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“And they lived happily ever after,” Andrew finished, closing the book.
He looked at the twins lying between him and Neil on their bed. At that moment, even more than usual, he appreciated that Neil had talked him into that big bed.
The first time the girls slept at their place, they had prepared a guest room for them, but the twins decided that their bed was more comfortable, so they ceded it to them. However, after the lights went out, they declared that both the bed and the room were too big, which could attract monsters. Ivy swore she even saw one in the corner. Thus, they all ended up sleeping on the bed, with the twins between them, so they could protect them from said monsters. And thanks to the size of the bed, everyone had plenty of room, and they didn't have to sleep in a squeeze.
But reading stories had to be done in a squeeze. Iris had her head on Neil's chest and was counting freckles on his hand. Ivy, on the other hand, watched them with boredom, her feet lying on Andrew's stomach.
“Boring,” Ivy said, and Iris nodded.
Neil looked at Andrew with amusement. “We’ll read another one then.”
“We already know all of them,” sighed Iris, looking at the stash of books they brought from home. “Are fairy tales even true or not?”
“Well,” Andrew started, “what do you mean by true?”
“I mean, did that happen in real life?”
“Well, that one certainly didn’t.” Seeing the identical scowls on the twins’ faces, he added. “But they’ve got true things in them.”
“Like what?” Ivy asked in interest.
“It’s not good to be greedy and stuff.” Neil mouthed and stuff back at him mockingly, so Andrew mouthed shut up, which made the idiot smile. “And if you’re brave and honest, things will work out,” he added. Neil raised one eyebrow at him.
“Uncle Neil’s a liar, but things seem to be working out for him,” Iris pointed out.
“Exactly, thank you,” he said, tousling her hair, at which she giggled. “And I’m not a liar.”
“Yes, you are,” the three said in unison.
Neil scoffed in disbelief. “You want to hear a fairy tale that is true?” Andrew asked before he could answer.
“Yes!”
The boredom on their faces was replaced by excitement. They quickly lay down on their stomachs between the men, sending Andrew an expectant gaze. Andrew adjusted his pillow so he could look at them. “It’s about a mean brother, a curse, and a prince.”
“A prince—?”
“And it happened in real life?” Ivy interjected Neil.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?” asked Iris doubtfully.
Andrew leaned towards them. “Because it happened to me,” he whispered, as if he were telling them a secret.
The twins’ eyes widened in shock, and Neil rolled his eyes behind them.
“It all started on our vacation at Aunt Maria and Uncle Luther's summer house…” Andrew began.
— ✩ —
Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky raced their bikes through the woods. When Andrew spotted the finish line, which was their favorite tree to climb, he started pedaling with all his might, quickly overtaking Aaron, who, as always, used most of his strength at the start of the race. He managed to overtake Nicky only a few seconds before crossing the finish line, but his victory was uncontested.
Andrew grinned and braked violently, turning the bike one hundred eighty degrees. The maneuver caused a full hill of dust to rise from the ground, surrounding him up to handlebar height. He proudly looked at the mark left on the ground by his wheels. Nicky braked just as violently right next to him and caused a smaller hill of dust.
“Good skid, Nicky,” Andrew said, and Nicky smiled. Finally, exhausted Aaron also approached them, trying to do a skid of his own, but it was so clumsy that his bike barely made a squeaking sound, let alone kicked up any dust. “You still can’t skid, Aaron,” Andrew noted.
“Yes, I can,” Aaron argued. “It's just not as phenomenal as yours.”
“That was not a skid. It was a pathetic attempt at it,” Andrew answered. Nicky sighed between them. Aaron was opening his mouth to argue back, but Andrew was faster: “And Aunt Maria wants you.”
“Huh?” he asked, confused, looking around.
“Made you look, you dirty chook!” Andrew laughed, and Aaron sent him an angry glance. “Sucker!”
“Andrew, stop teasing Aaron,” Nicky said, frowning at his cousin.
“Make me,” Andrew snorted. Nicky just sighed again.
Aaron rolled his eyes at his brother and started cycling away. Andrew waited five seconds and screamed, “Hey, Aaron! Your wheels are turning!”
“What?!” Aaron screamed back.
