“Huh?” Harrison tore his eyes away from Jett so he could process his thoughts again. “Translate what?”
“How did I botch it?”Arlo grumbled loud enough that Jett could hear it when he sat beside Harrison.“I hate French. Ironically, I ended up in Montreal and I can barely speak any of it.”
Jett motioned for Harrison to put the conversation on speakerphone, and he complied.
“Hi Arlo,” said Jett in his cherry tone. “What did you need help with?”
“Jett! Thank God you’re here. Harrison is useless.”
He and Jett exchanged glances; Harrison’s expression was one of exasperation, and Jett’s expression was one of amusement.
“Like I was telling Harrison, during the game some asshole on the Florida team said something to me, and I’m pretty sure I know what he said, but I want to hear the official translation.”
“Lay it on me then,” said Jett. “I’m fluent in French.”
Arlo repeated the words, and since Harrison was listening this time, he understood.
“Uh…” Jett looked to Harrison for help, but Harrison was staying out of this one. “That loosely translates toyou have a pretty ass, but your face is dumb.”
“Tabarnak, are you for real?!”Arlo sputtered with anger.“I thought he called me a dumbass. I would have accepted that, but saying I have a nice ass and a dumb face is crossing a fucking line.”
“Who said it to you?” Harrison asked. “What number was he wearing?”
“Five. It’s a good number for him because he certainly acts like a toddler.”
“Oh, Loic Beauregarde,” said Jett. “It’s funny that he was giving you grief. He’s normally a pretty chill guy, unless you really piss him off and then he chirps like a motherfucker.”
Harrison knew of Beauregarde, the defenceman for the Florida Barracudas. He was the only player he liked on that team, if only because Beauregarde refused to speak English for any interviews, and always fucked around with his answers. They would ask him a stupid question likeWhat do you want to do better next game?And Beauregarde would say something sarcastic like,All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.
Even though he was on an American team, the people of Quebec loved him. They got a kick out of how much of an asshole he was.
Harrison wasn’t surprised he had rubbed Arlo the wrong way, but a stiff breeze could accomplish the same thing if his cousin was in a bad mood, so it’s not like the man had to try hard.
“Teach me some French words that I can use against him the next game we play,”said Arlo.“Étienne refused to help me when I asked him because he’s a prude.”
Harrison doubted that. Arlo seemed to know one solid French curse already. Étienne was probably trying to protect his rookie from getting his ass kicked.
“I’ll text you a few,” said Jett like the traitor he was. “Are you still at the arena? Why does it sound all echoey?”
“I’m sulking in the bathroom, yeah,”said Arlo.“Étienne is pacing outside, so I really should go, but you better text me those words, Fraser.”
“Bossy little shit.” Jett scowled at the phone like Arlo could see his face. “I’ll send you stuff soon. Try not to get into any more fights.”
“Sure, dude. I’ll be good.”
Harrison didn’t believe him.
“Let’s hang out soon,”said Arlo.“And Harrison—thanks.”
Arlo hung up without saying goodbye before Jett could ask any questions. The second the call ended, Jett turned on him.
“Thanks for what?”
He didn’t know if he could say it without getting choked up. His family was such a touchy subject for him and Arlo, and he sometimes didn’t know how to explain things without digging up more trauma. Harrison wished he had a father like Jett’s dad sometimes. It had to be so much easier.
“Arlo’s parents are…fishing for fame and money,” Harrison said, feeling tired. “Arlo was upset before the game started, hence why he got into a fight. He wants to separate from them, so he asked if he could have my last name since I practically adopted him.”
He was expecting Jett to be happy, but he wasn’t expecting his eyes to fill with tears, turning their colour into liquid gold.
