"Alex, someone's calling," I said, keeping both of my hands firmly gripped on the sparkly handlebars so we wouldn't swerve into a parked car. "Can you pick it up? It's in my right pocket. Yes, right there."
Alex carefully let go of my waist with one hand, leaning around my side. I felt her nimble fingers slip into my hoodie pocket, fishing out the small silver phone. She flipped it open with a satisfying click and checked the tiny, glowing caller ID screen.
"Oh, it's Mom," Alex announced.
She pressed the green answer button and brought the phone up to her ear.
Instantly, even over the rushing sound of the wind, I could hear the sheer, frantic, unadulterated panic radiating from the phone's tiny speaker.
"Luke?! Honey, where are you?!" Claire's voice practically exploded from the device, vibrating with absolute maternal terror. "Is your football club not finished yet?! Do you know where your sister is?! I've been calling her cell for twenty minutes, but her phone is completely switched off! I am losing my mind over here!"
Alex and I both jumped slightly in surprise at the sheer volume and intensity of her panic.
"Mom! Mom, calm down, it's me! It's Alex!" Alex hurriedly spoke into the receiver, trying to defuse the bomb before Claire called the police or the National Guard. "We are totally fine. My phone died during last period, I forgot to charge it last night. I'm so sorry for worrying you."
Claire let out a massive, shuddering sigh of relief that sounded exactly like a deflating hot air balloon. "Oh, sweetie... thank God! I am so glad to hear your voice. I was having heart palpitations! The house is an absolute madhouse right now, and when I couldn't reach you, my imagination went straight to the worst possible places. Where are you guys? Why aren't you home yet?"
"We just crossed the halfway distance," Alex explained, leaning her head forward so the phone was positioned perfectly between her mouth and my right ear, allowing both of us to participate in the conversation. "I'm riding on the back of Luke's bike."
"You're on the back of the pink bike?!" Claire asked, sounding both amazed that I was actually strong enough to pedal two people, and newly stressed about our physical safety. "Luke, are you pedaling safely? Please tell me you aren't trying to do any jumps off the sidewalks or race the neighborhood dogs!"
"I am the living definition of safe, Mom," I spoke loudly, turning my head slightly toward the phone. "We're cruising at a very relaxed, elderly speed. Smooth sailing. Everything is perfectly good."
"Okay, good. Just... please, hurry up but come safely," Claire urged, her voice suddenly dropping into a highly stressed, frantic hushed whisper.
"I really, really need you kids here right now. Your Grandmother DeDe is... well, she's in rare form today. She just spent ten minutes reorganizing my spice cabinet because she said my alphabetical system lacked 'spiritual flow'. I need backup before I lose my mind and say something I'll regret."
Before either Alex or I could respond to that terrifying piece of information, a sudden scuffle erupted on the other end of the line.
"Claire, dear, who are you whispering to in the pantry? Is that the children?" A new, incredibly enthusiastic, and overly sweet female voice echoed through the phone. Even through the distorted speaker, I instantly recognized it from my hazy memories.
It was the Final Boss. Grandma DeDe.
"Mom, give me the phone back, I'm just checking on their ETA—" Claire's voice hissed defensively, clearly trying to shield the phone with her body.
There was a loud rustling sound, a sharp thud that sounded exactly like an elbow hitting a wooden kitchen counter, and then DeDe's voice came through loud and clear, practically dripping with sugary, toxic manipulation.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! My sweet, precious grandchildren!" DeDe sang enthusiastically into the receiver, having successfully wrestled the phone away from her adult daughter. "Come home fast! Your Granny DeDe is here, and she wants to meet you both after such a long, long time! I brought special, organic Tibetan goji berries for us to snack on while we align our chakras!"
"Mom, they don't want weird goji berries, they want pizza—" Claire argued fiercely in the background.
"Don't interrupt me, Claire, I am bonding with my lineage! You are smothering them with your nervous energy!" DeDe snapped passively at her daughter, before immediately switching her tone back to pure, dripping sweetness for the phone.
