Whoa,” Brandon says when we get to my house after school on Monday. “It looks so different in here.”
“It does,” I say. Over the weekend the transformation into normalcy was completed. Without the record-setting stuff, my living room is huge. And perfect. And maybe a little bit lonely.
“You really got your win this time,” Jesse says as he sits on the couch.
“Everything is so… lame.” Brandon frowns. “Where’d it all go?”
“Garage. My parents say they’re getting rid of it soon.”
“So what should we do now?” Jesse asks. “I could go for some Fruity Pebbles.”
“I’m not really that hungry. We could watch TV or something, I guess.” Actually, I wish they’d leave.
“We could go to my house,” Brandon says.
“I think I just want to stay here.” I add, “But you guys should go.”
“We could play record-breaker roulette,” Brandon says. “Open one of the boxes and do something with whatever we find.”
“I don’t really feel like doing anything.” I sit in the chair. I can because there are no paper planes in it. “It’s just, I thought it would feel different. Like, I’d be happy about it or something.”
“Milo,” Jesse says, and he cringes like he’s sorry for his words before he even says them. “Have you ever considered that maybe it’s not the records that’s the problem?”
Brandon sits in the chair next to mine. “We could see who can spin around in these the fastest. Whoever pukes first loses.”
I ignore Brandon. “Are you saying it’s me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it is something to think about?”
“Are you guys going to start fighting again? Look. Milo, would it help if we went back to being enemies? Might give you something to do.”
Jesse raises his hand. “It’d help me.”
I glare at Brandon. “Don’t be a doofus.”
Brandon shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to help.” He gets up and walks toward the kitchen. “Where’s he going?” “I don’t know.”
When he comes back, he’s wearing a huge plastic horse head. “Look what I found! I didn’t even have to open a box. This was right on top.” He pets the mane.
“Take that off,” Jesse says.
“I challenge you both to the most hops on one foot while wearing this mask. And go!”
He starts jumping. The head flops around until it faces the wrong way.
“You look ridiculous,” I say. Because he does.
“You’ll never be able to beat me if you don’t get out of that chair.” His voice is muffled.
“I’m okay with that.”
“You’re lying.” He stops. “Whew! Okay. Forty-six is the number to beat.”
He takes off the mask and plops it onto Jesse’s head. “Sorry it’s wet. I sweat a lot.”
Brandon picks up the mask, and he puts it on Jesse again.
“Are you going to get up?” Brandon asks.
Jesse says, “No.”
“Okay. Then congratulate me. I’m the winner.”
Jesse stands up, takes off the mask, and plops it backward onto Brandon’s head. Then Jesse pushes him—just barely, a finger to the shoulder—but still, it works.
Brandon stumbles, and his leg hits on a chair. He reaches out to stop his momentum, but he falls on his butt.
Nobody moves at first. Then I look at Jesse, and he looks at me and we crack up.
I seriously can’t even breathe. Jesse has tears running down his face.
“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Brandon is smiling as he takes off the mask. “Finally you’re fighting back.” He rubs his hands together. “It’s on.”
“Bring it,” Jesse says.
“Thank goodness. I’ve been so bored without a rival.”