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I check the code on the screen against the one on my schedule. They match. I quickly log into the course calendar, positive there must be some kind of mistake, even though it’s clear there is not. I assumed that anything starting with an E would be an English course, but I see now that I botched the registration, and I’m sitting in Intro to Macroeconomics—which is basically another form of math, and my least-favorite subject in the entire history of the universe.
Both of my parents are good at math. My mom is a math wizard. She was actually a mathlete in high school and won all sorts of championships. My dad built her a math-trophy shrine in our basement. She can do triple-digit multiplication in her head. And my dad may not be a super math genius or anything, but he’s good with numbers and has a freaking degree in English and another one in kinesiology.
My oldest brother, Robbie, is studying to become a botanist, and he’s currently on a fellowship in Amsterdam. He’s planning to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps and work in medical marijuana research and development.
Maverick is probably the most like my dad. He’s studying kinesiology, but he’s already been drafted. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll ever play in the NHL according to my dad. Some drafted players never make it.
River is ridiculously smart and tries at nothing. Unlike my dad and Maverick, he has zero interest in playing hockey. Well, that’s not exactly true. I think he likes hockey, but he decided he wanted to play football instead, maybe so he wouldn’t have to compete with Mav.
And then there’s me. I’m decent at school, but I always had to work harder than everyone else to get the same kind of grades. My anxiety doesn’t help the situation. And I suck at pretty much everything with numbers that isn’t measuring fabric, so the fact that I’m sitting here is a big old punch to the tit.
I grumble profanity under my breath.
“Excuse me?” the guy in the desk closest to me asks.
I give him what is probably a horrible grimace and motion to the empty seat between us. “Sorry. Just talking to my imaginary friend.”
“Right, okay.” He shifts in his desk and angles his body away from me.
Awesome, Lavender. Of course you had to say something weird. I drag my palm down my face. Why couldn’t those words stay in my head like most of them do?
I spend the next three hours trying to manage my mounting panic. I’m too embarrassed to get up and leave. What’s even worse is that we round out the end of the first class with a freaking assessment quiz. I avoided all the business courses in high school because they all included some form of math. When I took the required math courses, I was always in River’s class. My parents made sure of it. I probably should have taken the easier math, but with River there, I could copy most of his work, barely pass the exams, and still manage not to totally obliterate my average. But now I’m on my own.
After class, I arrive home to find Maverick, River, and BJ hanging out in the living room, playing video games.
“Where’ve you been?” BJ asks.
I drop my backpack on the floor and head for the kitchen. “It’s this thing called class. Maybe you should try it.”
“What’s up your ass? Other than Kody’s tongue?” BJ shouts after me.
I grab an orange and stalk back into the living room. “That’s disgusting!” I lob the orange at him. Unfortunately, unlike my brothers, I have shit aim and miss him completely. Mav nabs the orange out of the air before it hits a lamp three feet away from BJ’s head.
River pauses the game, his expression stormy, which is not unusual. “What the fuck?”
I want to give BJ shit, but it’ll just give River more of a reason to be angry. “BJ’s just being his usual gross self.”
River looks from me to BJ and back again with a shake of his head. “Don’t buy it. What happened?”
BJ shrugs, playing it off like it’s nothing. “Other than Kody getting his rocks off on some dirty bunny yesterday, not much.”
“Wait, what? When did that happen? I thought he was driving you back here to get glasses.” Maverick seems confused.
“He did. I guess he fit it in—quite literally—between dropping me off and whenever his next class was.” I try to come off as blasé, but this whole conversation makes me feel exposed.
“Hold the fuck on.” River’s eyes flare, and he sits up straighter. “Why were you in a car with Kody, and why am I just finding out about this now?”
“Uh, because I didn’t see you yesterday.” And even if I had, there’s no way I would have told my twin any of this—see his current reaction for details. “I broke my glasses and needed to come home to get my spares. He drove the car. I sat in the passenger seat.”
