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My father is concealing something. I’ve learned to recognize when he is troubled—it’s as clear as day. This went on for months before my mother left. It continued when he found out about my pregnancy. Now, it seems to be connected to Reed in some way.
“Okay, kiddo. I’ll call Logan.”
“Good luck tonight.”
Now, I’m left to wonder why Reed wasn’t at practice. I didn’t want to pry any details from my dad, not wanting him to know of my feelings for another one of his asshole hockey players. He was supposed to be an orgasm, not a boyfriend. So, why am I reeling from the rejection? Upset over his reaction to wearing my father’s jersey?
Harper offered me her number in case I wanted to attend the Evy Brown Cheer-Off, a charity event aimed at raising funds for families facing financial hardships while their children are in the hospital. I can’t just call and ask if Reed is okay? Or ask if he came home after he blew up at the café?
What I need is to talk to Lettie and see if she can get the basketball team to sign up to do the fundraiser, then I’ll have a reason to contact Harper.
Me:Can you come over before I go to work tonight?
Lettie:Sure. Be there at four.
After classes, I pick up Caleb, and we play a game of Hi Ho Cherry O’s that helps him learn to count, add, and subtract. He cackles whenever I spin and have to remove cherries. He’s competitive like his mom and his asshole father.
We curl up on the couch and watch a movie with talking cars until he’s fast asleep. He’s snuggled into my arms, and I lie there, wide awake, my emotions mixed and thoughts running.
Is Reed in trouble? Is he hurt?
Is he at home just telling my dad and the hockey team to fuck off?
Then a thought pops into my head that I want to erase permanently.
Is he shacked up with another girl and lost all track of time?
Stop. Just stop.
I wake up to Lettie pounding on the door.
“Coming.”
When I open the door, Lettie says, “You wish.”
“What? Oh… I’m coming. I get it now.” We both smile. Lettie is everyone’s favorite friend. She’s a bundle of energy and never runs out. Talkative, sarcastic, and lovable all rolled into one.
She heads straight to the fridge and grabs a yogurt. She can’t talk unless she’s eating or drinking.
We sit in the kitchen while I pull up details of the fundraiser on my laptop. “I’ll call Dane. His cousin had cancer, and I remember how hard it was on the family.”
I lean over to hug her. “Did his cousin make it?”
She purses her lips, and her eyes fill with tears. “He did, but it was touch and go for many months.” She sits up straight and tugs at her shirt. Lettie doesn’t like to show any clinks in her armor. “He’s graduating high school in May.”
“Then Dane has to speak. Call him.”
She wastes no time and dials his number. Lettie paces around the house, anxiously nibbling on her thumbnail as they converse. After she hangs up, she rolls her eyes and remarks, “He’s going to get some sorority girls he knows to do the skit with the basketball team.”
“Awesome, but did you say you would be in it too?”
“No, I’m not pretty enough or coordinated enough.”
I push her arm. “Are you kidding? Dane drools over you, and you don’t seem to notice.” Dane is probably sulking, wanting her to feel what he feels when she’s flirting or going home with different guys.
“We’re best friends. He’s not into me like that.” She turns around, grabbing a banana from the counter and stuffing her mouth immediately to ensure she doesn’t say anything she’ll regret.
“Whatever you say. Thanks, I’ll call Harper and let her know his contact information and yours. You’re going to be the coordinator of Dane’s little routine.”
