What Lurks Beneath the Surface ✔️

chapter six

"Tell us about your date last night," Grandpa requests from the driver's seat as we cruise down the familiar city roads.

"Yes, please do!" Gram exclaims, clapping her hands together like a giddy toddler.

"Maybe later," I reply, trying not to smile. Of course, an incoming text from Rem makes me grin like an idiot.

Rem <3: Missing you already. Any chance I can see you later?

"Ooh, our girl has a crush." Gram shoots me a wink before nudging Grandpa's shoulder.

"Stop," I groan, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"Don't worry, Calista. If she won't tell us, she'll give Gemma all the details today," Grandpa says matter-of-factly. I wish I could deny it, but I already texted my aunt and told her I had big news to share.

We're on our way to my little cousin's birthday party. Wyatt is turning seven today. His sister, Aurora, is only three. It's weird having cousins that are so much younger than me. By the time they're in high school, I'll be done with college.

Grandpa stops the car in front of the blue bungalow. A red race car balloon is tied to the mailbox, swaying back and forth with the autumn wind. I gather the presents—yes, there are multiple gifts—and carry them inside, where half a dozen second graders are running around.

"Vange, you're here!" Clementine, my ten-year-old half-sister, rushes toward me and crushes my ribcage in a bear hug.

"Hey, girly." I place a kiss on the top of her head before ruffling her mane of orange curls.

In a barely audible undertone, she says, "I can't believe you punched someone. That was so cool."

My jaw hits the floor. "Wh-what? How did you find out about that?"

"It was all over Snapchat. Duh."

And this, right here, is why fifth graders do not need cell phones.

"Relax, I didn't tell anyone," she adds. "You're my big sister. I'd never snitch on you."

"I love you, kid." I pull her in for one more hug before allowing my grandparents to say hello to their other granddaughter.

I seek out Wyatt; after all, it is his birthday. I find him with his dad, my Uncle Bowie, and congratulate him on another year of life. He gives me a quick one-armed hug and then sprints after his friends, probably too embarrassed to be seen with his older cousin.

"You didn't get him a phone for his birthday, did you?" I ask my uncle, whose eyes widen at the inquiry.

"Uh, no. Zayna wants to wait until he's in high school," he replies with a chuckle.

"That's a good decision. You should listen to her," I say, offering his wife, my Auntie Z, a quick wave.

Hopefully by then, the video of me punching Fiona will be long gone.

"Vange, over here!" Aunt Gemma's voice catches my attention. I rotate my head and spot her in the living room, as far away from the children as humanly possible.

I join her on the sofa. She holds up her wine glass, presenting me with the delicious red liquid. I eagerly accept. No one else in the family, not even Uncle Bowie, lets me drink.

"Spill the tea," my aunt says. She's not a beat-around-the-bush kind of woman.

"Okay, so don't tell Gram and Grandpa, but"—I look around to ensure no one is eavesdropping on us—"there is a boy."

"You didn't get back together with Nash, did you? Because I never liked him," she comments.

"Eww, no. His name is Remington. He's the one I told you about who sang in the second grade talent show, remember?"