The Original Crowd (A Whole New Crowd 0.50)

I was uncomfortable.

Mandy burst out laughing. “You’re in pain right now, aren’t you?” she asked. “You’re just hating this.” She laughed hysterically.

I didn’t get what was so funny.

“I love you, Taryn.” She threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “I really do. I was a bit worried when we were asked to adopt you, but…man…this is great. You’re great. You and me—we’re actual sisters. We fight, laugh, cry, but you’re there for me, just like a sister should be. You’re better than a best friend. Best friends can fight and that’s the end of it, but not you and me.”

See why I’m so uncomfortable? There is absolutely no point in this conversation. Mandy and I have bonded before, we don’t need to do it again. In my opinion, conversations need to have a purpose. They should be limited to these purposes only: 1. To argue; 2. To make plans for the immediate future (stay away from long-term planning, could lead to something more serious); 3. Sex; 4. To inform someone or be informed of something important (I will be the judge on what is considered important). If conversations do not adhere to these requirements, the only exception is if I’m amused (I will also be the only one to judge if it is funny or not).

“Anyway,” Mandy continued after her fit of laughter, “I was saying that Carter’s parents don’t like Tray. I think it’s because Tray told ‘em to fuck off. The guy hates authority. He used to be awful in the eighth and ninth grade. He was suspended almost every month. They only kept him in school because the superintendent was golf buddies with his dad. Last year he started to get better. He only got suspended every third month or so.”

She started laughing again. She had to be drinking; water doesn’t have this kind of effect.

Another stipulation: both parties must adhere to the aforementioned stipulation concerning the humor exclusion. I was not amused. According to the rules, this conversation is illegal.

“I just think it’s awesome that my sister is dating Tray Evans. Like in a real relationship. This isn’t like when he dated Jasmine.”

Okay. This conversation needed to be done.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

I veered into the kitchen instead and grabbed some of the magical coffee that appeared out of nowhere.

“Hey.” Tray had followed me.

“Let’s go back to denying that we’re in a relationship.”

Tray grinned and hopped onto the island counter, sitting back to listen to me.

I continued, “People suddenly think they can start talking to me about this, you and me. Carter. Mandy. God knows who’s next. I don’t care about what they think. I don’t care about what you used to be like and how you’ve changed. I don’t care that you’re treating me dif

ferent than you treated Jasmine. I don’t care about any of that, so why do people think they should tell me? Because I should care about that shit? Which, I do not!”

“Just tell ‘em to fuck off. It works for me.” Tray was still grinning, finding my tirade amusing. He lifted a hand to run through his hair.

My eyes fell on his bandages.

“You want me to redress those?” I pointed to his hands.

“Oh. Uh,” he paused to consider it, “nah. They should be good. If I go swimming, then yeah.”

“I suggested swimming. But no one’s swimming.”

“That requires energy.” Tray yawned. “I know I don’t have that much.” He pointed to my hands. “How are your hands?”

I’d forgotten about my cuts. I lifted my hands and looked at them. “They’re better. Not hurting, if that’s what you’re asking.” But I should change their dressings, it’d been awhile.

“You two aren’t doing it in the kitchen, are you?” Carter asked, from around the corner. He must’ve been the spokesman, because a smattering of laughs—and giggles—broke out.

It’s only funny when men giggle. Giggling girls: annoying.

Tray retorted, “If we are, you gotta pay to come watch.”

Carter turned the corner, a dollar bill in hand. “Do I know you or what?” He laughed, launching himself up on the counter, landing next to Tray. “So, Taryn, do a dance for me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Tray grew silent, waiting for my reaction.