caffeine influx. I truly admire anyone that can, because I don't see how it's physically possible.

I shuffled back to the main room. Seth had changed clothes, though his hair clearly hadn't yet seen the benefit of a brush. He was sprawled across half the sofa, one of his long legs draped over the back while the other foot rested on the floor. He caught my eye and I knew what he was going to ask before the words left his mouth. "How long until coffee?"

That had been one of the selling points of this excursion. I'd interspersed stories of ridiculous cousin-created antics with reassurances that the elixir of life would also be readily available. Now the inexplicable absence of a coffee pot had made a liar out of me.

I collapsed beside him, crossing my arms in front of my chest like the disgruntled, overdramatic teenager I was feeling like at the moment. "Coffee isn't coming." I provided him with a Peter Jacksonesque retelling of my quest to make coffee, followed by a detailed description of what I planned to do to anyone who dared cross me in the aftermath of this revelation.

Seth watched me with an odd air of calm. When I'd finished speaking, he shrugged. "Maybe your family's insanity will keep our adrenaline levels high enough for us to stay awake."

I paused to consider the company we were keeping, and I had to admit it might actually be enough.

Chapter 8

In which I embark on a grand quest and celebrate my victory with a watery excursion.

"That's a sorry sight." I looked at the scene before me, feeling a distinct twinge of irritation stirring. The campfire had died, only a couple of faint pinpricks of dull orange light indicating lingering heat. Matt was flat on his back beside it, his mouth hanging halfway open, his shirt riding up slightly. A trickle of drool had left a damp trail down his cheek. Zeke was passed out not far away, only he was on his stomach, half his face pressed into the dirt.

Seth's brow furrowed in concern. "Are they alive?"

Hmm. In the midst of my frustration, I hadn't even thought to check that. There were enough stories of excess leading to early demise that it should have occurred to me.

Kneeling down beside them, I spared a quick moment to look them over. "They're breathing." I stood up again. "I've done my duty."

Seth shook his head. "Well, I have the feeling they're going to wake up feeling like death."

"I sure hope so. They both had a bedroom claimed only for themselves, and while we slept on the sofa, they were out here communing with nature." My voice may have been laced with an unhealthy level of bitterness, but I didn't care.

I saw the exact moment when Seth realized the full implications of this. His features hardened into a frown, and he glared down at my cousins. "We could have had a bedroom all to ourselves last night. We could have slept in an actual bed." He clenched his hands into fists. "Can I kick them? I want to kick them."

Note #36

Even the most laid-back person has their breaking point. Those who are not prone to violence can still be driven to it. When you're dealing with hormonal teenagers and lost opportunities for privacy, you can hardly be surprised when such hostile feelings arise.

"I'm tempted to say yes, but I'm not sure I want to risk waking them either. I think I'd rather go for a walk. There's a small convenience store about a mile from here that serves coffee."

He nodded. "Sounds good to me. Let's go."

The slight chill of morning was nearly gone as the July sun rose higher above the tree line. We got onto a rocky path that wound lazily around the lake. Voices carried across the water as people started setting up with their fishing poles, tackle boxes, and coolers. In another couple of hours, the swimming area would be filling with people too.

These were the moments I enjoyed. Those moments of relative silence, where the background noise made for a pleasant ambiance rather than an overwhelming distraction. Especially when my morning routine had been disrupted in such a brutal way.

When Seth took my hand, I couldn't help smiling a little. Despite the unfortunate start to the morning, I was feeling pretty good.

"So, do you think there will be any more trips to the hospital tonight?" Seth asked.

I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe something even more dramatic will happen tonight."

He shook his head. "I doubt things could be much more dramatic than that whole debacle."

Note #37

When you're deep in enemy territory and surrounded by hostile elements, never tempt the universe to act against you by saying that things can't get any worse or any variation thereof. Regardless of whether you're superstitious or not, just don't do it.

Things did seem to be improving, because the convenience store had plenty of fresh coffee. They also had some reasonably fresh breakfast sandwiches available. Seth got a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit, and I got a ham, egg, and cheese croissant. After paying for our feast, we found a bench by a stand of trees and settled in to eat.

I took a bite of my sandwich and groaned. "I know people like to complain about gas station food, but I don't care. I kind of love it."

"Especially pizza," Seth said. "I've yet to have a bad slice of gas station pizza."

"Now that you've said that, the next slice of gas station pizza you eat is going to give you food poisoning."

"Well, as long as it still tastes good, it might be worth it."

I snickered. "At least food poisoning would leave us with a less disgusting bathroom than we woke up to this morning. What do you think the odds are that one of the culprits will clean up their mess?"

"About the same odds that the rest of this trip is going to be uneventful, I'd say. Besides, it may be best that they stay away from the bathroom. If one of them tried to clean they'd probably make it worse."

"Definitely." Granted, I couldn't think of any plausible ways in which they could inflict further damage, but I still had full faith in their destructive capabilities. "We may be spending the day making use of nature's facilities or hunting down public restrooms." Several were scattered about the lake, so that was something.

"Oh my," Seth said softly.

"What?" I was greeted by a look of mild disappointment.

