Chapter 40
“Hello, hello, Jones Family,” the owner of The Jasmine Garden Chinese Restaurant greets us. She wears a silky red dress, which buttons from neck to hem. “Welcome, welcome!”
“That’s Amber’s mom,” Tabitha whispers to me. “She’s very extra.”
Dr. and Mrs. Jones embrace the owner, Mrs. Kim-McNeil, with kisses on the cheek.
Then there’s a lot of congratulating and speculating about the football game we just watched.
The volume of the conversation draws Amber over to us.
Or, should I say, to Freddy like he’s dipped in honey and Amber has a stinger.
“Sorry, I had to miss the last twenty-minutes of your game,” Amber says with a pout. She still has a two-toned blue heart on her cheek and was one of the cheerleaders Tabby was death-staring earlier at the game. “Mom needed me a-sap. Forgive me?”
Freddy smiles at her. “Always.”
Amber squeals, pressing herself against him and rubbing a circle on his lower back. “You’re the best.”
And this guy keeps telling everyone he and Amber aren’t together? Gimme a break.
“Are you taking our table, Amber?” Mrs. Jones asks.
“Unfortunately, I was given a different section,” Amber replies, side-eyeing her mom. “Aunty Jia will take care of you.”
I can’t help noticing some relief take over Freddy’s face. Okay, so maybe he’s not so into her.
We’re taken to a table at the back of the restaurant.
Dr. Jones takes the head of the table, and his wife sits to his left.
Tabby takes the seat next to her mom, and I gladly sit beside her.
Phew. As far away from Dr. Jones as possible.
Tabby signals to me to take off my beanie.
I sling it on the back of my chair as ten-year-old Corbin sits opposite me.
Freddy is across from Tabitha and acknowledges the empty seat next to him. “Drew said he was coming.”
Dr. Jones smirks at the empty seat. “A likely story.”
“He did,” Freddy insists. There’s a sad puppy energy about this guy. He eyes his dad as if he’s begging to be believed.
Dr. Jones orders for the table. The only thing I need to contribute is my drink order, and I keep it simple with a coke. The conversation is breezy, mostly centering on Freddy’s game. I pass the time by drawing circles on the back of Tabitha’s hand under the table.
“Tabitha, about earlier,” Mrs. Jones begins.
“Ouch,” I mutter when Tabitha’s hand becomes a vice grip around mine.
“I never meant to imply you were substandard or inferior,” Mrs. Jones says with a crack in her voice. “I know I can get a bit much, but…”
Tabby crunches my hand. “A bit much?”
“Tabby?” I whisper, hoping she relents on the pressure.
She doesn’t.
“Okay, I’m a lot,” her mom blurts. “I feel like there’s been a strain on our relationship for a long time, and I never meant to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend.”
“Do you…” Tabby pauses, swallowing the tremor in her tone. “Do you care because Kai heard you talk like that?”
“No.” Mrs. Jones sucks in a breath. “I care that I hurt you.”
Tabby releases the pressure on my hand, and I blow out a sigh of relief.
“Do you?” Tabby presses.
“Geez, what happened?” Freddy asks in almost a whisper.
“It’s nothing,” Dr. Jones says, sweeping it under the rug.
“Your mom implied she wasn’t proud of Tabitha,” I say pointedly, because it isn’t nothing.
Mrs. Jones gasps, shifting in her seat. “Umm, yes, that’s true.”
“Kai.” Dr. Jones broadens his frame at the head of the table. “When I invited you here, it didn’t mean you could butt into…”
“He told the truth,” Tabby interrupts.
Mrs. Jones smooths a hand over Tabitha’s ponytail. “She’s right. She’s beautiful and enough just the way she is. I’m sorry, Tabitha.”
Tabitha turns to her mom and pulls her into a hug. “Thank you.”
I watch Mrs. Jones’s hands rub circles on Tabitha’s back. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Do you love me?” Corbin pipes up from across the table.
Mrs. Jones leaves the hug, laughing. “Of course, my gorgeous boy.”
Okay, I see how Tabitha can feel second-best. If I interrupted a moment between my mom and Milo, wanting attention for myself, my mom would tell me to buzz off. Mrs. Jones only enables the younger brother.
When Tabitha settles in her seat, I find her hand under the table again. “You okay?”
Her smile is small but sincere. “Yes.”
After our food arrives, Freddy lifts his chin and says, “Drew’s here.”
