“You’re going down,” Erin whispers to me.
“In your dreams, Ex.”
She just smirks, and then when Skyler says to get ready, she effortlessly cartwheels into a handstand.
I gape at her while Clayton does the same, and then he sidles up to grab her legs and hoist them around his waist.
When he grins back at me, I kind of want to punch him.
“Alright, Bear,” Mom says, planting her hands on the ground. “I’m not going to be as graceful, but we can win this. Let’s focus on going slow and steady. That’s what wins the race.”
I don’t know that I agree with her, but I don’t have a chance to argue before Skyler blows the whistle and the race begins.
Erin and Clayton speed off instantly, Erin’s hands moving fast as lightning as my little brother struggles to keep up behind her. Mom and I start a little slower, starting with me carefully hoisting her legs up before we talk each other through the movement.
Left, right, left, right.
Slow and steady.
I have to fight to keep from grinding my teeth together as Erin and Clayton expand their lead, and they’re already rounding the cones and heading back our way when Mom and I have only made it to the half-way point. But then, something happens, and Clayton loses his footing, stumbling forward too fast for Erin to keep herself upright. They tumble to the ground, and then mutter a string of curses as they scramble up and back to the line to start again.
“We’ve got this!” Mom yells, and she picks up the pace while I use all my focus to keep her straight and steady.
We round the cones and make our way back, but Erin and Clayton are already hot on our heels. They round the cones behind us when we still have about halfway to go to get back to the finish line.
I can hear them panting and plodding in the grass behind us, so I hold onto Mom tighter and yell, “Double-time, Mom. Let’s win this thing!”
We go as fast as we can, and even still, Clayton and Erin are gaining on us. In the end, we’re so close when we all tumble over the finish line that I have no idea who actually won. We stare up at Skyler from where we’re laid out in the grass now, and she blows her whistle, walking over to the four of us.
Then, she grabs my Mom’s hand first and then my own, lifting them high in the air.
“Winners!”
Mom screams, jumping up first and launching herself at me as soon as I’m standing, too. Clayton is yelling something about bullshit while I throw Mom up for a piggyback and do a victory lap with her in tow.
When I round the cones and head back, Erin is standing with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face, shaking her head as she watches me.
Later that evening, we’re all gathered around a giant table at the Mexican place right off campus, the ones with margaritas the size of your head and the best damn guacamole money can buy.
When we order our second round, Clayton complains that he’s the only one other than our nephews who can’t drink. Mom placates him with a pat on the head, but when she turns to continue telling her story, Erin slides her margarita over to Clayton so he can get a sip.
He grimaces, face contorting like he just bit into a lemon. “Ugh, why do you guys even like this stuff?”
“Just wait, baby brother,” I tell him, swiping a chip through the guac and popping it into my mouth. “When you get to college, you’ll not only be subjected to shitty tequila, but also the questionable lager they serve up for nickel beer at the college bars.”
“Or,” Erin says, holding up a finger. “You could be a trendsetter and not drink at all.”
“Yeah, right,” Clayton says. “And be a loser?”
“I didn’t drink for a while,” she tells him.
“Really?”
She nods. “I just…”
Her words falter a little, her eyes flicking to mine, because I know exactly why she stopped drinking. I reach under the table and squeeze her knee, reassuring her.
“I just got tired of it, you know? What’s fun about blacking out and not remembering what you did the night before? Or waking up feeling sick and shitty for a whole day?” Erin shakes her head. “I took a break, and even now, I drink, but not to get wasted. I prefer to enjoy what I’m drinking and take it slow.”
My little brother frowns, nodding. “I definitely don’t want to feel shitty all day.”
“Language,” Mom chimes in even though she’s locked into her own conversation. She shares a smile with Clayton before she goes back to talking to Janae.
“What if I have a football game the next day? Or practice?”