"Unlike gas station pizza, not all gas station coffee is palatable." Despite his grimace, he took another sip.

I understood this seemingly odd behavior. The need for caffeine can override protesting taste buds. I was in the same boat myself, so I took my own sip of coffee, too relieved to have something fortifying me to care.

By the time we made it back to the cabin, after taking multiple detours down various paths through the woods and surrounding the lake, the sun was beating down on us mercilessly. The temperature had climbed even more quickly than I thought it would.

We passed the fire pit, and Matt and Zeke were nowhere to be seen. They must have limped away from their dirt beds at some point while we were gone.

"I vote that we go swimming," Seth said as we stepped inside.

"Sounds good to me. Let's get ready and go now before we run into anyone." The cabin was quiet for the moment, yes, but I didn't know how long that would last.

I returned to the soiled restroom to don my swimming suit, and just as I'd suspected, no one had done a thing to clean it. It seemed everyone was taking the "it's not my problem" approach to the issue, and who could say if the person responsible for the mess even remembered making it in the first place?

When I returned to the living room, Seth had already changed. Perhaps he wasn't as concerned about the possibility of one of my cousins walking in on him. Or maybe he simply felt avoiding the bathroom was worth the risk.

I grabbed a bottle of sunscreen from my bag and started slathering it on. "This honestly feels like living in a frat house."

He took a handful of sunscreen and began rubbing it onto his arms. "As if you've been anywhere near a frat house."

"Not yet, but I've seen enough movies to have an idea of what it's like. And enough parties, for that matter. Maybe this trip will be valuable survival training for college."

Seth smiled. "Do you think movies exaggerate the experience, or are they an accurate portrayal?"

"I don't know. If they are accurate, we may have to steer clear for safety reasons. Although a crazy party might make for good book material." If I managed to leave with all my brain cells intact, anyway.

"Can you help me get some of this on my back?" Seth asked.

"Sure." I took another generous blob of sunscreen and started on the area around his shoulder blades. I tried not to focus on how the muscles moved beneath my hands or how warm his skin was. That kind of distraction could prove awkward during a family gathering. Never mind the fact that we didn't have any solid plans to get together as a group until dinnertime. I still didn't want to risk giving my dad more reasons to glare at my boyfriend.

Note #38

Try not to let raging teenage hormones get in the way of your thought processes. When your family may potentially intercept you at any time, you don't want to do anything that might lead to compromising situations.

"Are you nervous about starting college?" he asked as I worked my way down his back. He had a spray of freckles along his spine that had grown more prominent with exposure to the summer sun.

"A little, I suppose. It's strange to think about being out on my own." This wasn't an easy thing to admit, but I knew I could tell Seth the truth.

"You won't be on your own. I'll be around, pestering you incessantly. Even if you end up having a crazy roommate or end up buried under a tower of homework, I'll be there for you."

That made me smile. I knew it was true. When we'd realized years back that we both wanted to go to the same school, we'd promised to have each other's backs at social events and during all-night study sessions. All of this was determined long before we started dating. Now that the nature of our relationship had changed, we were also looking forward to the privacy that came from living on our own.

The sound of something breaking and the high-pitched laugh that followed reminded us both that privacy was something we currently lacked. The sound came from somewhere out back, and I hoped that left a viable escape route through the front door.

"Good." I finished applying the sunscreen and wiped the excess on my thighs. "That means I'll be around to keep you out of trouble. Or get you into trouble. Whichever strikes my fancy."

* * *

The swimming area was packed with bodies. This was hardly a surprise. The 4th of July holiday attracted a lot of people, and when the weather was suitable for it, they flocked to the water in droves.

Seth and I chose the area that appeared to be the least densely populated and stepped into the water. "Least densely populated" is a relative term, of course. A beach ball being tossed between two kids went wild and bounced off the side of my head. I shook it off, purposely ignoring Seth's amused grin.

Note #39

Crowded swimming areas contain many dangers, both hidden and obvious. Keeping your eye out for some of the most obvious ones will afford you some protection. Flying toys and overly energetic kids number among these. Fortunately, the flying toys are often inflatable and seldom do much damage. Aside from humiliation, that is.

"Apparently I'm a target." I whipped my head around to ascertain whether any other threats loomed. "They're following me. Nowhere is safe!"

Happy to play along with the melodrama, Seth grabbed my hand and pulled me after him, parallel to the shore. "Come along, fair maiden! I will rescue you from the dastardly fiends!"

I snorted. "Fair maiden? They've really lowered the standards for what qualifies as a fair maiden these days, haven't they?"

"They've lowered the standards all around," Seth said. "The fact that I qualify to rescue fair maidens in distress proves that."

I shook my head. "That just means we're two of a kind. I can think of worse things."

We ended up finding a small inlet that was somewhat obscured by weeds and tall grass. The water there had a bit of algae floating in it, but it was worth the little bit of privacy it afforded us.

"Do you think we're safe here? Our attackers are only a few feet away," I said with a smirk.

"I'm willing to take the risk and hang out here for a little while." He leaned forward and kissed me, his hands resting on my lower back.

