“First off,” said Lucas, “it’s not really a strategy game. But second, Parcheesi is only for four players, and there are five of us.”

Karl picked up one of the red Parcheesi pieces. “It was just a thought.”

“This is why we don’t invite interlopers,” said Lucas, settling back on the broad sofa, a beer bottle in one hand. “They don’t understand games the way we do.”

“I didn’t say I was going to invite Burns,” Karl said. “I just said he mentioned the game, and I wondered why we never play it.”

Simon was across the room, digging in the mini-fridge for a beer of his own. “Is that why you guys won’t let me invite Evan? Because he’ll suggest the wrong game?”

Pete was kneeling in front of the game cabinet, looking at the boxes. “No, you can’t invite Evan because he’s a Cray, and if a Cray ever steps foot into Lucas’ house, the blood-feud that has been fought across a thousand galaxies and infinite generations, will return to life.”

“I don’t mind Parcheesi,” said Rex. “It’s nice and old-fashioned.”

Karl rolled the red piece in his fingers, feeling the solidity of the wood. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was someplace safe, like he could relax. Burns might be his best friend singular, but the guys were his best friends plural, and it was different around them. He’d known them forever.

Aside from Simon, who of course he’d known since birth, there was Lucas Phelps, scion of the second-richest family in town. This was his house, a gargantuan place with a pine forest for a backyard. Sworn enemies of the Crays, the Phelps had been feuding with them over land for as long as the county had been around, and as much as times had changed, Lucas was always wishing for the glory days of their battles.

Rex, meanwhile, was the quiet one. He always seemed a little sad, but maybe that’s because they all knew his past. He lived in a tiny little house on Lucas’ land, a favor to him after he’d gone through rehab.

Pete was normally their comic relief, although tonight it seemed like his head was somewhere else; he was spending an awful lot of time looking over the various games.

Sometimes it felt a little weird, like Karl was living in two worlds. No way would Burns fit in with these guys. Yet Karl felt equally at home with them, and with Burns. Well, he’d used to feel that way with Burns, but Burns had been really tense over the Delia situation; Karl hadn’t realized how tense until last night’s drunken escapade.

“He didn’t actually throw up, did he?” asked Simon.

“I didn’t watch him,” said Karl. “The sounds from the bathroom were bad enough. We told his mom it was from eating bad chicken wings.”

Rex said, “I remember those days, drinking to the point my body just couldn’t handle it. What’s got him bothered so much he’s doing that to himself?”

Karl shrugged. “His parents want to hook him up with this girl Delia. Honestly she seems kind of perfect. I don’t know why he’s so stressed about it.”

“Nah,” said Rex. He had a bottle of spring water in his hand, and looked down at it. “The only reason a guy like that poisons himself to that extent, is if something big is on his mind. Existential crisis big.”

Pete pulled out a box. “What about Ottoman-Venetian War? I get to play Vladislaus II of Hungary.”

“God no,” said Simon. “Nothing where I have to learn history.”

Lucas turned to Rex. “Existential crisis? This Burns guy is a frat boy. They just get drunk. It’s in their genes.”

“He’s a frat boy?” said Rex. “I thought he was one of those bland white-bread church boys.”

“I don’t see how he could be having a crisis,” said Karl. He had two Parcheesi pieces now, a red and a green. “He’s got a perfect life right now. All his needs taken care of, everybody loves him, everybody’s trying to fix him up.”

Simon laughed. “Are you jealous? Do you need us to fix you up with someone?”

“Where would we find someone for Karl?” asked Pete. “I don’t know a lot of economic historians who enjoy arguing all day.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t find me anybody,” said Karl. “I’m perfectly content on my own.”

“That must be why you’ve turned the apartment into a pigsty,” said Simon.

“Are you still on that?” asked Karl. “Dude, you can complain about me being unemployed, or you can complain about me not being Perfect Mr. Housekeeper, but you can’t do both.”

“Didn’t we have some rule where Simon and Karl weren’t allowed to fight on game night?” asked Rex. “I think we’re supposed to be allowed to punch them in the head if they bring their sibling rivalry here.”

