Chapter Twenty-Four: Good Eating

David stumbled into breakfast half-awake as usual, but as they were on their way in, Race grabbed his arm. "Come on, you get to sit with us today. Mom's already told your table."

"What?" David asked, not quite comprehending what Race was talking about, as he hadn't had his coffee yet or a lot of sleep the previous night.

"My brothers are starting to get here." Race rolled his eyes. "So they get to suffer through camp food too."

"Oh."

Race led him to the Higgins family's usual table, which had been extended and had extra chairs pushed in. As always, Mrs. Higgins sat at the head of the table and her husband took the foot. Race chose a seat next to his father and so David sat next to him, and the next thing he knew, the table was buzzing with people.

He was a bit surprised, though. Most of the people looked nothing like Race or his parents... He glanced at Mrs. Higgins again and saw that Race looked like her, with dark hair and eyes and slightly olive skin, and that the only other person he recognized—the DJ from the dance—also looked like them. But Race's father had dark red hair and pale skin, with light blue eyes, and none of the other people at the table did. At a guess, he'd have said the other two men were Asian and Indian respectively.

"Tony!"

"Hey, Tony!"

Race opened his mouth to answer, but as one of them walked over to sit down, he wrapped Race in a headlock and ground his fist in Race's hair, and Race winced from the noogie. "Hi," he answered grumpily.

"Mom, Gary went out to breakfast," the other brother announced. "He took a few of the kids, said something about hating uncooked pancakes."

"He didn't ask me to go," the DJ sulked. "I hate uncooked pancakes."

"Yes, but it isn't Gary's mother's birthday, now is it?" Mrs. Higgins demanded.

He coughed uncomfortably.

Race sighed. "Dave, that's Mark—" the DJ, "Chris—" the Asian brother, who'd given him the noogie, "and Dan. Mike is over there, bothering Sneakers." He pointed vaguely, and sure enough, a redhead David had never seen before was sitting at Sneakers' table. David judged them to be about the same age.

"Oh, so Mike can sit wherever he wants, but I can't—Sorry, mom," Mark said, stopping abruptly at a dark look from his mother.

"Well, that's all right, sweetie," she said finally. "If you don't want to be here, I certainly wouldn't make you."

"No, no. I definitely want to." He grinned at her, which was a grin David recognized because Race used it, too. It seemed to David to be something along the lines of, 'How could you possibly yell at someone so charming?' "Seriously, Mom. Happy birthday." And the grin again.

She sighed. David imagined that dealing with two of them—or however many of the brothers had that grin down—had been a long, trying experience for her.

"Well, I'm glad you were able to make the trip."

"It's the least I can do, Mom." He coughed slightly. "Since I didn't get you a present or anything."

She rolled her eyes, Chris elbowed him in the ribs, and judging by the "OW!" he let out, Race kicked him under the table. He glared at Race. "Well, what did you get her?" he demanded.

"I've been here," Race answered.

"So nothing, then?" Mark scoffed.

"At least he has an excuse," Mr. Higgins mused.

"Dad!" Mark objected. He got a shrug in response.

Mrs. Higgins got up to start the meal with grace, and Mark kicked Race under the table. David blocked them out, and just glanced longingly at the coffee urn.

*

By lunch, more people had gathered. David wasn't sure if it was more brothers, or just their extended families, but as he glanced around the dining hall he saw more unfamiliar faces. Mike, who had been at Sneakers' table that morning was back, now sitting next to the formerly absent Gary, who turned out to not be a brother, but Mike's partner, and David remembered vaguely Race telling him that one of his brothers was gay. Two women seemed to go with two of the brothers, and one of them was holding a child who seemed too young to do anything but cry.

Aside from the girls, Gary and the baby, a tall, broad shouldered blond greeted Race by jumping on his back and knocking them both over.

Race picked himself up, and as he did so Chris snuck up behind him, and pushed him back into the blond, who pinned his arms to the side for Chris to tweak his nose none too gently. Racetrack, David noted, did not look like a happy camper.

He was glowering at the world in general by the time he sat down and David sat down next to him. "Dave, that's Paul. He has no direction in life and is going to work at crappy minimum wage jobs until he dies," he said.

"Harsh, bro. Real harsh."

"Also right."

"Anthony," his mother scolded.