"You just wanted to see some skin, you perv." Not that I had anything against seeing some skin from time to time. Skin, in fact, can be pretty great.

He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed my body. "I could stand to see a little bit more, yeah. I'm not going to lie about that."

I knew what he was getting at. I'd always worn a one-piece suit rather than a bikini like most of the girls I know. Maybe a part of me did feel self-conscious about my body. I'm a teenage girl, for crying out loud. Mostly, though, I can't have a good time when it feels like various parts of my body are about to fall out. I'm not judging anyone for their choice in swimwear, of course. To each their own.

"You have the body to pull off a bikini, you know." Seth was clearly trying to sound casual about the idea. Not like most hetero guys of eighteen years of age can be truly casual about the thought of a girl in a bikini.

I looked him up and down in return, noting the way his bright orange trunks reached past his knees. "And you have the body to pull off a speedo. What's your point?"

His eyes bugged out of his head. "I, um . . . disagree. Anyway, you don't see a lot of guys running around beaches in speedos."

I shrugged. "Not in this country, anyway. So you're saying you want me to show more skin because the other girls do?"

"No. I want you to show more skin because you're hot."

Whether or not I fully understood how he'd come to that conclusion, I had no doubt that he meant what he said. "Same here! I'll do it if you do!"

Seth shuddered. "No. How about this? Skin is aerodynamic. I'm just trying to help you swim better."

I shook my head. "Actually, one-piece suits are aerodynamic. That's why a lot of female competitive swimmers wear one-pieces. Plenty of the men, however, wear speedos." I may have been sporting a wicked grin by that point.

"Forget it." Seth sounded defeated. "I don't know why I start these things with you. You always win."

"It's a gift." Then I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned close to his ear. "If it's skin you want, though, we could sneak out to go skinny dipping after everyone goes to sleep."

He groaned. "Please tell me you're not joking."

"No joke. Just don't irritate me and it'll happen."

"Dang it," Seth said. "That'll be tough. And even if I manage to be nothing but charming, we'll probably be thwarted by a freak thunderstorm."

"Well, I can't control the weather, can I?"

Now for a quick side note. If I ever do figure out how to control the weather, I will not be writing a self-help book about it. I don't care how much money I could make off of something like that. The results would be too disastrous. Sure, there'd be little annoyances like your neighbor purposely whipping up some rain while you're trying to have a barbeque. There would also be the possible repercussions of so many people warring for a particular kind of weather. The entire ecological balance of the planet could be thrown out of whack. Or perhaps one government might decide to employ such tactics to cause a massive drought in an enemy nation, leading to the deaths of tens of thousands of people. That's heavy stuff. It's more responsibility than I want to bear.

And yes, I'm aware this sounds rich coming from someone whose first book was a how-to guide about achieving world domination. The irony is strong with me.

We stayed in the water for more than an hour, splashing and swimming and generally having a good time. There were a few under-the-water gropes, albeit brief, and those were usually followed by a quick chase through the crowd.

There's nothing wrong with having a good time. I encourage it, in fact. Nevertheless, getting too caught up in the moment can dull your senses. This is especially dangerous when you're in a crowded area that can be hazardous even without said rowdy crowd.

We weren't far from shore, and I had to bend my knees slightly to remain submerged up to my shoulders. We were playing a modified version of the classic game "I Spy" in which we used odd descriptions such as ugly, irritating, or ironic rather than traditional descriptions. I'd just said, "I spy with my little eye . . . something hypocritical" when something slammed into my back. The next thing I knew, I'd lost my footing and I had a mouthful of gritty water.

Note #40

Abrupt changes in circumstance can really catch you off guard, and in the wrong environment this can prove deadly. It's important not to panic (easier said than done, I know), because you don't want to die in an idiot-induced accident, do you? That could be embarrassing. Except, as the dead person in question, you probably wouldn't feel all that embarrassed, would you? That being said, I still stand by my original point.

I won't lie. I wasn't fully able to fight off the panic as I tried to reorient myself, my lungs burning for air.

Chapter 9

In which I manage not to die, I see some worrisome signs of things to come, and my already odd family exhibits some strange behavior.

I chose an odd chapter break. If this book were a work of fiction written in the 3rd person, this sort of thing would be called a cliffhanger. In that case, you'd have good reason to be concerned for my safety. That's assuming, of course, that you find me to be a likeable character, and I'll admit this may not be a safe assumption to make.

As it is, I've written this account of my own personal experiences, so you know I survived this. Unless I found a way to haunt an empty notebook so I could write this from beyond the grave. Or perhaps someone close to me decided to write this so they could profit from my untimely demise. Neither of these bizarre scenarios is true, by the way. I actually did survive this. Any of you who are disappointed by this fact can feel free to bite me.

So there I was, only just realizing that I'd been submerged with something rather large on my back weighing me down. I tried to roll out from under it, but my predicament made maneuvering difficult. The panic I'd already begun to feel tightened its grip on me, and I flailed my arms and legs in a desperate attempt to dislodge whatever was holding me down.