He leaned to the right and looked at the wheels, as if to see what was wrong with them. He didn’t see either any problem or the large rock in his path. By the time he looked up, it was too late. The wheel hit the stone, and Aaron flew out of the saddle over the handlebars and rolled across the ground, landing on his face.
Nicky squealed, and Andrew burst out laughing. “Aaron?!” Nicky asked hesitantly.
“I’m okay,” Aaron replied in a pained voice.
Nicky let out a sigh of relief and looked at Andrew with indignation. Andrew knew he was about to be scolded, so while he still could, he said, “Made you look, you dirty—”
“Chook!” Andrew and Nicky said at the same time.
Oh no.
“Jinx!” Nicky screamed, throwing his bike on the ground and taking off running.
Andrew’s bike met the same fate as its owner went right after him.
“One!” Nicky screamed.
He was running slalom through the forest trees, trying to lose Andrew.
“Two!” he screamed as they reached the caravan park.
“Three!” as they passed their favorite diner.
“Four!” after they almost ran into an old man carrying a pack of beers.
He screamed, “Five!” before stepping onto somebody’s picnic blanket. The owners were nowhere in sight, so he kicked the folding chair behind him.
Despite Nicky’s efforts, Andrew was right on his heels.
He heard the “Six!” and knew if he reached for him, he’d only need a little more to touch him.
“Seven!” made him try to speed up, but he could feel himself slowly losing strength.
Nicky ran into the palm grove, which would lead them to the beach. “Eight!”
He could already see the beach when Nicky screamed, “Nine!” and knew he would lose.
He gave his all when they touched the sand, but it was too late. The final “Ten!” was quickly followed by a “Skint!” and now Andrew was cursed.
Nicky stopped, and Andrew fell right behind him. His cousin looked down at him in victory. Andrew would love to punch him in the face for his smugness, but he was too tired to get up and do it. And he couldn’t tell him fuck you either; he couldn’t say anything, because he was cursed. The thought made him grit his teeth in anger.
If two people said the exact same word at the exact same time, one of them would yell out jinx. Which meant the other person had 10 seconds to touch them. If they didn’t touch them in those 10 seconds, the winner would say skint. And the loser could never speak again.
It was a stupid game, but the rules were the rules. So he kept his mouth shut, which made Nicky smile even wider.
“Maybe now you’ll learn how to be nicer,” he said and left.
Andrew picked up a handful of sand and threw it after him.
This was going to be the worst day, if not days, of Andrew’s entire life.
He spent some time lying on the sand, defeated, but finally decided just to get up and act like it didn’t bother him. He went to their summer house, where he saw Aunt Maria and Aaron. Aaron had a bandage on his forehead, where he had probably injured himself when he fell off his bike. What a crybaby.
When he entered the room, Aunt Maria looked at him in anger. “Is it true, Andrew? Is this your fault?” she asked, pointing at Aaron. Andrew couldn’t say anything, so he just stood there, silent, looking very guilty.
He bravely endured his aunt's litany about how dangerous his misdeed was and that he could have hurt his poor brother. When she was looking at Aaron, he would make a pained expression, but once her furious eyes returned to Andrew, he would have the biggest grin. But even with that big smile, there was something miserable behind his eyes. Andrew looked at him questioningly when he noticed it again, but Aaron had just looked away from him. He had decided to let it go— for now.
Aaron suggested going to a shop with an arcade machine, to which Andrew agreed by nodding. While they were playing, Aaron kept asking if Andrew wanted him to say his name. Another stupid rule of the game — you could only speak again if someone said your name. But Andrew knew Aaron wouldn’t free him so easily. Aaron began finishing sentences with the most random words that would start with “an” to give him hope for freedom. The first time it happened, Andrew just looked at him with disbelief, which made him laugh. Then he began ignoring him completely, deciding to focus on the screen.
As Andrew suspected, being cursed was not a lot of fun when you’re on holiday.
He was standing next to Nicky and Aaron, who were playing on the Atari Pong machine in one of the caravan park diners. Aunt Maria was in front of the counter, placing their order. “Kids, do you want your fish battered or crumbed?” she asked.
Nicky and Aaron both wanted battered, and so did Andrew, so he nodded in agreement. Aunt Maria had her back to them, so she didn't see it. Not hearing Andrew's answer, she turned to him with irritation.
“What about you? Come on, speak up,” she said.
