Chapter 8On Saturday morning, Aunt Marion gets Liam and me out of bed early—like eight a.m. She comes into our room with a pan and a wooden spoon, banging nosily as she calls our names. Liam throws his pillow at her but misses. She laughs and scurries out of the room. “You have guests coming tonight, so you need to help us clean the house and get ready,” she calls as she heads down the stairs.
Liam gets out of bed and saunters to the bathroom without saying a word. He and I are still tormenting each over this dinner. Last night while we were eating, Liam asked, “Who is your friend again, Ty? The one coming for dinner tomorrow?” Mom and Aunt Marion stopped talking and looked at me. When I didn’t say anything, Liam said, “Finn. That’s his name, right?” The heat of a blush ran up my neck, so
