The car ride home with Ansel was eerily quiet and very uncomfortable. For all of the years I have known Ansel, I cannot recall a single time when words did not come pouring out. His hands were death gripped onto the steering wheel and his lips were in a tight straight line.

To the shock of many Warriors fans, Val Dez lost to Holt for the first time in over a decade. The score ended in a tie fourth quarter which lead to overtime and an increasing tension between Spencer and Ansel. I had to excuse myself to the restroom just to get away from them.

"I cannot believe I lost a bet on an American sport to an Australian," Ansel seethes into the open refrigerator. He rummages through the chill drawer where we keep our vegetables.

     Taking an unwashed carrot out of the drawer, Ansel sticks the carrot in his mouth and proceeds to close up shop in the fridge. He slowly turns around to face me all while chewing the carrot from the right side of his mouth.

     "You should know better than to make a bet with a Carpenter," a lesson I had learned from watching Ocean Carpenter make a bet that he could shoot the most baskets from the right side of the court.

     Ansel continues to chew on the carrot as he carefully thinks over my words. His eyes turn accusatory and he removes the carrot from his mouth.

    "You know something, Hilton," he is so not letting this loss go. "Spill."

    I admit that I am guilty on the pretense that I knew this game was not going to end in Ansel's favor. While our head coach likes to pay big bucks for the game to end in our favor, it would look a bit suspicious for Val Dez to beat Holt every year. Especially when it is obvious our players are not nearly as good as Holt's players.

    Henry Valdez was noticeably missing from tonight's game; Bridget had left with Bria and Ocean right before overtime without causing a scene. Those two events were huge red flags that Ansel had missed.

    As the main character of impeccable timing, Kaylee waltzes right into the kitchen. She walks right past Ansel, as if he is some camouflaged giant, and heads straight for the cabinet we keep the coffee mugs in.

    She opens the cabinet and peeks around without physically moving any of the mugs. "Francesca, have you seen my favorite mug? The one your father had given to me for Christmas last year."

    Our neighborhood has an annual garage sale the first weekend of September; Kaylee has a habit of getting rid of 'junk' each year. Last month just so happened to be September and her 'favorite mug' was not saved from her purge.

    There is not a doubt in my mind that Kaylee knows where the mug my dad bought her last year went. However, this is the natural order of our daily game. Kaylee comes looking for a 'missing' item and questions if I have seen the item in question; we have a brief back and forth; she accuses me of taking the item; and she remembers what she did with the missing item.

I do not get an apology from Kaylee, but I know I am guaranteed another accusation and argument.

"Are you sure the mug is still in the house?" I innocently inquire.

Ansel stands up against the fridge nibbling as slow as he can on the carrot. His eyes are glued on Kaylee's back as he awaits her next move.

"Where else would the mug be?" Kaylee turns her head to look back at me. Her light brown eyes are starting to shine bright with anger. "Are you insinuating that I got rid of an item that means the world to me?"

I should just stop while I'm ahead, but I cannot resist the temptation of riling Kaylee up.

"Remind me again what this mug looks like," I take a step towards her and crane my neck up towards the second shelf. "Maybe I can find it."

Kaylee narrows her eyes suspiciously at my change of tune. "The mug was a light pink with the word 'entrepreneur' in white cursive letters."

Yeah, my dad is not the best gift giver in the world. To his credit, though, he did manage to make Kaylee less of a grouch for a week. She was more giddy about being called an entrepreneur than she was about receiving a mug for Christmas.

"Hmm," I step past her and physically move two mugs on the second shelf aside. I make sure to mentally count to ten before turning to face her with furrowed eyebrows. "You know, Kaylee, I think I saw Mrs. Cunningham with a similar mug last Thursday. You might want to ask her where she got her entrepreneur mug from."

Kaylee is not buying my words. At all. It is true that our neighbor, Mrs. Cunningham, two doors down had bought the mug last month.What might be a bit of a lie is the mug's current ownership.

    "Lying is a sin, Francesca," her condescending undertone does not go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Kaylee carries on about her business without making another accusation.

    She makes her a cup of tea and proceeds to make her back out of the kitchen. Her exit is not without finally acknowledging Ansel's presence, though.

    "You know the rule about having boys over, Francesca," Kaylee stops in her tracks to give me her unwanted attention. "Ansel needs to go home. I do not want any naughty temptations to occur. Bria even respects this rule."

