She can’t be serious.
This time, I don’t even have to pretend to be bored. "What are you talking about?"
"During lunchandpractice!" With both fists on her hips, all that’s missing is her stomping a foot to complete the temper tantrum.
The urge to turn and walk out is overpowering, but after a calming inhale and exhale, I simply say, "I’ve had extra practice, and you know that. What do you want from me? Walk you to the other end of the gym in the middle of everything so that we’re seen together?" I almost expect her to say yes, but instead, she switches gears altogether.
"Don’t forget Emma’s party on Friday. I expect you to be there."
It’s not like I have anywhere else to be—like home.
"I will."
My answer pacifies her, and she presses a quick kiss on my cheek. "That’s my boyfriend."
I sigh inwardly. Yes, it is.
Chapter Two
Thanksgiving break is finally here.
Emma is throwing a party at her new stepdad’s house tonight, and Denielle has been spamming me with texts since we separated at the parking lot earlier.
U HAAAVE to come. Jake will be there. I told u about him. He REEEAAALLY wants to meet u.
What’s with the elongated spelling?
I can’t remember the last party where Den didn’t want to hook me up with a guy, but this is exaggerated even for her. I love her for trying, and every once in a while, I indulge her, but all the guys are just missing something. It gets old quick.
I respond with the only thing that will make her stop.
It’s a cheer party. I have no desire to run into them, and u know she’ll be there, which means he will be too.
A few minutes later, my phone lights up again.
Sigh!
Bingo! Internal fist pump. I grin until I see her next text, and my feeling of satisfaction fades.
Babe, you need to get over this shit. It’s been over 2 yrs. Ur brother is a dick and I have ur back, but u can’t avoid every party where the Wicked Bitch will be because u don’t want to run into him.
Now, it’s my turn to sigh.
Ugh. Ur right. But not tonight, k? I just don’t want a repeat of the end of summer party.
That was months ago, but ok. Call me if you change your mind. Love you, babe.
K. Love you 2.
Feeling somewhat resigned,I put my phone down next to my laptop. I’m sitting at my desk, which is positioned between the two windows facing the backyard, and I peer over at the small, framed photo of Rhys and me.
My brother is a year older—actually, ten and a half months, to be precise, which has been cause for quite some fertility jokes about our mom over the years.
Slightly taller, he has his arm draped around my shoulder, grinning at the camera while I beam up at him. It was taken at Woodland Park right after we moved to Westbridge the first time, ten years ago. Rhys and I used to be so close; we did everything together. And then it all changed a little over two years ago—hechanged.
After a year of attending different schools—Rhys at Westbridge High and me still in middle school—we were going to finally be in the same place again. He was so busy his freshman year that I saw him less and less. In my mind, we would carpool, and Rhys, Wes, and I would get to hang out again. I had it all planned out in my mind and couldn’t wait for school to start. They were both gone for camp over the summer, and despite spending most of my time with Denielle, I missed them a lot. Wes had been Rhys’s best friend for eight years, but he was one of my closest friends as well. Though, when they got back, Rhys had changed even more. He was completely withdrawn. Wes tried to assure me that it had nothing to do with me; Rhys was just busy. But I knew better. By the time school had officially started, my brother was full-on ignoring me. I tried several more times, but he just became more irritated. When I entered a room, he would turn and leave. I had lost my best friend over something I didn’t understand. Then, he started dating Katherine Rosenfield, the head cheerleader, and I gave up trying to fix the unknown. The quarterback and the cheerleader—the perfect couple. Gag.
Shaking my head, I turn away from the picture. I’ve put it away several times, but something always compels me to place the frame back on my desk.