To: Kati Foster
Subject: Special reconnaissance
I am writing to you from the inner chambers of the Blatt family household. My attempts to infiltrate the clan appear to be successful, and soon I will join their special ritual meal in honor of the last Thursday in November.
Lol, j/k. I was all ready for Ira’s family to be all crazy weird because of how secretive he is about them, but so far everyone is just normal weird, the way that families always are. (I feel like his brother is just a little bit more than normal weird, but that could just be a really off 1st impression. I haven’t decided.)
We got in at about 11 this morning. The ride down was nice—listened to a lot of music, sang along, played road trip games. I think Ira’s still a little mad that his mom invited me to Thanksgiving without asking him, but he’s trying real hard not to be rude about it or make me feel like he doesn’t want me there. You know, being his usual nice-guy self.
Ira’s fam lives in the suburbs of Northern Chicago—nice houses built in the 70’s-ish, big yards, all that. We pull into his driveway and there’s this guy—Ira’s brother—shooting hoops at the end of the drive. Ira mutters something like “Here we go,” when he cuts the engine. Absolutely dreading me meeting the family. Really cute. ;-)
I got out of the car just as the brother was about to throw the ball, but I guess I distracted him enough that he aimed too high and accidentally threw it onto the garage roof. He sort of stared at me like an idiot for the next couple seconds, until the ball bounced back on the pavement and Ira got out of the driver’s side.
Ira’s bro is really cute, btw. He looks a lot like Ira, but he’s just a little more buff with some extra sexy on top. (Don’t tell Ira I said that. I’m sure he would hate being told that he’s an unsexy version of Jason!) But when I got out of the car it looked like the guy was just going to stare all day unless I said something to distract him, so I said, “Hi! You must be Jason.”
For some reason he looked surprised by that, like it wasn’t normal that I would be able to guess who he is or something. But it also managed to get him to snap out of whatever was going through his head, because he grinned and he said, “I am Jason. And what’s your name?”
I told him that my name was Brook, and by that time he had walked over to me so he was close enough to shake my hand. He said, “Brook,” in this weird way, like he was testing how it sounded or something. He looked like he was going to burst out laughing any second (playing sports is really good for the endorphins, I guess), and then he said “it’s a pleasure to meet you” in a way that made it sound like he really meant the words. Totally had his flirt on.
Ira groaned from back by the trunk of the car. Next Jason asked something like, “Ira—why have you never introduced me to your friend Brook?” I thought he was laying it on a little thick. I mean, I’m fabulous and all, but this was silly. Ira mumbled something about it not being his job to help Jason meet people, and then they gave crazy eyes to each other for a few seconds before Jason rushed forward and offered to carry my stuff to the guest room.
I would have rather just grabbed it myself, but he got to the trunk before I did and pulled out my suitcase. He carried it like it was full of packing peanuts instead of textbooks. While we were walking to the house Jason said he wanted to “talk” to Ira later, in a way that made it sound like Ira was in trouble. Ira just looked annoyed.
Have I mentioned lately that boys are weird?
Btw, Ira’s house is really cool. His mom collects the most beautiful lawn statues—gnomes (of course), but also a bunch of replicas of woodland creatures that practically look real. There was a stone badger right near the porch that actually made me jump when I saw it. Well, I guess she collects a lot of sculpture in general because inside there were a bunch of pieces on shelves too, a lot of different styles but the best were these incredibly fluid marble pieces that just swirled and undulated in ways you wouldn’t think marble could. When I met her (she’s about 50, very assertive and friendly, my 1st impression is that she’s nothing like Ira) I asked about the sculptor—because someday when I’m an art dealer, I want this guy’s stuff in my gallery! She wouldn’t tell me anything besides that a family friend made them, and that it’s just a hobby of his. She said that he doesn’t want his name getting out because he doesn’t want to do it for profit. I have got to get in good with this woman and learn more.
I didn’t get to talk to Ira’s mom much so far because Jason has been trying to talk to me and ask me about myself nonstop since I got here. I practically had to sneak away to write to you. Now I’m going downstairs to see if Marsha (Ira’s mom) needs any help getting dinner ready. (I will learn the identity of her sculptor friend!!!) Wish me luck!
I’ll try to write more tonight.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Brook