    With her words of wisdom hanging in the air,  Kaylee finally lets the two of us be. Ansel has stayed over before and we even shared a bed. Dad was fully aware of this and did not care one bit. He knows that any funny business between me and Ansel is committed during school hours.

    "I can still keep the mug, right?" Ansel asks as soon as we hear the door close to my dad and Kaylee's bedroom.

    Taking my eyes off the stairs, I glance over to Ansel. "You paid Mrs. Cunningham for it and Kaylee was the one who had put the mug up for sale. The bet you made with Spencer is null, by the way."

    What? There was no contract legally binding the two boys to follow through with their bet. Even if there was, my dad is a lawyer and would happily point out that making bets is illegal.

     * * * * * * *

    Shortly after learning more about how Spencer managed to outsmart him, Ansel was all the more adamant he had to stay the night. His claim was that he needed to brainstorm ideas to get back at Spencer and I was the key to his plan.

Dad had walked into the living room as Ansel was making his proclamation and said that Ansel was the exception to the 'no boys' rule. The other half of Ansel's proclamation had fallen on deaf ears, as Dad was on his way back to his home office.

    "How about I trick Spencer into making another bet with me? A bet he has absolutely no chance of winning," I watch Ansel pace back and forth while I lay upside down on my bed. "I could make a bet with him that you will fall for his brother before the end of the month."

I think the blood is starting to pool in my head because I know Ansel did not just suggest the dumbest idea on Earth. No one would believe that I would get involved with someone like Ocean; Bridget and Reggie would both be doubled over laughing together. Just the image of them sharing a good laugh is unsettling.

"Have you learned nothing?" I rhetorically ask with knitted eyebrows. "No one would buy that I fell for Bridget's boyfriend, no matter how you try to spin the story. Spencer would happily take the bet knowing that he is guaranteed a win."

Ansel stops his pacing and shoots me with his version of an intimidating glare. "How dare you downplay my degree in cliché romance tropes. Do you know how long it took me to memorize every single John Hughes film and dissect the intricate details of high school romance?"

The answer to his question is fifty-six times. Ansel made me watch The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off on repeat. The first time we watched Pretty in Pink, Ansel got teary eyed by Duckie standing up for Andie and then angry that Duckie let Andie go after Blane.

Out of all the John Hughes movies, I liked The Breakfast Club the most. That was the only John Hughes film Ansel had sat through without pausing to complain about how predictable the outcome was. The Breakfast Club was also the only movie Reggie agreed to come over and watch as a group. Unsurprisingly, Reggie's favorite character was John Bender.

"We aren't in a John Hughes film, Ans. The tropes in the top three romance films are poor shy girl who somehow crosses paths with popular rich boy. In case you haven't noticed," I pause to dramatically gesture widely at my upside down room. "I am not the poor shy girl. Even The Breakfast Club had the poor shy girl get together with the popular rich boy at the end."

"Andrew was the popular athlete and Allison was just there for fun," Ansel corrects me. "Claire was the rich popular girl who gets together with John the delinquent at the end of the movie."

Holding up five fingers, I put a finger down for each character he listed off. "Who did that other kid end up with? Wasn't he a nerd or a geek or something?"

Ansel waves a dismissive hand at my question and continues to brainstorm other ways he can get Spencer back. He goes from making one last football bet at next week's last game of the season to making a bet that Reggie will actually graduate next spring with the rest of us.

Listening to him come up with the "best" bet idea is hurting my head than what hanging upside down is. Spencer wins the bet in each scenario. The odds of Reginaldo Day walking that stage in May with the rest of us is slim; the odds of Spencer picking the opposing team will depend on what he observes at next week's game.

As much as I find Ansel's initial idea laughable, I know it is one that I can sort of control. If I show faux interest in Ocean that does not reek of deception, I could easily get Ansel the win. I would just need Ocean to go along with the charade- a task that might be the most challenging.

    The other positive to Ansel's initial idea would be getting under Bridget's skin. I already get under her skin with my presence but being seen hanging around with her boyfriend would really set her off.

    Sitting up straight and turning my body to face Ansel, I ask the last question I thought would come out of my mouth. "What is the game plan to break Ocean and Bridget up?"

   A devilish grin creeps onto Ansel's face, almost like he knew I was going to choose the first idea that popped into his mind. His outward naivety is just a ploy to throw people off from who Ansel is internally. A clever mastermind.