Race rolled his eyes, then pointed to the girls, sitting at other tables because there was no room at their own. "Amber somehow got tricked into marrying Chris," he explained, and Chris flicked water out of his cup at him. "And their son, Tom, is the one crying. I'd cry too if I had to deal with that every day." More water flicked in his direction. The other woman was with Dan, his serious girlfriend, apparently.

And then halfway through lunch, another brother showed up, this time with a wife and two children. He was tall and pasty, with his father's red hair, but the woman looked like a model. And Mrs. Higgins found herself surrounded by grandchildren—certainly looking more cheerful than she did with just her sons—and hand painted, messy cards handed to her.

"Uh... Steve, his wife who's too pretty for him, and Ariel and Tina are the girls."

Steve playfully smacked Race's shoulder, and found seats for his wife and the girls at various tables and took the last seat at their table. "Josh is running late," he said, after greeting his parents and brothers.

"Josh is chronically late," Chris answered. "Among other things."

"Chris," Mrs. Higgins scolded. "Josh has three children. He really can't be expected to be on time."

"I have a kid. I'm on time."

"Your kid isn't old enough to walk," Steven said tiredly. "Just wait until you're chasing him all over the house to try and get him in the car."

Chris rolled his eyes, Race smirked into his water glass, and David wondered what the backstory behind that was.

By the time dinner ended, he'd wish he hadn't cared.

*

"I'll drive!"

"I've got the van! I can—"

"Van's full of kids, someone take the camp van—"

"I got the van!"

"Yeah, but you suck, so—"

"What? I can drive! I also said, like, ten minutes ago that someone should take a camp van because Steve's van is full of kids and Josh's truck is also full of kids and brothers and Gary's car is—"

"Yes, but no one cares what you say, and also, you can't drive."

Mark glared at Paul, or at least, David was relatively certain it was Paul. It was the blond one, whichever one that was. He leaned over to Race.

"Um... I'm never, ever going to be able to learn all of these people's names."

"Yeah, don't worry. I only just learned them last year, swear to God." Race rolled his eyes, and then muttered, "I swear I'm going to put my hands over my ears and start yelling 'la la la, I can't hear you,' to all this."

"I think that, uh... what's his name is doing it for you." David gestured.

Mark was holding his hands over his ears. "La la la, I can't hear you!"

"I said—" maybe-Paul said, pulling away one of Mark's hands and yelling directly into his ear, "I SAID, 'YOU SUCK AT DRIVING.'"

Which caused Mark to punch him, hard, in the stomach, so Paul retaliated by smacking him upside the head and it would probably have degenerated into a fist fight if Mrs. Higgins hadn't walked by and glared at them. They fell still immediately.

"Dan is taking one of the camp vans, you two will not sit next to each other for fear of heavy bruising. Tony!"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Sit between them."

"Hey, I don't wanna get bruised either—" Glare. "Yes, okay, sure thing, Mom."

"Thank you, darling." She turned to maybe-Paul and almost-certainly-Mark and announced, "You see, if you two could be half as mature as your younger brother..."

"Mom!" Race yelped. "Are you trying to get me beat up?"

But she'd already been whisked away by a handful of grandchildren, and the next thing David knew, maybe-Paul and almost-certainly-Mark were taking turns punching their youngest brother, who was trying unsuccessfully to scramble out from between them. Except that Paul seemed a bit muscle-y and his grip on Race's shoulder was vice-like.

"I didn't do anything!" Race protested, and finally gave in and punched Mark and then kicked Paul's shin.

"Uh huh," Paul said skeptically, as one of the other brothers approached.

"Hey, are we beating Tony?" he asked.

"No!" Race yelped.

"Yes," Mark answered and punched Race again.

"Aww, be nice." The brother—Josh? Mike? Honestly, David had no idea—pulled Race into a giant fake hug. "We don't want to hurt Mommy's Fav-wit Widdle Boy, do we?"

"Get off me!" Race shoved him away and dashed over to hide behind David.

"Boys!" Mrs. Higgins voice cut through all of the scuffling and the noise. "Cars now, please, and anyone who gets left behind... I don't really care, so stop arguing!"

So everyone got dragged into different vans and cars, and it took about four different ones to get the whole family into something with wheels. Race was indeed shoved in the middle seat in one of the camp's mini-vans, with Mark the DJ (David was pretty sure) and Paul the blond one (David was less sure) on either side of him. The darker skinned brother David has pegged as Indian was driving, but damned if David had any idea what his name was; and Gary was riding shotgun. David was piled into the back most set of seats, with two young girls next to him, who seemed to remember as the daughters of the oldest brother, but he wasn't any more sure of that than he was of anyone's name.

