Mom fluffs a pillow on the couch, brings me a new glass of ice water, and places the untouched mango in my lap. I put something on TV but give up after feeling the strain in my eyes. Instead, I scroll through my phone, which is still shattered. I can’t ignore the tingling in my fingers as I swipe through Instagram, dreading everyone’s photos from yesterday. I’d rather forget all about last night, so I give up on looking at this, as well.
I grab an ice cube from my glass of water and press it against my eye, hoping to dull the pain.
As much as I hate sitting here doingabsolutelynothing, my dad hates watching me sink farther into the couch.
“Come on; what’s that going to do?” he asks, clapping his hands like a football coach trying to rally the team out of the huddle. “Get some fresh air. You’ll only feel worse sitting around.”
“I don’t know.” I’d love to get up and move, really. But that doesn’t seem in the realm of possibility right now.
My dad pulls out his phone and sends a text. To me—and all thirty-seven members of our extended family group chat.
DAD:
Darius. Come over and practice with Jackson.
Dad has the chat on mute, so his phone doesn’t blow up with responses the way mine does.
ANTHONY:
Dannnng, what about me? Ahh I see, he’s got time to dribble but no time to drive.
UNCLE CONNOR:
Cousins helping cousins
AUNT DONNA:
Jackson, I heard you were finally going to get your license. So proud of you!
MOM:
He is!!
ROSA:
Any cousins going to help me and Dan finish painting the baby’s room?
AUNT MARY MARIE:
How wonderful!!! Praying all goes well!!!
DARIUS:
Yes sir, on the way.
Dad claps again, waiting for me to stand. “Come on, go get dressed. I told your cousin to come over. I’ll get the net out in the backyard.”
“Iknow,” I say, holding up my phone, which is still buzzing as more family members chime in.
“When did you break that?” Dad takes my phone and frowns at the screen. “Didn’t we just upgrade?”
Mom steps in for the save. “You were going to run to the store soon anyway, so you can take it for him next week. And, Jackson, I threw some of your clothes in the dryer, and they should be ready.”
Taking a deep breath, I hoist myself from the couch, ignoring that now familiar tingle, an uncomfortable combination of itch and tickle across my feet, and slowly march to the laundry room. At least I don’t have to go back upstairs. I search for my things in the dryer and somehow manage to drop both my shirt and joggers to the ground on the way to the first-floor bathroom, where I get changed.
Darius must have hopped in the car as soon as he got the text, because he pulls up to our house a few minutes later, right as Dad comes inside the back door, with the soccer net now in place out on the lawn behind him.
“You really didn’t need to come over,” I say, leaning on the door for support as I open it for my cousin.
