Uncle Ronnie’s head pops up.

I give him a big smile. “Just kidding!”

He backs away from me slowly.

Uncle Michael flies down the stairs. At least I don’t feel so out of place now. He looks exactly like Jaime Lannister, except with black hair instead of blond. He’s even sporting the “gold” fake hand.

“You going to be able to bowl with that thing on?” Charlie asks.

Even though Charlie looks good with his hair slicked back and that white T-shirt on under his black jacket, I know him well enough to know he has costume envy. When we were little, he dressed up like a pirate for four years in a row just for the sword.

Uncle Michael slides the fake hand off and back on. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, then looks me up and down. “We’re Team Lane-ister! Did you not look at any of the pics I sent you?”

I smile. “I did but decided I was feeling a little less Cersei and a little more Arya.”

“Whatever.” Uncle Michael stands in the open doorway, scanning the street. Maybe this guy will be a no-show, I think optimistically.

A few minutes later, he throws his hands in the air and yells, “Finally!” to the guy walking up the front path.

“I had to circle the block three times trying to find a place to park!” the guy says. “Someone must be having a party or something.”

Oh, just wait until he sees who’s waiting inside to meet him.

He steps through the door and Uncle Michael says, “This is Jason Moore.”

Jason moves closer. His hand is outstretched and he’s smiling wide and he totally mistakes Sara for me.

Before she knows what hits her, Jason is shaking Sara’s hand. “Hey, it’s nice to meet you!”

He has stars in his eyes, and she looks equally charmed, if confused. I wish I could push them out the door and let them have this date.

“Um, you too, but I’m Sara. Sophie’s cousin.” She nods her head to the side. His eyes leave her and land on me. And yeah, the stars are gone.

“Oh.” Reluctantly, he lets go of Sara’s hand and reaches for mine. “Sophie. Nice to meet you.”

The family starts whispering. Charlie pulls the sheet out and starts adjusting bets. Uncle Michael looks panicked.

“So about how long does this thing last?” Uncle Sal asks.

Uncle Michael shakes his head. “Not telling.”

Uncle Ronnie leans in close to Uncle Sal and says, “Michael picked the ten-to-ten-fifteen spot.”

“Well, we’d better get going,” Uncle Michael says, and all but pulls us through the door.

Just before I leave the house, I turn to Sara and mouth, Want to ride with us?

For a split second I think she’s considering it, but she finally shakes her head. “I’ll see you there,” she whispers.

Maybe Nonna isn’t the only matchmaker in the family.

Jason, Michael, and I get in Jason’s car. I wasn’t expecting us to ride together, but at this point in the dating game nothing surprises me.

Jason and I chitchat on the way to the bowling alley, and I find out he’s a junior at the same school as Olivia, Wes, and Charlie. He has Media Arts with Charlie, and I hear story after story about the bizarre things Charlie does in the name of entertainment.

Wish I could say any of it surprises me, but it doesn’t.

I can tell when we’re at the right place because every person in the parking lot is in some kind of costume.

“We’re not the only Game of Thrones team, are we?” I ask Uncle Michael.

“Nope,” he says. “There’s House Bowl-ton.” He points to a group of guys walking toward the door wearing black jeans and T-shirts with the “flayed man” picture on the back. “And then there’s Lords of Pin-terfell.” He looks me up and down again then adds, “I guess you should be bowling with them, dressed like that. And there’s A Team Has No Name. But we were the first!”

I turn to Jason and ask, “Have you ever done this before?” I’ve yet to find out how Uncle Michael knows him.

“No. But my brother is on Michael’s team, so I’ve heard about it. The stories don’t do it justice.”

“Do y’all dress up every time you get together?” I ask Uncle Michael.

“Nope, just for the end-of-year bash.”

We get inside, and Jason and I have to rent shoes. We’re the only ones who need to. Everybody else not only owns their own shoes, but it looks like they also have their own bowling balls. And in most cases, their team’s theme has been worked into the design of the ball.

We sit side by side, pulling on the blue-and-red shoes, when a pack of half-dressed guys walk in. It’s almost like there’s an invisible fan in front of them, blowing their hair back perfectly.

“Olivia is going to be bummed she’s not on that team.”

Jason laughs. “I would think being oiled up like that would make bowling difficult.”