Then suddenly, it was gone. Within seconds I'd made my way back to the surface and violently ejected all of the nasty water I'd nearly inhaled. Still spluttering, I saw Seth, who had a grip on the upper arm of a girl not much younger than me. I pieced together that she'd landed on me, and he'd pulled her off.

This girl's pink bikini was so bright that it almost hurt my eyes to look at it, so it astonished me that I hadn't seen her coming. What astonished me more, though, was the glare she pinned me with. "Maybe you should watch out next time!" she declared before wrenching her arm from Seth's grasp and stalking off, which is kind of an impressive feat in the water.

"What?" I was too stunned to say anything else, and my boyfriend just stared after her with a baffled expression.

Note #41

Some people can't admit that they've screwed up in any way, and in order to maintain the illusion of their own infallibility, they'll assert some crazy things. They'll spin the facts in any way they can to make it look as though someone else is to blame. It will take every ounce of strength you have to refrain from punching them in their smug face. You need to practice this kind of saint-like restraint, because you'll be bombarded by these kinds of jerks your entire life.

When Seth turned his attention toward me, his forehead was creased with worry. "Are you all right?"

I took the first deep breath I'd been able to pull off and nodded. "You know, I've been told that I'm too cynical about people, and there are times I almost think that might be true. Then someone always comes along and confirms my lowest opinion of humanity, and I'm like, no, I was right."

He grinned. "Well, let's cement those low opinions by going to see what your cousins are doing."

* * *

"I can't quite figure out what they're planning," Seth said.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good." I stared at the two opposing walls that had been built up with tipped-over picnic tables and logs. They were about thirty feet apart and each stood a bit higher than my waist and were about ten feet long. The haphazard structures and the ground surrounding them were soaking wet.

Sophie looked up from her book. She sat with her back against a nearby tree. "It's never good with them. I'm just impressed they got their hands on any spare picnic tables."

I shook my head. "I'm sure they weren't concerned with using honest methods of procuring them. Do you know what they're up to now?"

She shrugged. "They said they were going on a supply run."

My mind flooded with images of potential disaster. After a few moments, I shook my head at the futility of it all. There wasn't any way to predict how events would unfold, and I didn't want to waste too much time worrying about it. "Come on. I want to get changed and figure out some lunch."

Though it was technically well past lunchtime, one of the best parts of the holiday was the luxury of being lazy with scheduling. We made some quick sandwiches using deli meat and cheese that my parents had packed for us, then spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on a small, unoccupied stretch of beach not far from the cabin.

"Are you feeling okay?" Seth asked shortly after we sat down.

Note #42

After something dramatic happens, you can expect some people to subject you to constant check-ins. The questions "are you okay?" or "is there anything I can do to help?" may get irritating before long. Just remember that people ask because, for some crazy reason, they care about you. Try not to screw that up.

My throat was still feeling a bit irritated, but it wasn't that bad. "Yeah. I'm good. The fantasies of revenge have made me feel much better."

"I'm glad to hear it."

If anything proved that all was well with me, it was my dedication to plotting revenge.

* * *

My mom texted me an hour beforehand to remind me about dinner at their cabin. As if I could have forgotten. We'd dodged the bullet the night before with pizza, but I feared we wouldn't get away so unscathed a second time.

I texted her back, making the obligatory inquiry about Aunt Barbara. The response I got was oddly perfunctory.

Still in hospital. Feeling better. Not sure when she'll be out.

When it came to family health issues, I could typically expect a far more detailed response than that. It's part of her storytelling nature. Maybe even that was on vacation.

"We should get going now," I said hesitantly. "We don't want to be late for the circus that is family dinner, do we?"

Seth's features twisted with concern. "Normally I'd say no, but I'm not so sure right now."

"Never be sure of anything," I said. "It's safer to distrust everyone and everything."

He gave me a lopsided grin. "Does that include you?"

"Distrust everyone _except_ me."

"That's exactly what an untrustworthy person would say."

Seth and I got to the adults' cabin before The Fallible Four, and for a few minutes I lived in the hope that they'd gotten lost somewhere and weren't returning. Not nice of me, I know. Sophie was, once again, curled up with a book, this time in a lawn chair. That, as it turned out, was going to be the only piece of normalcy.

The first thing that seemed peculiar was the fact that Tyler and Corey were sitting together on the steps that led from the patio to the grassy rear yard. In the past, this meant that Corey managed to corner my brother and he'd yet to orchestrate his escape. However, that wouldn't have explained why Tyler was smiling.

Then it got worse.

Corey said something, and Tyler laughed.

I nudged Seth and whispered, "Did we accidentally enter _The Twilight Zone_ or something?"

His eyes were wide. "We must have. That's the only logical explanation."

I sighed. "Oh well. Maybe we'll get to eat good food again, if that's the case." I still gave Tyler and Corey a wide berth, though. One can't be too careful about strange behavior.

Note #43

When someone you know is acting out of the ordinary, proceed with caution. They may require an intervention, and you should never insert yourself into that mix without an idea of what you're dealing with and the kinds of bizarre behavior you might be able to anticipate in the future.

The next thing I noticed was the grill. Instead of a nice hot fire with food sizzling away until it has passed the point of recognition, it was cold. No food items had been destroyed there since the previous evening.