The girls were giggling in high pitched tones and braiding each other's hair—or something like that—while Paul and Mark seemed to have invented their own version of ping pong, with Racetrack as the ball. Or something. It seemed to consist of Paul smacking Race's head and then Mark shoving Race back at Paul, who hit him again.

Racetrack was clearly biting down swear words because of the girls in the car, and finally Dan (well, David thought it was Dan) turned around to yell at them. "I'm trying to drive here, so if you two would stop abusing the baby—"

"I'm not—"

"Shut up!"

Everyone fell silent for a few second, then Racetrack let out an explosive, "OW! You JERK!" and turned towards Paul, snatched the magazine from him and began to beat him over the head with it. But Mark grabbed him and made him stop, but for a change neither one of the brothers retaliated. The sulked in silence (with the exception of the little girls still squeaking) and David shook his head in wonder. He hadn't pictured Race as taking quite so much abuse at home, but then again, David only had a younger brother.

Race ran a hand through his hair, and the driver commented, "It really isn't fair, you know."

"What?" Gary asked.

"Tony." Dan glanced back at them. "He's so Mom's favorite, it isn't even—"

"Dan, lay off," Race said. "I'm not, you know I'm not."

Paul made a slightly amused noise. "No, no, you're not her favorite at all. She just thinks you're the most perfect, smartest, most responsible—"

"Okay, in all fairness, he is more responsible than you are," Mark pointed out, and Paul reached over Race to whap him.

"Yeah, but I'm just saying. God, Tony, can't you be bad at something?"

"I'm bad at lots of things. She yells at me all the time."

"Yeah, right."

"Hey, guys." It was almost the first thing Gary had said all day, so far as David knew. "You guys want to lay off him? He can't control what your mom does." Which earned him only glares in return. He rolled his eyes. "What, was that a brother thing I wasn't supposed to comment on?"

"Shut up," Dan snapped.

Gary shrugged. "I'm just saying, speaking as an in-law who doesn't have to compete for a mother's love or anything, you're mean."

"We don't have to compete for anything," Paul said. "Mom loves us all."

"She just loves Tony best."

"Hey!" Race yelled, and it was an actual yell that caused everyone else in the car to fall silent. "Look, I don't know what you guys think, but Mom is way harsher on me than she ever has been on anyone else. Everyone got away with... with breaking curfew or playing cards or swearing at least a few times, but I say or do anything not perfect and she's breathing down my neck. I'm not allowed to do anything fun and I have to do everything she wants or I'm just grounded, no chance to even defend myself."

"Awww, poor baby," Dan finally said, after thinking about it for a few seconds.

Race groaned and shrunk down in his seat. And David was kind of glad no one seemed to remember he existed.

Dinner was being held at a classy Italian restaurant, the kind that made David feel guilty to order anything more than soup and salad because it was all quite expensive. The restaurant overlooked a lake front view, with lights strung up outside to make everything even prettier, and David did have to admit the place had ambiance.

Or at least, it would have, if the Higgins family hadn't been there.

David was smart enough not to say that out loud, though.

"—and I don't see how you can possibly justify or moralize working for a man who—"

"Well if you would listen to me I would explain but you'd rather stick your finger in your ears and ignore the—"

"Tina, stop pulling Ariel's hair, Ariel, dear, if you'd—"

"Oops Daddy I spilled!"

"—the senator is not a bigot and if you'd just listen and stop trying to muckrake, you filthy yellow—"

"Does this shirt smell like coffee? I swear I've washed it five hundred times but—"

"Daddy, Aaron spilled again! Ewwwwww it's on me!"

"No, no, you're not listening to me, you're so convinced that a politician can't possibly have genuine morals that—"

"Scared yet?" Race asked mildly.

"It's not... scary..."

Mark, sitting on David's other side, shook his head. "It's more just insanity, right? It's usually so much worse than this. Honestly, Josh and Chris..."

"Who?" David asked.

Race nodded towards the two brothers who'd been screaming at each other about politics, seemingly without pausing for breath or to listen to each other, for a good twenty minutes now. "Josh works for Senator Blakesfield; Chris writes for the Metro Insider. And the two are kind of..."

"Sworn enemies?" Mark suggested. Race nodded.

