Read The Great American Whatever for Free Online Page B

out—”
    â€œAnd you only get a minute each, no cheating ,” Geoff goes. He cracks his knuckles and punches his fist into his hand, acting all mock competitive. It makes me laugh. This is going to be fine .
    â€œFirst round!” Carly goes, grabbing the hat. “My house, my rules. Devon, you’re up.”
    Somebody offers to time the rounds on their phone, and we’re off.
    â€œOkay,” Devon says, looking at her first slip of paper and bouncing up and down a little. “Wait, can I, like, pass?”
    â€œFifty seconds left!” the timer from the other team says. I dare myself to glance at Amir. He is the only person on our team looking at Devon with a small smile on his face—a face that’s distinguished by this jawline you could open a manila envelope with. Anyway, whatever. His little smile. It is the sweetest thing. Everybody else is teasing Devon for being so stuck on the first round. But Amir is smiling, smiling. The kind of smile you have to name twice.
    â€œTime!” the timekeeper calls, and Devon slaps her hands down and goes, “I didn’t even know who it was ! It was like a long Russian name or something!” She shows the paper to us and somebody from the other team kicks her in the butt and says, “No cheating!” and she falls onto the floor and puts her feet against the aquarium and sighs.
    â€œLet’s go in order of birthdays,” someone suggests. “Like, whoever’s birthday is next should just go.”
    A Pittsburgh guy goes, “My birthday’s on Tuesday!” and a bunch of girls go, “Aww, Josh!” like he just admitted he’s not actually a human guy but in fact fifteen puppies in a tank top. Josh gets up and takes the hat and suddenly the game gets serious , though I’m not really thinking about that. I’m thinking about the fact that my birthday is this coming Sunday.
    â€œGo.”
    Josh grabs the first celebrity. “Okay, he owns like a million buildings and has crazy hair that looks like a frittata!”
    â€œDonald Trump!”
    Josh doesn’t even say yes ; he just throws the clue down and we non-natives moan but also secretly love that now we’re all about something, together.
    LIFE HACK: That’s all anyone ever wants.
    â€œOkay,” Josh goes, “he used to be, like, the biggest movie star ever when our parents were our age, but then he went crazy.”
    â€œTom Cruise!”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œJohn Travolta!”
    â€œYes!”
    Ugh. Biggest movie star ever? Marlon Brando much?
    Whatever. Next. Josh twists a piece of hair between his fingers, and he’s starting to sweat, and this is the most cardio-intense party game I’ve ever seen. “Okay,” Josh goes, “You get a car, and you get a car, and you get a car.”
    The Pittsburghers erupt into laughter and everybody shouts, “Oprah!”—even my team does—and oh my God wait till they get to one of my names and are blown away that the cute kid is actually a mature man.
    â€œOkay,” Josh goes, trying not to laugh, “I think he was, like, a famous mime.”
    â€œTime!” Carly calls out. She’s boogying around and eating some of the hummus that I brought. Nobody seems to mind the fact that I brought “another hummus” now. Life can be so weird.
    â€œWho’s up? Who’s up?” somebody goes, and since I don’t have a phone to pretend I’m getting a text, I fake a big yawn.
    â€œQuinny, your birthday’s on Sunday, right?”
    I am going to kill Geoff.
    â€œBirthday boy! Birthday boy!” He attempts to start a chant. Fail.
    I get up and wonder how sweaty my butt looks in my shorts and if I’ll recognize a single celebrity name, and I pray pray pray I pick one of my own. I know just how to act out Hitchcock. Please: Crouch like birds are attacking, shriek like you’re being stabbed in a shower,