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“Dad,” Ethan practically squeaked The man ambled into the kitchen, but no such luck with Devon who plopped down in the chair Lucy had been sitting in and reached for the TV remote

“You knohat you need to do, right?” I said to Ethan as I settled h

“No, it’s your turn”

I shook my head “I did it last time”

“No, you didn’t”

“Yes, I did,” I said firmly

“It’s your turn, little brother,” Devon said without looking away froh the sports channels “Cain did it last time”

“How do you even knoe’re talking about?” Ethan asked

“Because you have the same conversation every time you have the house to yourselves for a little while And since I heard Lucy telling Mo to the ht…”

Devon’s eyes finally shifted to us “Your turn to fake the headache so you guys can get out of here tonight, Ethan”

“So, does everyone knoe’re faking it?” Ethan asked

“Pretty much”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like what?” Devon asked

“I don’t know, so!” Ethan said in exasperation

Devon thought on it for a moment and then suddenly yelled, “Moht!”

“Devon!” Ethan shouted

“Which one has the headache this tiht?” I heard Ethan’s dad call just before Ethan’s face went bright red and he buried it against hed and kissed the top of his head

“Told you it was your turn”

“Oh God, right there,” Ethan groaned as his hands closed over ed tothe bedroo with me on the drive home from his parents’ house, ere lucky we’d even et us to the bedroo in on us if she happened to end her night early…or we lost track of time, which had happened before