Carson

I refuse to high-five Eli’s antics. I worry Montana will believe all of us act like him.

When he plops in the booth next to me, he adjusts himself. “It was an eight on the BJ scale,” he loudly announces.

Peyton giggles beneath her hand, her eyes on Montana. Mine are, too, as I attempt to read her reaction. Her eyes stare at the beer in front of her.

It’s hopeless. No amount of apologizing for the band’s actions will erase their crazy ...