Chapter 3:
Uriah, who has been hopping and screaming and giggling, takes the lead - if he were in back he would bump us or trip us or something. After what seems like hours of Uriah's imprudence, Zeke smacks him in the back of his head; I still don't know where we're going. It's like all this foolishness is to distract me, to lure me in so they could do whatever they're going to do while "take me out".
"Grow up, will you!" Zeke yells.
"Never! Do you know how long it took me to get 6 years old? A long time. 16 years to be exact! Don't ruin this for me!" Uriah squeals.
"You're an idiot."
"I prefer well – rounded or easy going or a happy – go – lucky, laid-back,
whale – of –a – good time kind of fellow, you know?" Uriah says, sneering.
"I don't care."
"Zeke just leave him be. Uriah cal –" I say, interrupted by Uriah's flaunting.
"Ya, Zeke, don't annoy Tris on her birthday. My apologies Trissy dear, my brother is of the utmost wicked people," Uriah says in a silly British accent. Uriah sniffs around and then gasps.
"Cake!" He shrieks.