Over my shoulder, Drew lazily meanders toward our table. He wears a beat-up leather jacket over a faded T-shirt, and his hands are slung in the pockets of his ripped jeans.
Man, he’s wearing something Tabitha used to ridicule me for wearing.
Drew combs a hand through my hair and tussles it roughly. “Wow. The forbidden boyfriend is at the table, and he’s still alive. Impressive.”
I wince, ducking my head away from Drew’s forceful hand. “Hey.”
“Nice of you to humble us with your presence, Drew,” Dr. Jones says sarcastically.
“A guy’s gotta eat,” Drew says matter-of-factly.
Drew pulls at the empty seat next to Freddy, but stops, his nose twitching. He shakes it off, but then sniffs hard. He wipes under his nose, and then three loud sneezes whoosh out of him.
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Jones says, watching Drew from across the table. “Your allergies?”
Drew wipes his nose and sneezes two more times before sitting.
Corbin’s blue-painted face grimaces. “Eww. Stop that.”
Drew deadpans him, holding back another sneeze. “Would if I could, little man.”
When the sneeze finally lands, Dr. Jones is quick to pull a packet of tablets from the inside pocket of his sports jacket. He hands two tablets to Drew. “Get yourself a glass of water and take these.”
Drew rolls his eyes, grabbing the pitcher of water and filling his empty glass.
“Have you been near any animals, honey?” Mrs. Jones asks Drew.
Drew plonks the near-empty glass on the table and shakes his head. “Nope.” He then looks at me. “You got any pets?”
“Uh, no,” I drawl. “Well, actually, my brother has a cat.” I lift the beanie hanging off the back of my chair. “And the cat was lying on this before I left for the game.”
Drew groans. “Great.”
“You didn’t need to touch Kai’s head.” Tabby clutches my forearm, explaining, “Drew’s allergic to cats.”
Freddy leans forward, grinning at me. “You’ve got a cat?”
“Hello?“ Drew complains. “Dying man here.”
Freddy waves him off. “You’re not dying, you’re sneezing.”
Dr. Jones watches Drew for more signs of an allergic reaction. “Do you have your inhaler with you?”
“It’s not that bad,” Drew responds.
“That’s not what I asked,” his dad says firmly.
Drew huffs and pats the pocket of his beat-up leather jacket. “I got it.”
Hmm. Cat allergies and asthma. That should make this guy less scary.
Drew reclines in his seat, cracking his knuckles. I then spy the chunky rings on his fingers.
Yeah, no. I’m still watching what I say around him.
“So, what kind of cat is it?” Freddy asks me, more interested in a feline than anyone should be.
“I dunno, ginger,” I shrug.
Tabby giggles. “Freddy’s a little cat obsessed.”
“Any animal,” Mrs. Jones says with her own melodic laugh.
“I like animals too,” Corbin pipes up. “Dad won’t let us have any pets.”
“Dad and Drew are allergic to anything with fur,” Freddy says lightheartedly. “It sucks.”
“Well, if my brother and the cat weren’t always glued together, I’d give him to you,” I say, half-joking.
“You don’t like the cat?” Dr. Jones asks, peering behind my eyes.
I flinch. “It’s not my thing.”
Dr. Jones watches me intently. “Looking after a living thing, isn’t your thing?”
Mrs. Jones whacks her husband’s arm. “Don’t put the boy on trial. He’s got other things to worry about.” She leans forward and smiles at me. “You play soccer, right? When’s your next game?”
“Tomorrow.” Please don’t offer to come.
“We should come and watch you,” she replies animatedly. “Andrew, wouldn’t that be nice?”
Dr. Jones checks his wristwatch as if the hours move into the next day. “What time is your game?”
“Uh,” I falter. “Midday.”
“He’s good,” Freddy adds. “He zips around the field, almost untouchable.”
Dr. Jones harrumphs. “Almost.”
Freddy laughs. “He got charged by some bozo. Bet you were seeing stars after that one.”
Dr. Jones narrows his stare at me. “Another concussion, I presume?”
“No,” I blurt. “I was fine. I kept playing.”
Dr. Jones leans back. “Mm-hmm.”
Tabby clears her throat, glaring at her brother. “Thanks for that, Fred.”
You almost can’t be mad at Freddy when he shines that charismatic smile your way. “I was trying to help.”