"Luke, my special little boy, and Alex, my brilliant scholar! Hurry home! We have so much to catch up on before your grandfather makes the absolute biggest mistake of his entire—"
"Okay, Mom, that is enough phone time!" Claire's voice shouted, finally snapping.
A massive physical struggle broke out over the phone. We could hear the chaotic sounds of the receiver being fumbled between hands, heavy breathing, and what sounded like a wooden spoon hitting the linoleum floor.
"Let go, Claire! I am speaking to my flesh and blood!" DeDe shrieked.
"You are poisoning their minds before the rehearsal dinner even starts! Give it to me!" Claire yelled back, fully engaging in the tug-of-war.
Then, a third voice—a much deeper, highly dramatic, and incredibly panicked male voice—entered the chaotic fray.
"Oh! Oh my gosh! Ladies, please! DeDe, watch the phone cord! Claire, do not lunge! You're going to knock over the floral centerpiece I just spent two exhausting hours arranging!" It was Uncle Cam, stepping in to play the desperate, theatrical peacekeeper. "Mitchell, do something! They're crushing the hydrangeas!"
"Cameron, stay out of this, she is trying to silence me with her negative aura!" DeDe yelled.
After a final, loud BAM that sounded like a heavy pantry door being slammed shut and locked, Claire's heavy, victorious breathing came back over the line. She had evidently won the physical struggle for the flip phone and barricaded herself inside the food closet for privacy.
"Okay!" Claire panted, trying incredibly hard to make her voice sound completely normal and utterly unbothered, though she sounded like she had just run a sprint. "So... you both come home safely. Don't worry about anything you just heard. Your mom is good. We are all good. The flowers are fine. Everything is perfectly fine. See you in ten minutes! Bye!"
Click. The line went dead.
Alex slowly lowered the flip phone from my ear. She stared at the blank, black screen for a solid five seconds, looking absolutely horrified, before numbly slipping it back into my hoodie pocket.
She let out a heavy, incredibly long sigh that seemed to drain her soul. She slumped her head right back down against my spine, slowly rolling her forehead to and fro in pure, unadulterated despair.
"Oh, gosh..." Alex groaned miserably, her voice muffled against my back. "A real storm is cooking in there. And it's happening even before the actual wedding rehearsal officially begins tomorrow. God only knows what disastrous things are going to happen when Grandpa Jay and Gloria actually walk into the same room as her."
My eyes, however, perked up with distinct amusement.
Unlike Alex, who dreaded the chaotic, embarrassing sitcom reality of our family, my nineteen-year-old soul viewed this entire situation as premium, high-definition entertainment. I had a front-row seat to the greatest reality show on earth, and I didn't even have to pay a cable subscription fee or sit through commercials.
This is going to be amazing, I thought, a lazy, highly anticipated smirk pulling at the corners of my mouth. I'll just grab a massive bowl of popcorn, find a comfortable, safe corner on the living room sofa, and watch the drama unfold lazily.
But as I pedaled closer to our neighborhood, turning onto our familiar cul-de-sac street, a sudden, protective thought flickered through my mind.
Okay, I'll watch, I compromised with myself. But if that crazy old lady goes too far and actually tries to hurt Mom's feelings or makes Alex cry... maybe I will need to intervene. Who knows? A lazy king still has to protect his subjects from invading forces. It's the burden of leadership.
"Hold on tight," I called back to Alex, standing up on the pedals to give us a final, powerful burst of speed. "We're almost in the warzone."
The large, two-story Dunphy house finally came into view at the end of the street. The driveway was already packed with cars, signaling that the pre-wedding chaos was fully underway inside.
I squeezed the handbrakes, and the pink chariot squeaked to a halt right in front of the brick mailbox. I let out a deep breath, preparing my mental defenses. The Final Boss was waiting inside, and my peaceful second life was about to get incredibly loud.