Chapter 7 #2
There is a modest TV and a few video games lined up on a bookshelf next to several thick fantasy books that I could do bicep curls with, but most of the room is dominated by a large table covered in what look like maps, character sketches, and tiny fantastical figurines.
A twin-sized bed rests against the opposite wall with the dark blue comforter neatly made.
Boxes are stacked everywhere, some open and some still taped shut. Besides the TV, the walls are bare.
“What is this?” I walk over to the table and pick up a figure. It’s a goblin . . . thing.
“This is Dungeons and Dragons. I’m in the middle of a campaign right now.”
“You really are the quintessential nerd, aren’t you?” I smile to show I’m teasing, and Zeke smiles back.
“Yeah, that’s me. Anything nerdy, I do. Name something.”
I look up. “Video games?”
Zeke nods. “Yes.”
“But a lot of people play video games. They’re not that nerdy.
” Noah and Troy like to play on the weekends.
I’ve never understood the appeal, and I always chose to turn on a romcom with Suzy rather than watch them play.
Maybe if I had been interested in more of his hobbies, we would still be .
. . I shake my head. I can’t think like that.
I walk across the room and take a look at his games. Multiple versions of Zelda, Pokémon, Minecraft, and more. “You like building and puzzle games.” I shake my head. “Extremely nerdy.”
“But they’re so fun!” Zeke’s eyes light up. “I could show you sometime, if you want.”
“Noah has tried many times to get me to play video games, and he’s never succeeded. Anime?” I ask.
Zeke shrugs. “I enjoy some of it. Naruto and One Piece are awesome.”
“And you’re obviously super smart,” I say. “Nerd.”
I take another look at the intricate set up on the gaming table, the many characters and villains laid out. “Are you playing with someone else right now?”
Zeke picks up a sheet of paper—a character sketch of an elf, I think. “My brothers and I play virtually. It’s not quite as good as when they’re here and we can play in person, but it works, and I get to see them every week.”
I give him a small, sad smile. “Zeke. I’m sure there are other people at school who are into this. You should give them a chance. Find your people.”
“I’ve done the friend thing. Not again. Though my parents would agree with you.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. It makes me sad for some reason to think that this sweet, funny, super nerd will not have any friends here. “They pressure you a lot?”
Zeke sets down the paper and sighs. “Yeah. They’re threatening to take away my gaming systems if I can’t make some friends.”
“That’s rough. I’m so sorry.” I set my backpack down on the floor. “What are you going to do?”
Zeke shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I can’t lose my gaming systems. They are how I make my YouTube videos. If I can’t keep making content, I’ll lose subscribers. And I . . . I love it. I don’t want to stop making content.”
“I completely get it. It’s hard when parents want to control every aspect of your life,” I say, bitterness leaking into my voice.
“I don’t know if it’s that.” Zeke gathers up the papers on the gaming table to clear some space, shuffling them into a neat stack. “Mom and Dad care, I know. I just wish they would understand that I can’t go through that hurt again. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Zeke pulls a Dungeons and Dragons box off his shelf and starts putting away the figurines. I join in to help, though I feel a bit bad that he has to clear away this intricate set up for me. “Bleh. That really sucks,” I say. “I wish I could help.”
“Thanks, Callie.”
I take a seat at the now cleared table. “Well, we should probably start on my homework.”
Zeke palms his forehead. “Sorry. Yeah.”
“My mom will roast me over the coals if I come home with nothing done.”
Mia dances past the open door chanting, “Get roasted. Get roasted.”
Caroline’s voice calls out, “Mia! We do not say, ‘get roasted.’ Can you imagine Jesus saying to Peter, ‘Get roasted, get roasted’?”
I cover my mouth to hold in a laugh while Zeke hurries to close the door. He sits next to me at the table, and we immerse ourselves in Chemistry, History, and English.
Caroline brings us a plate of non-burnt cookies about an hour into our study session. I take one to be polite and try a bite. I taste cinnamon, pecan, and brown sugar. “Mmmm.”
Caroline smiles. “You like them?”
“These are definitely bake sale worthy.”
Zeke gives Caroline a thumbs up. “These are your best batch yet.”
She sighs. “The church is asking for a whole lot more than these, though. They want variety. This is the biggest fundraiser of the year, and we’re short-handed. You sure you don’t want to help out, Callie?” She smiles. “I get the feeling that you know your way around the kitchen.”
My first inclination is to help her. When I see a problem, I want to fix it.
“I wish I could,” I say, fighting the urge.
“But really, you don’t want me in the kitchen.
I’m hopeless.” I laugh awkwardly, not quite knowing why I said what I did.
Maybe I’m ashamed of my hobby. Maybe I can only see Mom’s disapproving frown when I think about it.
“Let me know if you change your mind, honey.” Caroline leaves the plate of cookies dangerously close to me and exits the room.
I push the plate toward Zeke. “Get these away from me.”
He laughs and removes the plate from the table. We’re bending over another organic chemistry problem when I say, “Zeke, why don’t you make some friends? I know it’s hard, but, losing your gaming systems is hard, too, right?”
Zeke sighs and closes the book. “I guess we’re done for the day.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your business.”
Zeke looks alarmed. “No, Callie. You’re fine. Our time is almost up, anyway.”
I start putting my stuff away, and I think that maybe he’s going to dodge my question, when he says, “We’re three weeks into school now and Mom and Dad haven’t seen me bring a single person over to hang out.” He glances up, briefly meeting my eyes. “Until you.”
I smile slightly.
“I sit in here and game after I finish my homework. They’re worried. They don’t understand why I can’t . . . I can’t do that again.”
“Why?” I can’t imagine why anyone would choose to sit at lunch alone day after day.
People are already whispering about him.
“You’re sweet and fun to be with.” My cheeks heat.
Why is it that around Zeke my social filter seems to die?
I end up saying whatever comes to my brain without thinking it through.
“You should have no problem making friends.”
Zeke smiles. “Thank you.” He takes my chem book and somehow finds space for it in my full backpack.
“But . . . I’ve been hurt before. We’ve moved so much in my life with my dad’s job, and I’ve made friends, even though it’s not easy, starting over every year or two.
I’ve been promised time after time that people will keep in touch, and they never do.
So now I have an arsenal of wishy-washy Facebook friends, people who say they won’t forget about me, but they always do. I’m tired of being let down.”
I look at Zeke with wide eyes, at the hurt flickering across his face, and my heart squeezes. “I’m so sorry that’s happened to you.”
Zeke gives me a sad smile and zips up my backpack. “We’re moving again at the end of the semester, so I won’t even get to finish a whole school year here. There’s just no point.”
I feel like I’ve pried too much, uncovered too many deep feelings. “I’m so sorry, Zeke. I shouldn’t have—”
“Callie,” Zeke says earnestly. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted that deep friendships just aren’t a thing I will have in my life.”
“That’s . . . that’s so sad.”
“Yeah,” he says. “But it’s better this way. I promise.”
Zeke carries my heavy backpack and we make our way through the living room. I spy Zeke’s mama and Mia through the window, jumping on their trampoline in their backyard holding hands, Mia laughing hysterically. It does something to me, awakens some pang of longing.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Zeke asks.
I feel bad imposing, but the alternative is to call my mom and explain where I’ve been. Though she’d approve of the tutoring, she’d wonder why we came here instead of home.
“That would be great. Thanks.”
We walk to Zeke’s car through their quaint front yard. It was nice to distract myself with someone else’s problems for a while, but just like that, I’m filled with worry again. Unlike Zeke, I don’t have the luxury of not caring about what people think.