“We’ll all go tomorrow,” Mrs. Jones says giddily. “It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll go,” Corbin pipes up, extremely animated in all-blue. “They wouldn’t let me last time.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Freddy deflects.
“Again.” Tabby sighs. “Thanks.”
“Drew?” Mrs. Jones asks her son. “You’ll go too?”
Drew sneezes and then shrugs. “Pass.”
His mom huffs. “It’s not like he meant to give you allergies.”
Drew rubs his nose, muttering, “I don’t care about that.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to spend a morning on the sidelines and support someone,” his mom continues. “Okay, you say you’re over football. But soccer isn’t football.” Mrs. Jones catches herself and sends an apologetic look my way. “Oops. Sorry, Kai.”
“Don’t mention it,” I mumble, hoping to deflect the attention away from me.
“Just where were you tonight?” Dr. Jones asks Drew. “What was more important than supporting your brother?”
Drew grunts. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Dad,” Freddy says in a low voice. “It’s cool. I don’t mind if Drew skips my games.”
“Not the point.” Dr. Jones lands a fist on the tabletop. “I mind.”
A gust of awkward silence sweeps across the table. I fidget in my seat, and underneath the table, Tabby and I clutch hands.
No wonder her home life drives her insane. My dad would never create a scene like this in public. Yeah, my mom might raise an octave or two, but I definitely provoke her into it. But this. Dr. Jones set this up on his own.
The large share plates are nearly empty when Tabitha whispers to me, she needs to go to the ladies’ room. I nod, hoping a few minutes without her by my side won’t end in Dr. Jones nailing me to the wall.
Tabitha excuses herself, and then Corbin announces he needs to go as well.
Mrs. Jones groans, getting up from her seat. “Why didn’t you go with your sister?”
“She wouldn’t have taken me,” Corbin complains. “She always says I’m too big to hold hands.”
Mrs. Jones gestures for him to follow her, but stops short. “Oh, Andrew, look. Bill and Susan are here.”
Dr. Jones tosses his napkin onto the table and turns in his seat. “Well, I’ll be. I haven’t seen Bill in ages.”
Dr. Jones leaves the table as well, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
I’m not the only one. Both Drew and Freddy relax in their seats.
I lift my chopsticks, ready to dig them into my noodle dish, when something smacks into the side of my face.
“Ow!” I complain. “What the hell?”
An egg roll falls onto my lap, and oil and crumbs stick to my temple.
“That’s for messing with Tabitha,” Drew says as his arm retracts.
“Dude,“ Freddy hisses. “Not cool.”
“If you weren’t so concerned over how Dad was feeling yesterday,” Drew tells his brother, “you would’ve noticed how broken Tabitha was.”
Freddy sits back in his chair. “What are you talking about?”
I dust off the side of my face and lean forward. “Yeah. What are you talking about?”
Drew glares at me. “You made my sister feel like crap.”
My hands fly up, indignant. “How? When?”
“Drew, Tabby is into Kai,” Freddy says, not following along.
“Exactly,” Drew replies. “And he wasn’t treating her the same way.”
I wince and squint my eyes closed, trying to help this make sense. “What planet are you on? I’m sitting through dinner with her family. We’ve made things official. What are you not getting?”
“Maybe the fact you put another girl’s needs before hers.”
Freddy’s face falls, and he turns to me with a look that says he’s no longer on my side.
“What girl?” My head is spinning. “You don’t mean Jamie, do you?”
“Didn't you tell Tabitha that you’d break up with her if Jamie didn’t like her?” Drew accuses.
I grunt in disgust. “No way in hell.”
“Jamie?” Freddy questions. “I’ve seen Tabby bend over backwards, trying to talk to that girl. What else do you expect her to do, Kai?”
“Nothing.” I huff, my arms hanging at my sides. “I know how much Tabby has tried. That’s why Jamie and I are fighting.”
“So, she’s not moving into your house anymore?” Drew questions.
“What?” Freddy’s mouth hangs open. “What the heck, Kai?”
Drew tilts his head at Freddy. “Did you really pay zero attention to Tabby yesterday?”
“Clearly,” Freddy responds. “Who knew you were the doting brother?”
Drew rolls his eyes. “I care.” His gaze is fixed on me. “Do you?”
“I’m here,” I defend.
“And?” Freddy and Drew say at once.
“I care about her,” I say firmly. “I like her. I really like her.”
“Umm,” Tabby’s voice falters, returning to the table and staring at all of us. “What’s going on here?”