They'd deal with Leo after New Year's Eve. No matter what, they weren't going to let some piece of trash ruin the holiday.
Ours was a big family, with more relatives than you could count, and every year the holidays were loud and lively. This year was no different. For convenience, the elders all gathered at our house.
The men took over the kitchen, cooking up a feast. The women played cards and caught up on gossip. I took the younger kids out to the yard, where we set off firecrackers and fireworks.
Pop after pop after pop, and then the sky lit up. Bursts of color bloomed overhead, reds and golds and silvers, each one blazing against the dark like a brief, brilliant star.
When the clock struck midnight, the yard erupted with voices. "Happy New Year!" Everyone hugged, laughed, wished each other well.
Even my phone screen lit up, buzzing with messages. Friends, old classmates, distant relatives, all sending their wishes. I replied to each one, smiling.
Then I saw it. A message from Leo.
"Done playing around? Where are you? Why haven't you come over yet? My family's all here waiting to meet you!"
My brows pinched together so hard they ached.