"—you stupid irresponsible republican—"

"Irresponsible? Oh, oh, like a journalist has an right to call anyone else irresponsible!"

"We try not to let them in the same room too often. This always happens."

"Okaaay." David blinked a few times. "Who's...?"

Race nodded and began to point. His mother was at the head of the table and his father at the foot. Racetrack, David and Mark sat on one side of the table, and further down the side were Steven—the oldest brother, who looked a lot like his father—and Alyssa, his wife, and between them were their two daughters.

The other side of the table had Josh and Chris, somehow sitting right next to each other (probably better for yelling in each other's faces, David thought); Josh resembled his mother and Chris was adopted. There were women on either side of them, and several children in high chairs, and further down the table were Mike and Gary, who David reminded himself was an in-law and not just another adopted brother, and finally Dan and Paul.

"I'm never, ever going to remember that."

"Yeah, just yelling 'hey you' works surprisingly well," Mark noted. "Well, we call Tony the baby, usually, and Steve is just 'hey old guy,' at this point. Chris calls Josh 'that Republican,' and Josh calls him 'the idiot writer.'"

"Mike and Gary are, well, Mike'n'Gary, really," Race added. "And Paul is Jock-boy."

"Or Blondie."

"Or Beckham Wannabe."

"Or Pele Wannabe."

"Or—"

"So he plays soccer, then?" David interrupted, since he was pretty sure they were just going to go on.

"How'd you guess?"

David shook his head; he gathered that Mark and Racetrack were the two youngest brothers; they looked alike, and sounded alike, and were only a few years apart in age. And they kind of acted alike. Sitting between them was a bit eerie.

"Did we miss any?" Mark asked.

"Well, we used to call Dan Apu, but then Mom forbade me to watch the Simpsons anymore."

"That seems harsh," David said.

"Especially because it was last year, and, you know, you'd think any damage had already been done." Race rolled his eyes.

"I am so glad I'm not living at home any more." Mark shot a look down the table at their mother, slightly paranoid she might have heard that over the din of Josh and Chris, who had degenerated into outright name-calling.

"Lucky you," Race mumbled.

"Dude, Tony, get a job at another camp next summer. You know, one where she can't control your life." He paused. "If she'd let you." Pause. "Which she probably wouldn't, come to think of it."

Race groaned. "No kidding. Seriously, she never lets me do anything." He scowled. "Except for when she makes me do a bunch of crap I don't want to."

"Like.... Like what?"

"Oh, don't get him started..."

But Race continued darkly, "Like drama at school, and soccer. Just because Paul played soccer, she thinks I should. And student council, which is so freaking stupid and never does anything. And she makes me take all advanced classes and grounds me if my GPA drops below 3.3, which is really freaking hard to keep up because they're all advanced classes, plus working at the crisis line which is the only thing I want to do and I barely have time for."

David blinked a few times. "Oh. Is that all?"

He'd meant it to be sarcastic.

"No. We're not even talking yet about how she volunteers me to babysit for her friends' kids all the time, when I had other plans and don't have time anyway. Or—"

"Tony!" Mark hissed, and Race shut up suddenly. Their mother was staring at him.

He coughed guiltily. "Uh... So... When do you think dinner is gonna be here?" he asked innocently, and shot is mother that grin again.

She raised an eyebrow, and turned back to her grandchildren, sitting next to her.

"How much of that rant do you think she heard?" Mark mused.

"Oh, I am so dead."

"You really, really are."

"Hey, you could try and have some sympathy here!"

"...Not really, no." Mark shook his head and reached for a piece of bread. "I'm not even touching that if she heard you, bro."

"Great, well, this really couldn't get a whole lot worse..."

"Hey, hey, Tony!"

Race looked up to see Mike (of Mike'n'Gary, David reminded himself) yelling at him.

"Tony, what happened to that kid you used to bring with you every year? The one you had a crush on?"

Race blinked. "The one I what?"

Mike shrugged. "You always seemed to have a crush on him to me. You know, pretty guy, habitually wore a bandana...?"

"Yeah, Jack, I know who you mean, but I did not..." Race sighed. "Jack's a counselor now, anyway."

"Oooh. And hey, no counselor-camper relationships, right?"

"I did not have a crush on Jack!"

"Uh huh." Mike raised his eyebrows, Race blushed so hard it looked like he might almost explode, and everyone kind of stared at them.

