Spencer said later that day, having returned from schlepping all of Mrs. Amberson’s bags to The St. Regis in a cab, “what now? You have no job. I have no job. Wanna play Jenga?”Scarlett didn’t reply. She was flat-out on her bed, staring at the yellowing ceiling. Spencer was on the floor next to her, doing the same.“Oh, right,” Spencer continued into the silence. “We don’t have Jenga. Wanna just keep pulling out your dresser drawers until it falls apart? Same thing!”“I can’t believe this,” Scarlett said.“I know. Everyone has Jenga.”“Why did she leave?”“Maybe because all of our stuff falls apart when you touch it. Like Jenga.”Scarlett rolled to the side of the bed.“If you say Jenga again, I’m going to tell Mom and Dad about that time you said you were going away for the weekend to learn about opera singing, but you really went to that party in the Green Mountains to try to hit on that girl, Anika. Didn’t you end up sleeping in a car all weekend because she wouldn’t let you in?”Spencer had been through this many times, but was prepared to oblige.“Her boyfriend wouldn’t let me in.