And oiled up they are. They’re practically glistening under the fluorescent lights.

While Michael and his teammates program everyone’s name into the overhead scoreboard, Jason and I people-watch. There’s a group in the lane next to us dressed up like priests and nuns named the Holy Rollers. We’ve also seen Team E-bowl-a, who are a bunch of doctors in their scrubs, some redneck-looking guys in Team Gutt-er-done, and the stoners of Team Smoke-A-Bowl.

But my personal favorite is Team Spare Wars.

“I’m kind of bummed they don’t dress up like this all the time,” I say to Jason.

“Okay, now that we’re all here, it’s time for a team picture,” Uncle Michael says. He gathers everyone together and puts Jason and me front and center. “Since we’re the Lane-isters, I want to see arrogance and smugness.” He glares at my outfit yet again. “Or we could all aim our swords at the traitor in the middle?”

“Ha. Ha,” I say.

After some discussion, Jason and I cross our arms across our chests and get back-to-back, then turn our faces toward the woman taking our photo. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt, white blouse, and black glasses, and her hair is in a bun.

“What team is she on?” I ask.

“Team Ballbarians,” Jason’s brother, Hank, answers. “Nothing hotter than a librarian who bowls.”

She takes several shots, then Uncle Michael uploads it to all of his social media accounts, tagging everyone in the group.

My phone lights up with notifications, and I swipe it open. The first thing I see in my feed is a picture of Griffin and a girl from the grade below us named Sabrina. They’re sitting in two folding chairs in front of a bonfire with their faces side by side.

There isn’t a caption, only a string of fire emojis.

It’s super lame.

And thankfully, I feel nothing when I see it.

The Pin Ladies and T-Balls finally arrive, and they’re assigned to the lane about four down from ours. Olivia is trying to get them together for a group pic.

I rush over and say, “Want me to take it?”

She hands me her phone and then gets between Charlie and Wes. Looking at my family and Wes on the screen, I’ve never wanted to be a Pink Lady more.

I take several, then hand Olivia back her phone.

“Wait,” Wes says. “Let’s get one of the four of us.”

“Yes!” Olivia squeals.

Olivia and I get in the middle, then Wes stands beside me. His arm is around me, and he pushes in close. I know my smile is ridiculous, but I can’t help it. It feels like we’re the Fab Four again.

“Oh, I should have been on that team,” Olivia says once we’re done with pictures. She’s finally spotted Team I Can’t Believe It’s Not Gutter. I laugh.

“Sophie,” Uncle Michael calls. “You’re up!”

After two rounds, it is obvious I am not a good bowler. In fact, after two rounds, my score is still zero.

Zero.

Jason isn’t much better, but at least he’s in double digits.

“How many games do we play?” I ask.

“Two,” everyone on my team answers at the same time. They’re trying to be nice to me even though my score is dragging our team down, but I see one guy bury his head in his hands.

Is it bad I’m watching the game four lanes down more than my own? Probably. But I’m not the only one who can’t stop looking at the Pink Ladies and T-Balls. Jason has glanced over at Sara a dozen times.

When it’s my turn again, I can almost hear every member of my team groan as I line up at those dots in the floor.

“You need to take your first step with the same hand you hold the bowling ball with,” Wes says beside me. He’s got an imaginary ball in his hand and he steps forward on his right foot at the same time he swings his right hand forward. “It’s got to be done in the same motion.”

“Are you helping the other team?” Charlie yells. We both ignore him.

Wes nods to me. “Try it, but don’t let go of the ball, yet.”

I hold my ball in front of me and try to re-create what he just showed me, but my timing is all wrong. I back up and try it again, but the result is the same. And then he steps in behind me, putting his left hand on my hip and his right hand on my elbow.

“Okay, let’s try it one more time,” he says in my ear.

I nod because words have completely failed me at this point. He tugs on my elbow just as I step forward with my right foot and he follows me through the swing.

“Now go for it,” he says.

I take a deep breath and get back on the starting line. And then I’m off. The ball bounces twice on the lane before it starts a very slow roll toward the pins. I spin around and look at Wes.

“I can’t stand it. Just tell me how it ends.”

He laughs while he watches the slow progress of the ball behind me. My teammates are still smiling, so it must not be in the gutter yet.