"Hmm. I thought we were having dinner," I said, scanning the area to get the lay of the land. "Yet I don't see any signs of said dinner. Do you?"

"Other than empty beer bottles?" Seth asked, pointing to the small trash can set up between two lawn chairs. It was indeed overflowing with empty beer bottles. Though such a sight wasn't all that unusual for the 4th of July, there did seem to be a few more of them than was typical for this time of day.

"I doubt they were planning on a liquid dinner for us, even if that's what they had in mind for themselves." I turned to Sophie. "Hey, do you know where everyone is?"

She looked up from her book and shrugged. "No idea. I haven't seen anyone. I just sat down to wait because I figured that was what I was supposed to do. I've only been here a few minutes, though."

"You know, horror movies start out like this," I said in the most sinister tone I could muster. "The adults disappear, leaving only a bunch of teenagers to fend for themselves in the woods. Bloodshed ensues, and for many years and sequels to come, the horror will return for a fresh batch of victims."

Sophie smiled. "If it's like a horror movie, then we'll be able to linger as ghosts and torment the living. That could actually be fun."

"Winter would be a bit of a drag," Seth said. "No one to pester."

"Then again, people get annoying after a bit," I added. "The peace and quiet could make for a nice break."

Our philosophical ruminations were interrupted by the cabin's front door opening and Uncle Ryan stepping outside.

I looked at Sophie. "No one checked inside, then?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I just wanted to read."

I nodded. "That's a good enough explanation for me."

Upon closer inspection, Uncle Ryan wasn't so much walking toward us as swaying. He had a glass in hand, and though the liquid inside it looked like cola, I doubted the cola was flying solo.

"Hey guys," Uncle Ryan said, a huge grin showing off a mouthful of teeth. He swept his eyes across the patio. "It doesn't look like everyone's here. Who are we missing?"

"Um, your kids, for starters," I said.

He did a double-take. "Sophie's here."

"Yes, but you have two more." He clearly needed prompting.

Uncle Ryan paused for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought. "Oh, yeah. Matt, and, um, Carly. Have you seen them?"

"Not since this morning, and I only saw Matt." I decided the exact details of that sighting were unnecessary. "We all went our separate ways, but I think they're probably with Patrick and Zeke."

"And I can guarantee they've been stirring up some kind of trouble," Sophie said.

Uncle Ryan shrugged and took a drink. "Hopefully they'll be here soon. They won't want to miss dinner."

I quirked an eyebrow. "I assume there's some kind of food, then? I haven't seen any evidence of food."

"That's because it's in the kitchen. You know, where food usually is." Uncle Ryan said this as if I'd just sustained some kind of head injury, even though he was the one wobbling like he suffered from that very affliction.

Note #44

Intoxicated people require a lot of patience when you're sober. Part of the irritation you feel in dealing with them may stem from your own desire to be as uninhibited as they are. Part of it may also be due to the fact that you have to deal with idiotic rambling, stumbling, and the possibility of bodily fluids being ejected at any moment. That's not even getting into the amount of hassle involved if the person in question passes out. Just remember that, regardless of whether you've ever been intoxicated or not, you've likely been equally irritating at some point in your life. It's part of human nature.

"Silly me. How could I have forgotten?" I said, the sarcastic edge to my words apparent to everyone but my uncle.

"We're all a bit silly sometimes. It's okay," Uncle Ryan said with a radiant smile.

Seth had his hand over his mouth, his whole body shaking.

Sophie just rolled her eyes and closed her book. "I suppose we should go get some food, then."

We followed my uncle inside, and though Tyler and Corey hadn't seemed to be paying attention to anything we were saying, they got up and followed suit. As they approached, I heard more laughter, and I also caught a snippet of their conversation.

"Invisibility would definitely be the best power to have," Tyler was saying. "You could sneak into any place you want and stay hidden for as long as you need. If you got into trouble, you could just disappear. Not to mention the fact that you could scare the crap out of people."

"That would be handy, but I'd rather do mind control," Corey said. "Imagine it. You could make people do whatever you want."

"That sounds a bit creepy, but it could be useful," Tyler conceded.

Yeah, mind control would be a bit creepy, and I had to wonder if that was what I was seeing at play. Was I facing a situation where I'd need to assemble a kickass team to help me rescue my little brother from the clutches of my nefarious cousin? And if so, would allowing him to remain under Corey's control without aid constitute an adequate form of revenge for his Christmas transgressions? Or would it be too cruel?

The kitchen did contain food. The ingredients for sub sandwiches were scattered across the counter in a haphazard manner, and there were multiple bags of chips. I also noted a coffee pot, though coffee was depressingly absent.

"Unconventional, but I guess it'll do," I said as I grabbed a paper plate from one end of the arrangement.

"After seeing what working too hard did to Barbara, we decided to take it easy on her behalf." Uncle Ryan's explanation was followed by a trip to the refrigerator to grab another beverage.

Both of my parents sat with Aunt Chloe at the table, where they were eating and playing cards. "Hey kids," my dad said without looking away from the game.

"Hey," Seth and I said in unison. We looked at each other, silently acknowledging that it only added to the unsettling nature of the evening.

