Page 17 of Exchanged

Communicate openly and honestly. Express frustrations in a kind and constructive manner. Left unspoken, small issues can build into major conflicts as the year progresses.

Remember that pleasantries go a long way! Polite language, warm greetings, and friendly smiles help create a strong foundation for mutual respect. Don’t underestimate their importance.

—From The Global Youth Ambassadors Handbook,

Section 3: “Tips for Cross-Cultural Success”

SIX

Over the next week—the last one before school starts—Garrett and I fall into coexistence, like two musicians seated on opposite sides of an orchestra, members of the same ensemble who never interact. We ease into routines that help us ignore the person sleeping across the hallway.

Garrett begins attending football practice twice a day, and soon he’s the starting wide receiver on the varsity team. I still don’t know what that means, other than he runs fast and catches the ball, but Dad’s reaction makes me think it’s a big deal. Garrett is gone most of the day and out with Tyler and Evan most nights. I keep myself busy by composing sketches for my online music theory class, going to marching band practice, and working shifts at the store. When we’re both home for dinner, Dad and Emma act as buffers so he and I don’t have to talk to each other.

On Friday night, Dad, Emma, and I are cleaning the kitchen before our weekly board game night.

“You picked Lords of the Shadowrealm for Garrett’s first game night?” Dad asks when I announce it as my choice for the week. It’s a game where each player acts as a specific race of fantasy creature and vies to control a large map of a mystical world. There are a lot of rules.

“Why would Garrett come for board game night?” I ask. He hasn’t been home since he left for football this morning, and there’s a party at Tyler’s place tonight.

“He’s coming,” Dad says. “He texted that he should be home soon. He went out with some friends, but he said he didn’t want to miss this.”

“The two of you text?”

Dad looks at me like I’ve asked the most obvious question in the world. “You and I text.”

“So?”

“So what kind of host dad would I be if I didn’t know where Garrett was?”

I hadn’t thought of that before. I’d always assumed Garrett moved in and out of our house unchecked, more like a renter than a teenager who had to ask permission for things.

As if Dad had summoned him, Garrett walks through the back door, dropping his duffel in the mudroom on his way to the kitchen. His bare arms radiate August heat, and he’s wearing short shorts and a backward cap. He seems so out of place in our kitchen, helping himself to leftovers with lazy, confident movements.

He’s followed closely by Aunt Liz, a grocery bag in each arm. She sets them on the counter, starts pulling everyone within reach into hugs, and then begins unpacking cheeses and meats and bottles of olives.

“I’m not the biggest board game player,” she tells Garrett. “But I don’t want to miss the fun, so”—she gestures at the deli arrayed across our counter—“I bring the snacks.”

Dad eyes the spread. “I do feed them, you know.”

“Never enough, though.” She begins throwing blocks of cheese onto cutting boards with religious zeal while the rest of us head into the dining room.

Twenty minutes later, the game board is set up and we’re nearly done explaining the rules to Garrett. His eyes are narrowed, and he scowls at each stack of cards and each pile of pieces as we explain what they do.

“And these are the power-ups you can buy to boost your army’s stats,” Emma says, pointing at a deck near the board.

He nods.

“And you buy them with the resources gained by your workforce,” I add, gesturing at the mound of workers next to him.

“Uh-huh.”

“But your Lords, they’re different,” Emma says. “They can only be bought with faith tokens.”

“Okay.”

I point at several spaces on the board. “And you get those from controlling the Ancient Sites of Power.”

“Or,” Dad interjects, “we could play Yahtzee instead. Everyone likes Yahtzee. Not as intense for Garrett’s first game night.”