“He wants crumbs,” Aaron said. Andrew looked at him in disbelief, and Aaron just smiled smugly. He started to shake his head at Aunt Maria, but she had already turned around. It was too late. “He loves crumbs,” Aaron roared, “don’t you, An… dishwasher?”
He laughed with Nicky. Andrew hated them and crumbled.
After the, in Andrew’s opinion, disgusting dinner, the cousins were sitting on the porch, reading comics, when a furious Aunt Maria got out of the house with an empty box. “Who ate all the mini cereals?”
They all did, hiding under the table before she or Uncle Luther even woke up. But Andrew wasn’t surprised when the traitors said, “Andrew,” without a second thought.
Before they even finished answering, he took off running to the woman’s screams and their laughter. He could hear her running after him for a moment, but she got tired fast, and he heard her curse him when she stopped.
He found Uncle Luther fishing. For a moment, he tried to get him to say his name, but the man didn't really remember it. Resigned, he sat down next to him, helping him with the bait.
Uncle Luther greatly appreciated his unexpected silence, which he expressed with a lecture on how children should be seen and not heard. Andrew just rolled his eyes now and then, because that was all he had left.
After a while, Nicky and Aaron came and started looking for seashells. Andrew joined them. They dug through the beach, listening in the background to the repeated lecture of the man, who was now trying to figure out how to silence the rest of the children as well. The cousins only exchanged irritated glances when he started to speak again.
Andrew's finger hit something metal. He furrowed his brow and began digging more intensely until he reached a rusty key. It was clearly old. It had a short blade and a long neck, ending in what looked like an anchor. He showed it to the boys, who made no secret of their envy of his find. Andrew smiled to himself, considering the key a reward for the day.
In the end, Nicky found five shells and two nice stones, Aaron found six shells, and Andrew had his key and two shells. Uncle Luther, Nicky, and Aaron went home for dinner, while Andrew decided to stay and look at the water.
He tried to come to terms with the idea that this was what his life would be like now— no one would say his name, and eventually everyone would forget what his voice even sounded like.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, staring at the calm water, but finally, Aunt Maria found him. She sat down next to him.
“I’m not gonna say your name,” she warned. “I think this will do you some good. All holiday you’ve been mean to your brother. This is a chance for you to have a good think about it.”
Andrew thought about how he had made fun of Aaron's inability to learn how to skateboard. How he had refused to let him take his turn on the arcade machine. How he had laughed when Aaron fell while trying to do a skid on his bike. How he took fries from his plate when he wasn't looking, or went to the bathroom. How he took some of Nicky's chocolate and blamed Aaron.
Yeah, maybe he was a bit mean. He hadn’t been a good brother to Aaron. He deserved to be cursed.
— ✩ —
The next morning, Andrew was walking to the shower block to brush his teeth. The sun had not yet fully risen, so the world was still dimly lit. He was looking boredly at his orange toothbrush when suddenly, he heard Aaron’s voice and stopped.
“Ow! Aunt Maria!” he screamed painfully.
Andrew rushed in the direction of his brother’s voice and found him barefoot, holding his own toothbrush, stuck in the prickles. He must have tried to take a shortcut to the toilet.
“Help!” Aaron screamed. “It hurts!”
Andrew tapped his toothbrush to let his brother know he was there. Hearing the sound, Aaron turned to him.
Aaron needed help getting out of the prickles. It was a perfect chance for Andrew to get his voice back. He could force him to say his name in exchange for help.
But Andrew saw the resignation in Aaron’s eyes as he realized that same thing—the face of someone who had just realized that their peace would be taken away yet again. At school, he had seen some kids being mean to Aaron and noticed that exact expression every time Aaron saw them approaching him. Aaron didn’t know—nobody knew, Andrew would never tell anyone—that he had scared the kids off. Giving one of them a black eye at the end of this school year was enough to convince them to leave his brother alone.
Andrew thought of the happy, glittering sparks he saw on his twin's face when they met for the first time, the fight he put on with his mother to take him back, how excited he was to have a brother, a twin, just for him to tease him all the time. Maybe they were brothers, and it was normal for brothers to act this way—at least from what he’d seen on the internet, not that he googled how one should act or bond or anything like that with his brother—but Andrew should have known that, considering Aaron’s school history, it wouldn’t be so fun for him.