"At least he isn't casting me the death glare," Seth whispered as we loaded our plates with food.

"That is a good thing. I'd still be vigilant, though."

Note #45

You can look for the silver lining in a bad situation, but don't let your guard down entirely. The good that may arise in any given circumstance doesn't prevent all the bad things that can still happen when you're not looking.

Seth, Sophie, and I all sat in the remaining chairs at the kitchen table. We'd only been eating for a couple of minutes when the sound of something shattering and a string of curse words floated through the open window.

"Rejoice, the buffoons have arrived," I mumbled.

Sophie giggled and nearly choked on her sandwich.

Chapter 10

In which the grand finale of the evening puts to shame every fireworks display in the region.

The obligatory meal ended at a reasonable time. While Christmas with one side of the family had been about forcing everyone together so we all had to suffer equally, this holiday was all about going our separate ways so we could attempt to have fun. Normally that would have been a desirable thing, but I still had to contend with The Fallible Four.

On the long walk back to our cabin, The Fallible Four had self-satisfied grins on their faces that I didn't find all too reassuring.

Note #46

Beware smug expressions when worn by untrustworthy people. Any number of hazardous things may soon be coming your way.

By the time we got back, the sky had grown dark, and someone was setting off fireworks on the other side of the lake. The golds, reds, blues, and greens glittered on the water. If it weren't for the presence of my relatives, it might have been a romantic scene.

Nothing, however, feels romantic when you're overwhelmed by the sense of impending doom.

"Let's set everything up!" Patrick called out.

The ringleader had spoken, and the rest buzzed with feverish excitement.

"What are you guys planning, anyway?" Tyler asked, his eyes alight with intrigue.

Maybe I should have been the good big sister and immediately urged Tyler to stay away from whatever they had planned, but I was too curious about Patrick's answer.

"We're just going to play with some fireworks we acquired today," Patrick replied with a grin.

Sophie's eyes widened comically. "These things never end well. You guys know that, right?"

Carly laughed. "At worst, Matt will get hurt again, but he's used to it by now. Aren't you, Matt?"

"Yeah, I have to live with two sisters. That's painful enough," Matt said.

Carly smacked Matt in the shoulder. "Watch it, or you might find yourself on the receiving end of friendly fire."

Oh dear. I always thought the term "friendly fire" was ridiculous anyway. Sure, I know what it means, but I don't care if it's coming from someone who's supposed to be on your side in any given conflict. If they're shooting you, there is nothing friendly about that.

Coming from Carly, though, the threat seemed real. The glint in her eye proved that, public allegiances aside, she considered whatever was to follow as every man and woman for themselves. I made a mental note that, while I wouldn't go out of my way to become her ally, I'd certainly avoid crossing her.

I caught a glimpse of Patrick and Zeke by one of the haphazardly erected walls. They were dividing a bunch of long, cylindrical items from grocery bags into two separate piles. I shuddered when I recognized what they were.

Roman candles.

I love Roman candles, don't get me wrong. I just don't love the idea of what they can do in the wrong hands. "See that, Seth? I told you yesterday. These cousins are about to demonstrate how natural selection works."

"I think I want to select a place far away from them and what they're doing," Seth said.

Sophie had already gotten the same idea and was heading off in the direction of the lake. We passed Tyler and Corey, who'd set themselves up in a couple of patio chairs, positioned for ideal viewing. They wanted to see whatever was about to go down.

Note #47

I understand that curiosity is a powerful force, and on the whole, it's been the driving force behind plenty of wonderful discoveries. However, curiosity is not always so beneficial. It can also result in some pretty horrific accidents.

"You know, so many strange things have happened on this trip, maybe life will decide to take a weird turn and nothing bad will happen," I said as we walked. "Maybe this insanely stupid fireworks stunt will result in nothing more than a little singed hair."

"It's possible, but I also know our luck," Seth muttered.

I couldn't refute his point. Our luck wasn't all that reassuring. "Either way, we just have to survive tonight. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

Note #48

Don't assume things will be okay just because time is almost up. Things tend to go wrong at the last minute. I'm not superstitious or anything, but I think people tend to drop their guard and take bigger risks as events come to a close.

The three of us stopped by some trees, making sure to keep The Fallible Four within view. Just because we needed some distance didn't mean we could risk remaining ignorant of what they were doing.

I shook my head as I watched Carly and Matt crouch behind their wall. Though I could also see Patrick and Zeke's own slipshod fortress, I couldn't see any more of them than an occasional hand or foot poking out.

"Ready your weapons!" Patrick's voice rang out across the yard.

"We're more ready than you are!" Carly yelled back.

The verbal war seemed to be heating up, promising as much of a show as the fireworks.

Zeke chimed in next. "You losers won't know what hit you!" There was a tremor in his voice, though whether it was caused by fear or excitement, I couldn't say.

"Nothing like a faceful of defeat to put you in your place!" Patrick's tone was nothing short of giddy. He loved this.

"After a faceful of defeat, we'll still look a damn sight better than you, you ugly jerks!" This taunt came from Matt, and it took me aback. I didn't know he had that kind of fire. Something about the competition at hand brought it out in him.

