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“We’ll see. But you can’t go with anyone in a higher grade than you, and I’m driving you.”
“Mom.” She glares at me. “It’s the whole middle school. I might get asked by someone who’s not in sixth grade.”
No. My twelve-year-old is not going on a “date” with a fourteen-year-old boy.
“Okay, well, you’re welcome to take someone from a lower grade but not a higher grade.”
She vocally gasps. “Mom! I can’t take a third grader to my school dance.”
“I suggest you find a sixth grader, then, or go with your friends.”
“You’re so mean.”
I glance at Cam and she covertly gives me a thumbs-up, letting me know I’m right. I knew the day would come when I had to deal with her liking boys. It’s about as much fun as I expected. Cam and I grew up with parents who trusted us to make our own decisions, and I got pregnant at fifteen years old. That’s only three years older than Hannah, who still occasionally likes to play with Barbies. I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her from making the same choices I did about boys and sex.
“Where’s Dom?” Tate asks, watching the hockey game Cam brought up on the TV using YouTube.
Cam squints at the screen. “He’s not out on the ice right now, but that’s his team.”
Hannah finishes her food and stomps upstairs, and Dom comes up shortly after, sitting down next to me on the couch with a sigh.
“How’d it go?” I whisper.
“I don’t know. I told him I’m a huge idiot and I’m really sorry.”
“Did you tell him it’s a bad idea to hit on teachers?”
One corner of his mouth quirks up in a grin. “I did mention that, yeah.”
“How did he seem? Is he mad?”
Dom shrugs. “He’s pissed at me for the shitty advice, which I get. And embarrassed about the whole thing.”
“There you are!” Tate yells, pointing at the TV screen. “That’s you, Dom!”
“Hey, it is me. What game is this?”
“Just a random one I found online,” Cam says. “The boys wanted to watch hockey since they’re going to a game.”
“How was the food?” Dom asks.
“Delicious,” I say. “Everyone loved it.”
“Why did they stop the game?” Sam asks Dom.
Dom checks the screen. “Time-out.”
“What are you guys talking about?”
“Our coaches are telling us what plays to run. How to score, that kind of stuff.”
“Do you score lots of goals?”
Dom smiles. “I try to.”
Tate comes over to the couch, where I’m sitting in the middle and Dom is sitting on one end. Instead of sitting on my other side, he says, “Aunt Tess, can you scoot down?”
As soon as I’m out of the way, Tate jumps onto the couch between me and Dom.