He just wanted them to be normal siblings, even with their certainly not normal history—he just didn’t know how to do this. He certainly didn’t want Aaron to view him as one of his bullies. He had been waiting for Aaron to tease him back since he had started. He hadn’t realized that he had been hurting him this much.
Suddenly, he felt bad. Really, really bad.
They had been staring at each other for what felt like ages when Aaron finally spoke up, “Okay, fine,” he said, and his shoulders dropped. “Can you help me, An—?”
He was cut off by a toothbrush hitting him on his forehead. He barely caught it in time, before it fell to the ground. He looked at Andrew in irritation. “What was that?!”
Andrew ignored him. He took off his basketball hat and threw it on the ground between them. Then he reached out his hand and sent his brother an expectant look.
Aaron stared at him in shock. “What do you want?”
Andrew just stared at him some more.
Aaron looked at the hat between them, as if trying to locate the trap hidden there. When he hadn’t seen anything like that there, he looked at Andrew sceptically again. Andrew motioned for him to just move. His hand was starting to hurt.
Finally, Aaron took a deep breath and jumped on the hat, reaching his hand out to his brother. Andrew caught it immediately, helping him get balance on just one foot. He held him tight, while Aaron jumped again, landing on the pavement, finally free from the pickles.
Aaron looked at him, unsure. “Thanks?” he said, but it sounded more like a question. Andrew just shrugged.
The movement reminded both of them that they were still holding hands, and they both immediately let go of each other, embarrassed.
“What do you want?” Aaron asked again, not meeting Andrew’s eyes. Like he couldn’t believe he would do something nice to him for no reason.
Andrew considered him for a second and then pointed at his orange toothbrush.
“You want your toothbrush back?” he asked, looking at him in shock. Andrew nodded. “The one you threw at me?” Another nod.
Aaron considered him for a second and laughed, throwing the toothbrush back in his hands. “Wow, you’re such a loser,” he said and immediately took off running, as if scared of Andrew’s reaction.
Andrew blinked at the spot where Aaron just stood. Then he snorted—he couldn’t believe that he was proud of him for doing that. He looked at the toothbrush in his hand, as if it would answer him.
“Andrew Minyard,” he heard a boyish voice from behind him, and froze. “Yours?”
Andrew slowly turned around and saw a boy holding his hat. He must have read the tag with Andrew’s name on it, which was inside.
The boy looked battered and tired—not only like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks, but also as if the world already bruised him inside and out, and then spat him out. No kid should look like that, but Andrew had seen it way too many times.
He was skinny and small. Even smaller than Andrew, which was a surprise. He was wearing a hoodie that was way too big for him, just like his pants. His too-long brown hair was sticking out of the hood pulled over his head.
“Yeah,” Andrew said and took the hat from his outstretched arm, then put it back on. The boy was still looking at him. “What?”
“Shouldn’t you thank me for getting your hat?”
“I knew it was there.”
The boy tilted his head and raised a brow at him. The movement caused his collar to shift, revealing a bruise in the shape of a hand on his collarbone. When he realized what Andrew was looking at, he fixed his hoodie. “What’s your name?” Andrew asked, intrigued.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“You know mine, it’s only fair.”
“It’s also fair to thank someone when they give you your thing back,” the boy noted.
Andrew just stared at him. After a moment of silence, the boy just sighed. “Fine. It’s Alex.”
Andrew considered him for a moment longer. “You don’t look like an Alex,” he said.
Not-Alex snorted. “And you look like an Andrew?”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I am Andrew, and you’re not Alex.”
The boy’s lips turned into a thin line, and Andrew could see the battle playing behind his eyes—he was looking at him with a piercing gaze, trying to find something. Andrew let him see whatever he needed.
“My mom calls me Abram,” he finally said quietly, as if afraid that someone else could hear him, even though they were there completely alone.
It wasn’t the complete truth, but it was as close to it as Andrew would get. He didn’t know why Abram chose to tell him that—maybe he was just tired of having to lie all the time—but he knew that he would keep his secret safe.
“See? Wasn’t so hard, Pinocchio.”
“A thank you isn’t hard either.”
“Oh, thank you, my darling Abram,” he said mockingly.