“It’s like when Hungary and Pope Alexander came together to defend Venice’s territories from the Ottomans,” said Pete.

“We are not playing that game,” intoned Lucas.

“I mean, I’m not worried about you being unemployed,” said Simon. “I think you’re going to do really well working for Cray Reliable’s foundation. Sorry, Lucas, I know how you feel about me mentioning them.”

“No, no, that’s fine, you all go work for evil, whatever you want,” said Lucas.

“Karl, they asked if you’d come by tomorrow to talk,” said Simon.

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Did you have big plans?”

“Actually, yeah. Burns and I are going camping.”

“Can’t you put it off?” asked Simon. “You need a job, man.”

“I know. But this is part of his big crisis. He wants to get away from his family for a while.”

“Weekend camping trip with a hot frat boy?” asked Pete. “I think I’ve seen that porn.”

“Oh god, shut up!” said Karl.

“I think it was called Pitching a Tent.”

Karl rolled his eyes and dropped the Parcheesi pieces back into the box. “You guys are gross.”

“Yeah, quit it,” said Simon. “I really don’t want to think about my brother getting it on out in the woods.”

“I’m not going for that!” said Karl.

“Just two sweaty men,” continued Pete, “chopping wood, starting a little fire. Then they’re like oh no we only brought one sleeping bag, whatever shall we do?”

“Even if I wanted a relationship right now—which I do not—Burns is my best friend.”

“Hey!” said all the guys at once.

“My other best friend. It would be like sleeping with one of you.”

“Gross!” said Pete.

“Nasty!” said Rex.

“Jesus, Karl, you didn’t have to go that far to make a point,” said Lucas. “Now you’re going to give Pete ideas.”

“I’m just hoping this trip will hit the reset button on his brain,” said Karl. “He’s been so freaked out over this girl. I don’t get it.”

“Never try to understand a straight guy,” said Lucas. “They’re inexplicable.”

“Yeah, be careful,” said Simon. “You’ve told me a thousand times how Burns’ family is. There could be some trauma there. I mean, who knows, maybe their preacher is some mind-controlling tyrant, and Burns is scared the daughter is the same way.”

Karl shook his head. “I don’t think Delia is that bad. Actually, I like her a lot, and thought maybe we could hang out some time.”

“Don’t invite her here,” said Pete. “It would throw off the delicate balance of our masculinity.”

“My point is, there’s more going on than meets the eye,” said Simon. “Does he even know you’re gay?”

Karl’s brow furrowed. “I mean…maybe? You know how I feel about labels. Orientation is a social construct, and heterosexuality as a concept didn’t even exist until—”

“So he doesn’t know?”

“It never came up,” said Karl.

Pete threw back his head, laughing. “Oh god, it’s like a summer comedy. They both think the other is straight, but after seeing each other skinny-dip, the sparks really start to fly!”

Simon picked up one of the yellow Parcheesi pieces and threw it at Pete. “My point is, straight people can get weird about us, especially if they were brought up to be super-religious, and you need to be careful. That is, don’t pick this weekend to come out to him.”

“Like you’re the expert on straight people,” said Karl.

“I’m older than you.”

“By two years!”

“Jesus,” said Simon, looking around the room. “You guys know what I mean, don’t you? I’m not being stupid in warning him about this?”

Pete picked the yellow piece out of the carpet and put it back on the box. “As much as it pains me to be serious—on game night, no less!—your brother has a point, Karl. If Burns is emotionally unstable, and straight, and going through a crisis, then you basically just need to lie low. Be a good listener, don’t talk about your personal life too much.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting advice from you guys,” said Karl. “Burns isn’t dangerous, he’s just freaked out. He’s not even religious anymore, that’s all in his past. It’s going to be fine.”

He picked the cup out of the Parcheesi box, and dropped the two dice in. Shaking them up, hearing them clockity-clock inside the cup, then letting them rattle onto the table.

“Double sixes!” he said. “If we were playing, I’d be winning right now.”