Mike shrugged. "Okay, then. Just wondering where he was. Who's the new guy?"

"Uh..."

All eyes turned to David, and Race shrugged. "Dave, the family; everyone... David. Be nice, he's skittish."

"Really?" Josh—David only knew it was Josh because he was one of the ones who kept yelling about politics—asked. "David, are you a registered voter? Don't you feel that—"

"Oh lay off, he's just a kid, you fascist—"

"Who are you calling a facist, you commie—"

"Boys!" Mrs. Higgins snapped, and as always happened, silence.

David cleared his throat. "I, uh, am only sixteen."

"Oh, well then. Of course, I hope you realize the importance of keeping informed even when too young to vote, because—"

"Oh can it, Joshua," snapped one of the wives, who David hoped was married to Josh, but honestly, he had no idea.

Josh shrugged sheepishly. "Occupational hazard. At least I'm patriotic." He shot a look at Chris, and then, "OW! You didn't have to kick me! What are you, twelve?...Ow! Mom!"

Mrs. Higgins rolled her eyes. "Honestly, boys, you're in your late twenties; if you need me to break up your fights..."

"Yeah, Josh. Be more mature." Beat. "Ow!"

"Oh for the love of... Dan, trade seats with Chris, please. Could you please try not to ruin my birthday, if possible?"

"Sorry, Mom," they both apologized quickly as the seat trade was made.

David glanced at Race, who shrugged. "Should have seen that coming," he noted.

"Why they ignored the rules..." Mark sighed, and turned to David. "There are rules. Josh and Chris can't sit together, obviously. Paul and I don't sit next to each other, because he brings out the worst in me."

Race snickered, and Mark glared at him.

"Tony can't sit near Chris or Dan, because they're mean to him."

Race rolled his eyes. "You're all mean to me."

"They're worse. You're my favorite brother." Mark smirked. "You're the only one who's younger than me."

"Shut up."

"Awwww, is the poor widdle baby—"

"Shut up."

"Those were your first words, weren't they?" David asked.

Race smiled a little bit and Mark, who had been trying to take a drink of water began to laugh and slightly choke. He coughed and took a drink and said, "Actually, his first word was, 'stop!'"

"Well, that's understandable too," David noted.

"And he woke us up every morning yelling it at the top of his lungs."

"Probably I was being tortured."

"Oh oh!" One of the brothers whose name David hadn't learned jumped in. "Are we telling embarrassing Tony stories?"

"No!"

"Yes, oh we so are," Mark agreed.

But like some sort of miracle, the waiter arrived with their meals—more food that David had ever seen in one place before, he thought, which was remarkable given that his mother had Good Jewish Mother Syndrome and tended to cook enough so that an invading army could be fed, should they knock on the door, even when it was only the five of them at home.

"FOOD!"

David had no idea who'd yelled it, but he was pretty sure it was about four of them. And Josh and Chris went silent about politics as they salivated, Mark and whichever brother had been tormenting Race (and Race himself) all stared at the waiter, and even the children went nearly silent.

It was probably the quietest the restaurant was all evening.

*

It seemed oddly quiet after all the noise of dinner as Race and David walked from the parking lot back down to their bunk.

"So... traumatized?" Race asked.

"Not... Really..." David shrugged. "It was different. Kind of... Loud. I mean, but your family is really... interesting."

"That's one way of putting it."

The grass crunched over their feet and David could feel some slight dew beginning to soak through his sneakers. "Um... What was it your one brother said?"

"Can you be a little more specific?"

"About you. And Jack."

"Oh, Mike. Uh, he..." He shrugged. "He always joked about how cute Jack was, said Jack tipped his gaydar. And he was right, but he's been teasing me about it for years, saying I've got a crush on him and all."

"Oh. That's all?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

The silence was a little awkward, and finally Racetrack sighed.

"He's a real great guy, David, like a brother to me. As if I didn't have enough of them already. I'm happy for you two."

"Thanks." David smiled a little bit. "You okay, Race? Your brothers seemed to kind of overwhelm you a bit."

"If by 'overwhelm' you mean 'beat up'..." He laughed. "Yeah, I just need a few days to recover."

They slipped into the bunk quietly. David was full and content, though definitely overwhelmed, and Racetrack was just quiet. Somehow, the louder his family got, the quieter he was at the end of the night.

[End Chapter Twenty-Four]
Chapter 25: Friends and Relations