Page 74 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

OMG THANK YOU, BRODY

BEFORE

Brody’s interning with his father and mother over the summer, meaning he’s living in Beverly Hills, often partying with his old high school buddies. Lucas’s Eluva internship is in Chicago, and it pays well enough for him to quit his job as an electrician (potentially forever, meaning he can concentrate on academics next term).

I’m the only one who stays in the area, continuing research I started in the spring.

There’s no reason for us to practice over the summer, and coordinating what’s supposed to be synchronous programming via Zoom . . . sucks. But Brody and I are eager to prove ourselves, meaning this time, we’re not just aiming to get to nationals, but to win worlds.

“If you’re thirtieth on your own,” Brody is practically yelling, because he’s placed his laptop far away from wherever he’s lounging, “we’re going to have to win the whole fucking thing to not be an embarrassment.”

“Hard agree.”

My father was livid at Lucas’s performance. He’d told people his daughter would be going to worlds, had bragged about his Caltech programming progeny, and the fact that the Caltech team of one did that well?

My father’s silence was . . . deafening. Worse, he’d stopped sending money.

Completely.

No allowance in May.

Nothing again for June.

And I didn’t have enough saved. Back when I believed—naively, optimistically—that we’d have a decent enough chance at worlds to at least keep our normal allowance, I’d spent a good chunk of my bronze nationals money on a laptop for Aurora. Even though I’m making more money than ever before, even though I parlayed the nationals bronze into additional tutoring gigs, that income is sporadic, and the Pizza Palace is . . . the Pizza Palace. Meaning it’s great as a supplement, but not enough for actual rent.

I’m certain my father will get over it. Eventually.

I have potentially interesting almost-results from ongoing research with Patel.

But since research is slow, practicing with Brody and Lucas at least feels immediate.

“Need to piss. BRB.”

From his small apartment in Chicago, Lucas makes a face. “Did Brody really just say the letters B-R-B instead of be right back? It’s the same number of syllables.”

“It’s Brody. He needs attention the way plants need sunlight.”

Lucas huffs out a breath. “I’ve been meaning to ask whether Levi’s keeping up on his homework.”

Both twins are enrolled in summer school. Now that Lucas understands how community college kids are sometimes treated, he’s determined his brothers will go straight to a four-year university, which has translated to summer math advancement and taking a serious look into which sports might lead to scholarship opportunities.

“Let me take a wild guess, your mother thinks they’re too young for all this college anxiety?”

“It’s good to start early,” Lucas rebuts.

“Delilah also thinks you’re a worrier.”

“We’re cut from the same anxious cloth.”

I bite my lip, because that is something we have in common.

“Levi is keeping up just fine. Leno too.”

“I never worry about Leno. Just like I never worry about Aurora.”

Lucas turns from me, his attention back on the problem, and we work for a moment in silence before he asks, “Are you okay, living at home?” It’s not that we don’t talk regularly, it’s that often we’re both in between things. When Lucas FaceTimes me when I’m at my home, Aurora, Wren, and Harper sometimes take over the call. I’m even less comfortable having a personal conversation from the Murray house, and who really wants to talk deeply from the back row of the LA Metro?

“It’s cheaper than staying in the dorms.” Though the constant trips between my mother’s place (to theoretically rest, but in reality to cook, clean and help with the girls) and Lucas’s mother’s apartment (to check on the twins and chat with Delilah), my research, and my community college classes (which are cheaper, particularly given I’ve already been granted permission to transfer the units to Caltech) makes me feel like an overworked single parent of two distinct households.