He blinked upon hearing his name from Andrew’s mouth, and a different look crossed his eyes, but it went away too quickly for Andrew to recognize what it truly was.
“See? Wasn’t so hard, asshole,” he said, but Andrew could see his lips twitching up.
“Aren’t you too young to know that word? Who taught you that?” Andrew asked just to prove that the statement was true.
Abram rolled his eyes so hard, Andrew almost couldn’t see his irises. He looked up at the sky, as if he wanted to ask the disappearing stars if they had heard that too. It made the hood slide off his head. “You’re like my age.”
“Sure. I could literally spit on the top of your head,” Andrew snorted, making a show of looking down at him. “Are you even old enough to be here all alone?” he added, before Abram could argue back.
“I’m not alone. I’m here with my mom,” Abram said.
“Vacation?”
“Yeah,” he lied.
“Is this why she let you dye your hair?” he asked, pointing at his head with his chin, and Abram froze. His shoulders became tense again. “Your roots are showing. They’re lighter.”
“Just stop asking these questions,” he said tensely.
Andrew ignored him. “The whole point of vacation is that you go somewhere and then you go home, but you don’t look like you have a home to go back to.”
“What gave it away? You watched some shitty, psychological movie at your school?” Abram asked mockingly.
“I know the look of a stray from my own mirror,” he answered, which shut Abram up. “I was a foster kid. This is my first real vacation. I never even owned keys before.”
“Me neither,” Abram said, oh so quietly, lowering his gaze.
He didn’t know why he told Abram that—he wasn’t hiding it exactly, but he wasn’t that proud of it either—but the look on Abram’s face now was worth it. Considering how he was looking around them all the time, Andrew knew they were on borrowed time. Abram would have to return to his mother soon, but it was enough that he knew he wasn’t the only one in such a situation, and if it worked out for Andrew, there was hope it would work out for him, too.
He didn’t need to know that the adults in Andrew’s life weren’t perfect now, either. He had Aaron and Nicky. And Abram just needed hope.
Andrew wanted him to hold onto that and not let go. He almost did himself. His arms were littered with proof of that, but the weight of the key with a keychain from his brother in his pocket was proof of something else.
He suddenly remembered he had another key on him.
He fished the rusty key out of his other pocket. He was glad he carried it around in fear of his brother or cousin stealing it.
“Here,” he said and gave it to Abram. “Now you do.”
The boy examined the object in his hand and gently ran his fingertip over it. He looked up at Andrew in a way that made his chest tighten. “It’s old; I found it in the water yesterday,” he explained, suddenly nervous. “It doesn’t open any doors, but it is a start.”
Abram peeked at the key again, but this time, when he looked at Andrew, he was smiling. Andrew didn’t expect someone like him to have such a bright smile—one that did something very weird with Andrew's stomach and tilted his world a bit.
“Thank you, Andrew,” Abram said softly, still running his fingertips over the present.
“It’s just a key, Abram,” Andrew shrugged.
The boy’s eyes softened upon hearing his name. Considering the fake name, it must have been a while since he had heard it from someone who wasn’t his mother. And considering the bruise, it must have been even longer since it wasn’t spoken in an angry tone. Not used to scold him, used simply because the other person knew it.
Andrew looked down, not knowing what to do with that stare and the abrupt feeling of the blood running to his cheeks.
What is happening with you, Andrew?
“It’s not,” Abram answered. “You know it’s not.”
When Andrew dared to look at him again, his cheeks were flushed too.
Oh, so that must be a normal reaction.
The moment broke when they heard a female voice scream Alex, and the happiness and softness on Abram’s face turned into fear. He looked so small and jumpy again. Andrew hated it.
“I have to go,” he said with something that sounded like regret. He put the key in one of his jeans’ pockets.
“Don’t lose it,” Andrew said. “I won’t be able to find another one.” The I won’t ever see you again went unspoken, but they both heard it.
“I won’t,” he promised. After a second, he smiled. “Next time, I’ll be the one able to spit on the top of your head, and I’ll show you that I still have it.”
“Is it a threat?” he asked. He could hear the dim hope in his voice.
“A promise.” They both knew it was a lie.
“Deal,” Andrew said
Abram looked around them—he truly looked like a rabbit—and, seeing that they were still alone, he stretched out his hand to seal the deal with a handshake. Andrew took it and looked at his eyes.
