Page 14 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

Jasper laughs, leaning against the counter, already dressed, already ready, and with an extra pair of clean, dry socks in his hand that he tosses to Jason.

I stand there with my folder pressed to my chest. Forms. Permission slips. Emergency contact stuff that hasn’t changed since… ever. My fingers curl around the edges, bending them a little.

“Mom,” I say.

She doesn’t hear me. Or she does, and she can’t stop herself mid-thought when she’s on a mission. “Water?”

“Got it,” Jasper states.

“Mouthguard?”

“Yeah, Mom, of course.”

“Jason, I swear if you forgot⁠—”

“I didn’t.”

“Mom,” I try again, louder this time.

She turns, finally, and for a second, I think I have her attention. But she points to the bag next to me. “Can you bring this to the car?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

I nod even though she isn’t looking anymore and grab the bag, pushing the door open with my shoulder, sighing.

“You okay?” Jasper asks.

“She’s good.” Jason winks as he rushes past me. “Let’s roll!”

The air outside is warm, thick, the kind that sticks to your skin. I kind of hate it, but I’m also not ready for six months of snow. But at least things slow down then.

I could’ve said, “Hey, I got my period, but I’ll wait for my turn.” Right now, it’s theirs. I know it’s just a part of life; it’s normal. But you don’t just say that. Not with everyone around, especially my brothers.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jasper asks, waving his hand for me to go ahead of him.

I nod. “Ready to watch you two kick butt.”

“As long as you’re cheering us on, we’ll do that.” He says as he passes me, jogging to the car.

Mom is headed back this way. If she asks, I’ll tell her about field hockey instead. The period talk can wait till after the game.

I said I wasn’t going to try out. I meant it. But that was before Tessa and Becca started talking about it like it was already a foregone conclusion. Before they started planning rides and practices, I was already part of it.

Modified. Middle school. I want that.

“Mom,” I start again when she walks past me to the house.

“Forgot the keys, go get in the car, I’ll be right out.”

The field smells like grass and dirt and summer fading away. I sit on the bleachers with Tessa and Becca, my folder next to me, my knees pulled up.

“You’re being weird,” Tessa says.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Becca leans in. “What happened?”