Synonyms For Better

Chapter 19 - Renzo Culpepper In The House Tonight

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐎'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I DIDN'T KNOW if it was just indigestion or what but I had a feeling in my gut, one that I was sure was acting up because of my conscience as a coveted expert matchmaker. 

Though the other option could be that old can of spam I ate the other day...

You know what? I'm going to go with that first option. 

Renzo Culpepper, expert matchmaker. It has a certain ring to it, don't you think? 

... No?

Pfft, okay. Be like that, then. Anyways. 

I sat in the train that was hurtling towards Lorentown. I watched my best friend and brother-from-another-mother, alias Finn, sit in the seat opposite of mine, looking thoroughly glum. 

That's such a funny word, though, isn't it? Glum. GLUM.  gLuM. 

I'll stop now. 

I stopped thinking about the syntax of the word 'glum' and instead focused back onto the issue at hand. Finn's normally jovial face now looked slightly dull. Instead of chattering on about something thoughtfully random— like whether ducks ever have identity crises because they walk, swim, and fly —he sat there, looking out the window as if someone was standing out there with a board that said 'stare at this' as we hurtled past. 

And just to make sure no one really was standing out there, I quickly peeked a look out the window. Obviously, no one was there. I sat back in my seat with a confused look at Finn.

I experimentally offered him my bag of chips, and when he refused it, barely even glancing at it, that's when I knew something was wrong.

Because potato chips. Come on.

I carefully put the chip bag away, dusted away anything on my fingers, and then turned to Finn solemnly. 

"Alright, Finneas, my guy," I sighed, steepling my fingers seriously. "Tell your buddy Renzo what's wrong."

(If I had glasses, this is the part where they would be perched lower on my nose so I could look over the rim with an analytical stare.)

Finn glanced up at me, and then looked away defensively, frowning. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

I sadly shook my head. "I offered you a potato chip. A freaking potato chip, and you said no. This experiment proves my hypothesis that indeed, something is very much wrong."

(If I had glasses, this is the part I would have gravely taken them off for a moment of silence for that neglected potato chip.)

Finn shook his head lightly, still staring out the window but his face showing slight traces of amusement. "Hypothesis, hmm?

And then I casually said, "Yeah, dude. You know, I think Cora's ways have rubbed off on me."

And yes, that was the magic word, it seemed, because as soon as he heard her name, his expression changed abruptly.

Finn's brows knitted together at first, as if he was deep in thought, before his eyes widened slightly like Thomas Edison or someone had turned the first light bulb on inside Finn's brain. But in all seriousness, there was a mix of surprise with a soft realization on my friend's face, and his lips parted just a bit like he was about to say something but didn't know what or how. Finn, usually so laid-back and full of risqué jokes or random bouts of sarcasm, suddenly looked lost, and then confused. Finally, a silly smile slowly broke out on his face. But he still didn't say anything.