"Maybe we should be recording this," Seth said.

I leaned against his shoulder and grinned. "We could probably edit it a bit, add some dramatic music, and post it online. It might go viral, shared as a cautionary tale down the generations."

"It could also make a valuable record for the police," Seth added. "That way, if they get themselves killed pulling this stunt, the cops will know we were only innocent bystanders."

"Or if we die horrifically, it'll be like one of those found footage films," Sophie said. "People will watch it and either lament our tragic demise or criticize our stupidity."

I laughed. Sophie can be just as morbid as me when she puts her mind to it. "How many times have we discussed the possibility of dying in some grisly way?" I asked. "If we were half as smart as we like to think we are, we wouldn't even be here right now."

"You're right," Seth said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to record the mayhem.

"Mmm hmm," Sophie agreed.

None of us moved.

Note #49

Catastrophic events must be documented. That's one of the ways humanity (hopefully) learns from its mistakes. Stupidity can serve as a learning experience for others. If you don't have the good sense to get out of the way when danger presents itself, at least act as a documentarian, sharing your experience with others.

The first shot rang out, a glowing red ball that smacked into one of the picnic tables in Carly and Matt's wall. Matt responded with a shot of his own, but it landed short, the blue fireball fizzing out in the grass.

Seth sighed. "I'm feeling patriotic right now. Should we sing _The Star Spangled Banner_ or something?"

"These are the kinds of incidents that led to fireworks being made illegal in a lot of places, you know." I leaned back on my hands as I watched a golden ball and a green ball arc past each other midair. Who knew such acts of idiocy could be so aesthetically pleasing? "Is anyone else worried about something catching on fire? I know the ground over there was wet earlier, but it was pretty hot today."

"I think they hosed that area down a couple of times," Sophie said.

I didn't know whether I should give my cousins credit for that. It seemed such an odd juxtaposition: minimal safety precautions coupled with epic recklessness.

Not that those minimal precautions did the actual participants any good. Nor did I feel badly for Matt when a perfectly lobbed red fireball went over his wall and down his back. Matt's howl, a bone-chilling combination of pain and rage, echoed through the trees.

"I got him!" Zeke's cry of triumph, though perhaps well-earned due to the precision of it, put a target on his back.

A target that Matt fully intended to hit, judging by the look on his face. "You! I'll get you, you little worm!"

"I've got your back, Matty," Carly said, grasping a fresh Roman candle in her hand. Apparently sibling solidarity applied in this instance. Instances where one gets the opportunity to exact revenge tend to bring out those protective instincts.

"Mom is going to be mad that he ruined his shirt," Sophie said matter-of-factly.

Taking a second look at Matt, I saw that his shirt truly was ruined. What had once been a perfectly presentable yellow t-shirt now had a blackened trail running all the way down the back, and though I couldn't see it right then, I'd later discover a couple of holes had also been burned through the material.

"At least it didn't catch on fire," I said. "That would have been just his luck."

Matt chose that moment to charge around the end of the wall and sprint across the field of battle that separated the enemy combatants. A couple more fiery orbs flew above his head, lighting the scene in blue and gold.

"I really feel like we should be doing something to stop this," Seth said, though he hadn't stopped recording the proceedings.

"Believe me, I'd be all for it if it could be done safely. I'm not sure that'll be possible." I watched with a twisted fascination as Matt rounded the enemy wall, and following a high-pitched scream, Zeke launched around the opposite side, flaming balls in hot pursuit.

A couple of shots nailed Zeke in the back and calves, which added an amusing hitch to his steps. Patrick, not willing to let such an assault go unanswered, took off after them.

Carly doubled over as she laughed hysterically.

The scent of gunpowder blanketed the yard, treating our senses to that distinctive 4th of July odor. I wondered if we'd also be able to pick up the stench of scorched hair and fabric should we move any closer.

The Fallible Four circled the scene, making the occasional pit stop to grab more ammunition and attempting to either hide or light the Roman candles while running.

As you can imagine, it was only a matter of time before something went terribly wrong. I shouldn't have been surprised when it happened. One of The Fallible Four who had actually slept in their bedroom the night before (I later found out it was Carly) had left the window open. The trajectory of that fateful red fireball was perfect, sailing through that window and, as we later learned, landing square in the middle of the bed.

Just so all of you know for future reference, bedding goes up in flame quickly.

I'm not even sure if everyone noticed the issue right away. Patrick, who was responsible for that particular shot, certainly didn't stop chasing Matt after it happened.

Carly, on the other hand, did see it. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she watched the orange glow of the growing flames.

Seth stopped recording at that point. "I should probably call the fire department."

I nodded. "That would be a good idea."

Matt stopped in his tracks as he finally noticed the now prominent flames in the window. Patrick smacked into him from behind, sending Matt to his hands and knees. Even so, Matt never looked away from the window. I saw his mouth move, and though I can imagine he said something quite colorful, I didn't hear it.

While Seth was on the phone, I approached the rest of my cousins. Sophie wasn't far behind. "This is . . . this is so bad," she whispered.

