“Guys, I’m sorry,” I said in a yawn. “But I’m getting tired. I’ve gotta stop.” “I’m hungry,” Rena said by way of agreement. “Reno,” Grayson said, holding up the atlas to see it in the headlight beam of the car behind us. He glanced backward and grinned. “Your brother?” She blinked at him. “I don’t have a brother.” “No, I meant… you know… Rena… Reno. Never mind. It was a bad joke.” But Rena laughed, breathily. “Yeah,” she said through her giggles. “It really was.” “He gets it from my dad,” I said, and Grayson snorted, nodding. “My dad’s the worst joke teller ever. You know his favorite? What should you do if you see a sleeping goat? Call the police! You’ve just witnessed a kidnapping.” “Har-har-har!” Grayson mimicked Dad’s laugh. “Now, don’t you kids go telling that one to all your friends and taking the credit,” he said in a voice that sounded remarkably like our dad’s. “Like we ever would,” I said. We spent the next few minutes telling all the dumbest jokes we could think of, and I couldn’t help feeling a squeeze in my heart for my dad.
