Chapter 22
Brooks
Mom had finally come home. Dad and I got through the rest of February without any more deep talks about life. The best part was Friday nights when I got to hang out with the Walters family.
This Friday was no different. I was even more eager to be at their place because Mom and Dad were actually talking, and I didn’t want to mess that up.
Maybe going home to Minnesota had been a good thing for Mom.
She seemed less uptight. Dad, on the other hand, seemed more stressed.
I knew it was because he didn’t do well without Mom around, even though he swore he did.
Anyway, Brielle had warned me she had her interview call with the Teen Writers about the internship this Friday night.
I couldn’t tell if she’d mentioned it to me ‘cause she didn’t want me to come over, or because she wanted me to be around for moral support.
Either way, Reece wanted me to come. We’d gotten the schedule for games, and the first one was in four weeks—right at the end of March.
Assuming Wisconsin weather cooperated. So Reece wanted to work out in the basement.
Practice started this next week. Things seemed a little early this year, but what did I know? I didn’t set the baseball schedule.
About halfway through pizza, Brielle pushed back from the table. She looked about as white as a brand-new baseball. I glanced at the clock and realized it was time for her interview.
“You got this,” Reece said, his cheeks bulging with pizza.
Mrs. Walters reached over and squeezed Brielle’s hand. Mr. Walters gave her a silent nod of encouragement.
Brielle’s gaze landed on me. I could see tears swimming in her eyes.
They were what I called “Bri’s stress tears”.
She got them when she was on the edge. I figured her family knew this and would do something, but they all went back to their pizza.
Maybe they were just used to it being Brielle’s way of processing life.
I wasn’t used to it, though. All I could think of was Gizmo, my rescued cat, needing to be saved.
“Want me to come?”
“Yes!” Brielle nodded.
“No.” Mr. Walters stated.
“Why?” Brielle moaned, giving her dad a very sad look that he’d have to have nerves of steel to refuse.
He had nerves of steel. “Because. This has nothing to do with Brooks. This is about your future. You need to learn to do this stuff on your own. Not to mention, I don’t want you distracted.”
“Like they’re going to be making out during a video interview,” Reece muttered.
“Reece Walters!” Mrs. Walters chided.
“That’s not what I meant.” Mr. Walters gave Reece such a stern look that Reece bit back his teasing grin and actually used a fork to cut his next bite of pizza. “You can do this, Brielle.”
She nodded.
I could tell she was still trying not to cry. Her hands were shaking too.
Mrs. Walters noticed. She shot her husband a look. She felt like I did. We both wanted to save Brielle—or at least be there for her.
When Brielle exited the room, Mr. Walters addressed his wife, even though I knew he was also including me. “Brielle has been preparing for this for some time. We’ve got to let her do it on her own. We’re not always going to be there for her.”
“I know, but—” Mrs. Walters exchanged looks with me. “If it makes her less nervous just to have Brooks or me outside the door, we could—”
“Stacy.” Mr. Walters reached out and gripped Mrs. Walters’s hand. “Our girl has this. I want her to know that she can do it. I’m proud of her.”
Just when I started to like Mr. Walters a little less, I ended up liking him a little more.
The minutes ticked by.
Reece finished his pizza, so we helped Mrs. Walters clean up, which involved the super tough task of throwing our paper plates in the garbage.
“Ready?” Reece tipped his head in the direction of the basement.
“Yep.” We left his parents behind and made our way through the hall. We’d just gotten to the basement door when I heard a creak on the floor.
Reece and I turned.
Brielle stood there, her eyes huge in her face. She motioned wildly for me to come.
I shook my head. “Your dad said no.”
Brielle shot a glance in the direction of where we’d eaten. “I need you to come,” she hissed.
“Bri!” Reece frowned. Apparently, he wasn’t used to Brielle’s outright defiance any more than I was.
“You don’t understand!” Her eyes filled with those nervous tears again. “They want to talk to you!” She leveled a stare on me that cracked my resolve—and made me question life.
“Me?”
“Brooks?”
Reece and I exchanged looks.
“Yes. Modern technology and the impact of AI on teenage relationships.” She stated each word with such exaggerated enunciation that I could see that Brielle was jammed between a rock and a hard place.
“Ok.” I looked to Reece.
Reece shook his head in warning.
I lifted my hands. “She needs me.” I mean, that had to count for something.
“Brooks, man,” Reece started.
I held up a hand. “If they’re asking to talk to me, what do I do?
Say no and wreck Bri’s interview?” With that, I followed Brielle down the hall to the office where the interview was taking place over video.
I heard Reece sigh. I even heard him mutter, “And here we go.” It was ominous.
Doomsday. Like me helping Brielle with her interview was directly defying Mr. Walters.
It was—except circumstances had shifted.
I didn’t have time to go ask Mr. Walters.
I had to make a decision, and it was obvious what that decision should be.
I’d been requested by the Teen Writers school, and Brielle was—Well, she was my weak spot.
Of course, I was going to help her out.