Chase & Adrienne

1

CHASE

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

The faint sounds of board game pieces tap tap tapping against cardboard and the crunching of potato chips fill the den. A single lamp near the entrance struggles to light the room, but the dim location makes for the feeling of a covert operation. Of course, there's nothing sneaky about two seventeen year olds hunched over a Monopoly board and a bowl of Flamin' Hot Cheetos crumbs. 

"How did you get Park Place and Boardwalk?" I interrogate. "I know you're cheating, Adrienne." She sticks her tongue out at me and rolls the dice. She moves her piece across the board, which rests in its usual spot: the center of Adrienne's massive den, between the scuffed leather couch and the plasma screen TV. This is the venue of all our beloved board game matches, karaoke nights, and movie marathons. I've practically grown up in this room. Music from our favorite band's newest album trickles from the speaker in the corner of the room.

"I'm not cheating. I'm just awesome," Adrienne claims, a smirk plastered across her face. "Good luck, my friend. You have quite a treacherous journey ahead of you."

I shake my head and pick up the dice, praying for anything but a four or a six. Those little suckers would mean certain death. I close my eyes and roll, afraid of what I'll see. When I take a peek, a pair of three dots stare up at me.

"WHAT?!" I shout, an F-bomb following closely behind. Adrienne lets out a laugh, a genuine sound, just like everything else about her.

I move my piece laboriously—the hat, as always—six spaces, landing on the dreaded Boardwalk. A devious smile creeps across Adrienne's smug little face as she runs her fingers through her dark brown hair, which is a habit for her. A few years ago, I threatened to cut it off if she kept touching it like a maniac. Did that stop her? Considering her hair nearly grazed the rug that we sat on, my threats fell flat. 

"That'll be $1200, my good sir," she instructs me.  I slap my remained $955 on the ground, and Adrienne leaps onto her feet triumphantly. "Ladies and gentlemen, Adrienne La Londe is the winner yet again! Chase McCarthy has just been beaten by a girl at the classic game of Monopoly for the 10,000,000th time."

"10,000,000 is a bit excessive, don't you think? 9,999,999 is more like it. You don't get the satisfaction of ten million."

"If that's what you need to tell yourself," she whispers, pinching my cheek. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"Asshole," I mutter, but I can't help but smile. Adrienne gasps and begins pelting me with game pieces. This escalates to a full-out war, tiny houses flying through the air. Eventually, the game board assumes the role of a weapon, which barely misses Adrienne's face. Her eyes widen. 

"Okay, okay, the battle is over," I announce, signaling a truce with my hands up. Adrienne narrows her eyes into slits, calculating my sincerity with an intense stare. 

"Fine," she concedes, picking up pieces. I help her until the carnage of my loss is completely wiped away. "So what do you wanna do now, dude? It's only 3:30. We still have the whole day ahead of us."

"You hungry? I'm definitely feeling some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right about now," I say, patting my stomach. Adrienne laughs at me. 

"If you think that'll be enough to patch up your ego. Be my guest."

Rolling my eyes, I scoot past Adrienne toward the kitchen. On my way out, I shove her onto the couch. She lets out a shriek, and I sprint out of the den. 

"You're gonna pay for that, Chase!" she calls after me. I hear the faint cracking of the leather as she hoists herself up. Her bare feet slap against the tile behind me, and before I know it, she flings herself onto my back. 

"You're heavy, Adrienne! Maybe we should skip the PB&J today..."

She gasps, grabbing onto me hard and wrestling me to the ground. I try to get us down gracefully, but her strength catches me off guard, and we go crashing down onto the tile. 

"I take it back! I take it back!" I yell, but she already has me in a head lock. In the back of my mind, I know I can overpower her. The advantage in our wrestling matches shifted in my favor back when we were 11 or so, but I let her have her moment anyway. 

"Repeat after me," she starts, tightening her grip, "I, Chase Elizabeth McCarthy, will not comment on a girl's eating habits. EVER."

"For the last time, my middle name is not--"

"NOT THE POINT!" she interjects. "Repeat it, or this will get messy."

I sigh. "I, Chase Elizabeth McCarthy, will not comment on a girl's eating habits. EVER."

"Much better," Adrienne says, satisfied. She loosens her grip, and I pretend to catch my breath like I've just been strangled. 

"I'd cut back on the 'roids if I were you, Adrienne," I say, eyebrows raised. "That's some grip you got there."

Immediately after I say this, Adrienne and I burst out laughing. She's notorious for her noodle arms. It's a running joke, at least on my side. Unfortunately, she doesn't find it nearly as funny as I do. 

"Just shut up and make the sandwiches, Chase."

"As you wish, Your Highness."