“Sweetie, is everything okay?”Mom asks from across the dining room table.
I’ve only managed to eat a few bites of dinner and have been pushing the rest around the plate for the last five minutes. I set my fork down, shove the plate away, and sit back in my chair. Dad pauses with a bite halfway to his mouth.
“D? What’s wrong?”
I suppose I can’t pretend there’s nothing wrong. We’re having tacos, beans, and cilantro lime rice for dinner—basically the best meal on the planet—and I just shoved it aside like yesterday’s trash. That’s kind of a dead giveaway that something's bothering me. Beneath the table, I drum my fingers on my thighs.
“It’s nothing major, I mean, I’m fine.” Mom and Dad always worry because when things start to eat away at me I start losing sleep, my concentration goes to shit, and the panic attacks flare up again. It sucks, so I try not to let it get to that point. But they’re always concerned.
“Why don’t you tell us about it,” Dad suggests.
Talking about things helps, but talking about it also makes me think about it, and then I feel bad all over again. It’s a vicious cycle.
“You remember my roommate from soccer camp?”
Dad nods and takes a sip of water. “That Brian kid?”
“Ryne. Turns out he’s Ryden Sutton’s son, by the way, from the Denly United pro soccer team? Anyway, small world, we go to school together now.”
I grab my glass and take a big gulp of milk, then lick my lips. When I set the glass back down I pick up my napkin, shake it open, and spread it out on my lap, then refold it and set it back beside my glass on the table. Stalling at its finest.
“I’m assuming he’s on the soccer team also?” Mom prompts me to continue just as I’m reaching for my glass again and I draw my hand back.
“Yeah. He’s really good friends with the team captain, Tyler. I think I told you about Tyler. Nice dude, pretty funny.”
“Pretty cute too, if I recall you saying,” Dad adds with a smile in his voice. My abs tighten and my cheeks flush.
“Um, yeah. That too.” I pull my plate toward me again, pick up my fork, and push around the small grains of rice to keep my hand occupied. “Ryne and I have a few classes together. It’s been interesting.”
“In what way?”
I know it’s like pulling teeth to get me to talk right now, but it’s hard because I’m still trying to process everything myself. The words get all jumbled up when that happens. “Well, he seemed pretty nice at camp, until the very end. He seems either mad at me or just genuinely doesn’t like me. I can’t figure it out.”
Mom does the thing where she silently stares at me like she’s probing my brain and peeling away the layers to see what’s inside. Good luck with that, Mom, I don’t know what the heck is going on in there right now.
“Maybe he’s just a dick,” Dad offers.
“Ira!”
Dad shrugs and waves his hand toward me. “This is Dacen, honey. Dacen doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. If someone is being rude to him, it’s a them-problem, not a Dacen-problem.”
I bite my lip and scrunch my shoulders up to my ears. “Well...” They both look over at me. “I certainly haven’t helped things. The other day I was talking with Matt about Ryne, and he kind of overheard. I didn’t necessarily say anything bad, but nobody likes being talked about. He got ticked off and hasn’t spoken to me at all since then. It’s what’s bothering me.”
“What about it bothers you, sweetie?” I know Mom’s not asking because she thinks it shouldn’t, she’s asking to help me process. She’s really good about that.
I prop my elbow on the table and lean my cheek against my palm. It clearly bothered Ryne when I was talking about his business, totally understandable and I don’t blame him for what he said to me afterward. Nosy people are annoying in general, but the subject matter was very personal which makes it worse. Though I disagree with him tearing into me about me supposedly thinking I’m better than everyone else, I made him feel bad, and that’s really the problem. I can take being ignored by Ryne, not that it thrills me, but the thought that something I’ve done has injured him in some way, even a little bit, it’s what’s eating away at me.
I sit back again and exhale heavily. “I don’t like that I made him feel bad. He was angry, sure, but there was sadness in his eyes behind the anger.”
“Sadness?”
I look up at Mom. Her soft expression is curious and concerned. When I glance at Dad he has more of a knowing look on his face. He’s familiar with who Ryden Sutton was. His shifting expression makes him seem less inclined now to think Ryne’s a dick, and for some reason that makes me a little happier.
“Yeah. Ryne’s dad, Ryden, played pro soccer for several years. He was wicked good. But there was some sort of an accident and he died. Ryne must have only been like nine or ten maybe when it happened, I’m not exactly sure. He was definitely young. It’s what I’d been talking to Matt about, not in any detail, but still.”
“Oh, that is so sad. That poor boy had to deal with all of that at such a young age.” She makes a sympathetic noise and sets her spoon down. “I hope he has a good support system in place.”
“He does now, as far as I know. He and his sister live with their aunt and uncle.”