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," I said.

"Damn," Matt said as he scrambled to his feet. "I need to get in there to get my stuff!"

In a panic, I kicked him back to the ground. "Are you crazy? That fire is spreading too fast. You might not make it back out of there!"

He glared at me. "I'll be fine!" he yelled as he tried to get up again.

Carly full-on tackled him, using all the upper body strength she had to hold him down. "Don't even think about it, Matty. It's too dangerous."

As if telling Matt anything was too dangerous would do any good. Fortunately, Carly had him pretty effectively pinned.

Patrick groaned. "We are so screwed."

I couldn't disagree with that analysis.

Seth stepped up beside me. "Help is on the way."

The fire had completely engulfed the bedroom, and I knew the roof had to be getting pretty hot. It was only a matter of time before the flames started to eat their way through.

My arch-nemesis, the trampoline that one once tried to kill me, was still shoved up against the cabin from the previous day's antics. Perhaps the fire would vanquish it at last. A girl can dream, can't she?

Note #50

When matters have escalated beyond your control and intervening would only endanger you, stand back at a safe distance and try to look on the bright side. It may be difficult, but it will help you to cope with a crappy situation.

"And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air . . ." I sang softly as I looked on.

"It's a good thing we didn't decide to hide out inside," Seth said.

That much was true. Though we likely would have made it out safely, one could never be too sure.

"One thing is certain," I said. "I'll definitely have enough material to write another book."

Tyler and Corey joined us then, and the nine of us watched the cabin as it burned. We suddenly had this catastrophic event bonding us together, and all hostilities seemed to have been temporarily laid to rest. In a way, that bizarre moment encapsulated what the holiday is all about. Though they'd never gotten along before that night, Corey still stood beside my brother, and Tyler looked perfectly fine with it. Though I found it weird, there was something comforting about the sight. Perhaps all things, unlikely as they may be, are possible.

"Wicked. That's insane," Tyler said, his voice reverent.

"That's not much of a fire," Corey said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I once saw this house on fire, right, and the flames were, like, thirty feet high. No one was around, and I wondered if anyone was inside, so I . . ."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose. "For a minute there, you seemed all right. You're almost cool when you're not spouting crazy stories. You know that no one believes you, right?"

Corey's eyes were wide, and for a horrifying second, it looked like he was about to cry. Then he turned on his heel and fled for the trees.

So much for family unity.

A few moments later, Seth tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "I guess this means skinny dipping later is out of the question."

I sighed. "That it is. That it is."

So much for a lot of things. Dang it.

Afterward

The cabin wasn't a total loss. A fire truck happened to be nearby, having been at the ready at a local fireworks display. Though there was insurance covering most things that could go wrong, the sheer recklessness involved landed the bill for repairs squarely on Uncle Ryan and Aunt Barbara's families.

Mom's standing invitation for renting these cabins was rescinded. Even though Mom was mad about that, she and my dad were grateful that a.) no one was hurt, and b.) we had video evidence exonerating Tyler and me from any blame.

All of us had to crowd into one cabin for the night, and none of the adults were happy about our presence and the reason for it. No one slept well.

Our departure the next day was delayed by several hours due to police reports and all that. That was an interesting and exhausting process, let me tell you. Being sleep-deprived and grumpy didn't help.

Fortunately, Aunt Barbara had bullied her doctors into releasing her from the hospital by the time we were done with everything, so Patrick and Zeke were not our concern. As you can probably guess, the news that her sons had landed them with a bill for damages amounting to many thousands of dollars did nothing to help her stress levels. I have the feeling those boys will be working to cover those costs for years to come.

The ride back home was plenty tense, especially with Tyler and Corey being most definitely not on speaking terms. Even with everything else going on, Mom and Dad managed to catch wind of what happened between them and pulled Tyler aside before we left. I overheard Mom telling Tyler how "Corey's family is going through a rough time, and he's doing what he can to deal with it, so he doesn't need you making it worse for him." Now, Corey has been a pathological liar for as long as I can remember. To be fair, I don't know if that's just how he is, or if things in his family have always been that bad. Who could say?

We made it home late at night, haggard after the lengthy drive and burdened by the knowledge that we were stuck with Corey because his parents weren't due back from their retreat for another couple of days. I wasn't looking forward to the tension between him and my brother, but I figured I could avoid most of it from the comfort of my bedroom.

There was, however, one piece of knowledge that I knew would eat away at me.

The trampoline survived the blaze unscathed. I fear nothing can destroy it.

# # #

About the Author

L.G. Keltner spends most of her time trying to write while also cleaning up after her crazy but wonderful kids and hanging out with her husband. Her favorite genre of all time is science fiction, and she's been trying to write novels since the age of six. Needless to say, those earliest attempts weren't all that good.

Her non-writing hobbies include astronomy and playing Trivial Pursuit.

Ways to Connect

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Also by L.G. Keltner

Self-Help 101 or: How I Learned to Take Over the World Through Tolerating My Family

A Silent Soliloquy

Cosmic Seasoning: A Collection of Short Stories

" _Felix Was Here" in the IWSG anthology Parallels: Felix Was Here_

