“Come on, Dita, you’ve got this,” I pant as I jog mostly in place and backwards with Dita and Vinnie, who are walking slower than snails for the last quarter mile of Shipwreck’s annual Scurvy Run.

Yes, the Scurvy Run.

We run a 5K the Saturday before Thanksgiving every year so we remember to eat our vegetables and not get scurvy. I know. It’s dorky.

It’s also fun, and we tend to raise a lot of money for charity, plus, we follow it up with a food cart vendor feast in the park.

Usually Cooper and Grady would be with me, but Cooper’s MIA after last night’s drunken glow-in-the-dark putt-putt game that he and Max abruptly left early, and Grady didn’t want to leave Annika early this morning, since she’s apparently having a morning sickness day. I’d put a hundred bucks down that he shows up to serve Crow’s Nest donuts and muffins, but that he doesn’t hang out at the park any longer than about half an hour, except I know literally no one who would take that bet.

My parents, grandparents, friends, aunts, uncles, cousins, and the Fireballs players who showed up to participate this morning—Trevor, Robinson, Brooks, and Luca Rossi, who drove in from the city early this morning with his girlfriend—have all crossed the finish line.

Mackenzie and Henri walked the race, and they finished twenty minutes ago too.

I’m starting to think Dita and Vinnie are trying to see how long I can jog with them before I drop dead of exhaustion.

Heh.

Like I’d show up for the Scurvy Run without beefing up on coffee first. I could do this all day.

Though I’ll hurt like Captain America’s stuntman tomorrow.

And no, I don’t want to talk about why I like to keep up with the back of the pack.

It has nothing to do with seeing Max running backwards and encouraging the slowest pitchers during warm-ups a couple years back when I was in the city for a ball game and got into Duggan Field early, for family hours, before they opened the doors to fans for the day.

Nothing at all.

That would be like admitting my brother has influenced me over the years.

Hmph.

Brother. Whatever.

“She’s evil,” Vinnie pants.

“I know,” Dita agrees on a gasp. “I hate her.”

We’re about two inches from my driveway, which means we’re two inches and the width of my front yard from Max’s house. “Join the club, my friends. Get those knees up! You can do it. We’re not letting you give up when we’re this close.”

“Can you imagine—” gasp pant “—what would happen—” pant pant “—if TJ and LBS—” gasp groan “—had a love parrot?”

“Dita Angelina Kapinski!” I gasp in mock outrage. “Hush your mouth. Even if Long Beak Silver were a shape-shifting parrot, he would never be my type.”

Max’s front door opens, and Cooper sticks his head out. His hair’s standing at all angles like he slept over, and he rubs his face like he’s not sure what he’s seeing.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” I call. “So nice of you to show your face for the Scurvy Run. You wanna come help me motivate these two so we can get to the food?”

“Did you just say you want to sleep with Long Beak Silver?” he calls back.

I flip him off.

And again, since I have basically zero experience doing it even if I can line up garden gnomes—shudder—in the shape of a fisted hand with a middle finger up, I end up showing him a pinky on one hand and my index finger on the other.

“I got your back, TJ,” Vinnie says. He flips Cooper the double bird.

“Good man, Vinnie. Good man. Now lift those knees and let’s get going. Can you smell those donuts? If you don’t move it, they’ll be gone before we get there. You know Grady’s gone as soon as his food is.”

Cooper disappears back into the house.

And finally—finally—Dita and Vinnie and I make it to the park.

Dita collapses dramatically onto a park bench at the edge of the festivities.

I might collapse dramatically next to her. This is what I get for my pride refusing to admit I need to exercise more before I run a 5K at half a mile an hour in forty-degree weather.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she gasps.

“Like I need a doctor can’t feel my legs, or like wow, that’s good, I always wanted jelly for legs can’t feel my legs?” I ask.

Which is a massive mouthful when I’m panting like this too, for the record.

“The second. And I still hate you. But I also love you. Don’t ever change.”

That’s a relief. “You kicked booty, Dita. Way to go.” I try to lift a finger to signal Grady to bring one of his donuts over, but I can’t lift my hand, so I try a Jedi mind trick.

It doesn’t work.

Instead, Cooper shows up next to us, bottles of orange juice in hand. “Drink up, me hearties. Yo ho ho.”

“How—” Vinnie bends over and pants too “—the fuck did—” and now he’s wheezing “—you get here first?”

“Dude.” Cooper bends over to peer into his face. “Your pulse okay? You gonna pass out? Drink something. I walked and I got here before you. Jesus. Don’t do the 5K if the 5K’s gonna do you up the ass instead, you get me?”

“Fuck off, Rock.” Vinnie glugs the orange juice, then plops onto the bench on Dita’s other side.

“Tillie Jean,” Dita pants, “he stinks and I can’t move. Make him move.”

“Cooper,” I pant. “Make him move.”

He pins me with a glare, looking so un-Cooper-like that I stop panting.

“How much coffee have you had today?” he demands.

“Enough to clean me out before my run. You’re more or less dead to me for Jell-O-ing my toilets, by the way. I expect a gift certificate for Sienna Bordner’s housecleaning service for Christmas. Weekly, Stinky Booty. I want weekly maid service.”

He doesn’t smile.

And now I’m seriously concerned.

I down the orange juice in one long gulp, then give Dita a shoulder bump. “Stay here. I’ll bring you a donut. Or the next best thing.”

And then I join my brother and smother him with a hug, since it’s not often I’m the sweaty, stinky one. “Aww, my favorite brother,” I say. “Right behind Grady and Max.”

“Don’t start, Tillie Jean.”

“What? I have the best brothers in the world. Why wouldn’t I want more?”

He untangles himself from my grip and looks up at the overcast sky as he turns and heads toward the food tables. “I’m not telling you this,” he mutters.

“Clearly.”

“Look, Max grew up…”

“With a shitty home life,” I prompt.

His face dances in irritation. “Right. You read all the articles about him.”

“I read all of the articles about all of you.” Mostly so I have a reason for reading all of the articles on Max. But I didn’t just tell you that. “Go on. Quiz me. I can even tell you what Darren had to bring home from the ballpark for Tanesha every night when she was pregnant and why Francisco keeps an Easter egg in his locker.”

“Wait, you know about that? He’s never told us why he keeps that egg in there.”