“Because he got slapped across the face by Indiana Bones,” I mumble around two pieces of licorice. “Who’s Indiana B—” Cara’s question dies, words hanging in the air, before she explodes with a howl so loud the boys look up from the ice. “For the love of God, tell me you slapped Garrett in the face with a dildo named Indiana Bones, please, Jennie.” “I didn’t slap him in the face with it. We fought over the box it was in, the box broke, and Indiana Bones soared through the air and kinda … you know.”