Oh.
Oh.
He’s been so focused on talking to Abram, he didn’t notice that the sun had risen way up. It was shining right at Abram’s eye level, making him squint them a bit. Andrew was sure this couldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t care right now. He had never seen eyes this blue. They looked like a clean sheet of ice on a sunny morning—sending the lighting back at him and blinding him in their beauty.
The way Andrew blushed and his heart fluttered at the feeling definitely wasn’t a normal reaction to shaking hands with, technically, a stranger—even one with such beautiful eyes, God, they were so blue—or just to shaking hands in general. The tremble of his hands surely wasn’t either.
Another problem is on the horizon—or more like it just crashed into the harbor. And the only help would be Google or, sweet Lord, Nicky.
The odds were looking very shitty for him.
The handshake probably didn't even last ten seconds, but when Abram pulled away, he left Andre’s hand feeling abruptly cold.
Andrew had just noticed Abram’s maroon checks, which made him feel better about his own, equally red ones.
It was probably all due to the morning cold.
“Pull your hood on, so nobody notices the hair,” Andrew said.
“Oh, right.” He did as he was told, looking sheepishly at Andrew.
Abram started to slowly walk backwards in the direction from which his mother’s voice came. He shyly waved his hand.
“Bye, Abram,” Andrew said.
Abram sent him a small smile. “Bye, Andrew.”
Then he finally turned around and started running. Andrew kept looking after him even when he disappeared between the cabins and trees. When he finally looked down, he realized he had been shaking his hand the whole time. And Abram definitely saw it.
“Oh my God, I’m gay,” he said to his hand, but it didn’t answer him.
When he got home, and Aunt Maria asked him where he had been for such a long time, he just shrugged and showed her that he obviously still couldn’t speak. Then he went to the room he shared with Aaron and Nicky, and after making sure they were out with Uncle Luther, he typed gay test in Google.
Later, when Aaron and Nicky asked him where his key was, he just shrugged and said it must have fallen out of his pocket. They spent 2 hours looking around the house in search of it—Nicky insisted—and Andrew kept his mouth shut about the true fate of the key. He’d keep Abram’s secret safe.
— ✩ —
“You never told me I was your gay awakening,” Neil said smugly.
Andrew just shrugged.
“Is it that key you have framed next to the front doors?” Iris asked.
“Yes,” Neil answered. “I told him I’d keep it safe.”
“This is so romantic.”
“And gay. I might throw up,” Ivy added.
“From cuteness, not homophobia,” Iris interjected.
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously.”
“They spend way too much time with Nicky,” Neil noted.
Andrew couldn’t agree more, but he also couldn’t wait to see Aaron’s reaction to this one.
“So what’s the moral of the story?” Iris asked.
“That Uncle Andrew has always been a di—”
Andrew covered his mouth with his palm, frowning at him. “Language,” he scolded. Neil put his hands up in surrender, and Andrew took the hand away.
“Always keep rusty keys on you, in case you meet a stray with issues?” Neil guessed.
“Be nice and nice things will happen to you,” Andrew answered, ignoring him.
They all looked at him, clearly not convinced.
“How long have you been nice to Daddy?” Iris asked.
That was not a good question. Andrew kept his mouth shut, hoping they would start talking about something else.
No such luck.
“We’re waiting,” Neil reminded.
Andrew sighed. “Five hours.”
The twins gaped at him, while Neil burst out laughing.
“He finally learnt the wonders of teasing your brother back that day,” Andrew explained. “He couldn’t be stopped after that! I had to fight back.”
“So the moral is be nice until you get something nice, then you can be rude again,” Ivy summarised.
Andrew stared at her with disbelief. “No—”
“I still can’t believe you were this rude to Dad, while he was nice to you,” Iris said, frowning at him.
“Who cares, they’re always acting like this anyway. Mommy says it’s their love language,” Ivy shrugged.
“Fuck this, I give up,” Andrew said quietly to Neil. He was trying to teach them something important, and now it backfired. Neil patted his shoulder in support.
“Let’s focus on what’s important,” Ivy said and looked at her uncles. “Are fairy tales true or not?”
Andrew looked at the gold ring on Neil’s finger and thought of the way he whispered yes before accepting it. “Yeah, some of them.”