Chapter 6 Zeke
six
Zeke
What are you doing here?” My mom sets down her book.
“You fainted.” I’m still out of breath from the trip down here. There’s nothing scarier than having to drive for over an hour, not knowing if your mom’s okay.
“I didn’t faint.” She sighs. “I lost my balance in the bathroom, and they made it a huge deal. I told them not to call you.”
“And I told them to call me anytime something happens. I guess we know which one of us they listen to.”
“You’re supposed to be in class.”
“Being here is more important to me.”
I avoid telling her I was missing class regardless.
“Not if your grades slip, Zeke.” She points to the chair beside her, which usually means it’s time for one of her talks.
“Mom.” I groan, staying where I am.
“Sit.” She points again, but this time I oblige. “If your grades slip, you’ll be benched for next Saturday’s game. The first game of the season, Zeke. And what will the Red Wings think if they hear that? They’ll think they made a mistake drafting you, Zeke.”
“My grades are fine, mom.”
“They better be. I’ve been telling everyone here that my son’s going to be a professional hockey player for my favorite team.” She smiles. “Well, I guess whatever team you’re playing for will be my favorite.”
“They could still decide not to sign me after I graduate. There’s no guarantee that—”
“Well, that’d be a huge mistake on their part. Because if they don’t sign you, I will haunt every one of them.”
“Mom,” I mumble. “You won’t be able to do that because you’ll be there when I sign that contract, okay?”
“I don’t know what’ll be worse for them. Me in the flesh and blood or me as a ghost.”
She laughs. I don’t.
“Oh, come on, sweetie.” She reaches for my hand. “The only way to get through this is to laugh. If we lose laughter, we lose everything.”
“I just don’t like thinking about you not being here.”
I rub my nose to avoid sniffling, but it happens anyway.
“They told me five years ago that I wasn’t going to make it to Christmas.” She places her hand on my cheek, allowing me to lean into it. “I’ve witnessed four Christmases since then… and I plan on witnessing my fifth this year.”
“And every Christmas after.”
“I gotta go at some point.”
“Not until I’ve played my first game with the Red Wings… and gotten married… and had kids. Got it?”
I feel the tears welling in my eyes as she brushes her thumb against my cheek.
“Got it.”
You’re one of fourteen kids?” Ember stares at Fletcher as if he told her he was born with a tail.
“Yeah.” He laughs because his large family is normal to the rest of us. “Four older siblings and nine younger siblings.”
“Wow,” she takes a bite of her food, “I don’t know how your moms did it. I mean, my mom could barely handle my brother and me.”
Ember’s almost exactly how I remember her. The same light ivory skin from spending most of her childhood indoors, same dark-blonde hair, except now it’s longer, making it easier to cover her face.
Except she’s not covering her face. That’s new. The few times she came to our games to support her brother, her hair was down, hiding her face from the crowd. Or she was in a hoodie, even when it was too warm for one.
But today, it’s like she doesn’t care.
We’ve technically all known Ember for years. It’s hard not to know her when you play hockey with her brother, but we never really knew her. She always seemed like a figment of our imagination; the second you took your eyes off of her, she’d disappear.
But today, she stuck around.
Kicked my ass a few times at NHL 17 too.
You would think it’d be easy to beat her since I actually play the game of hockey, but she kicked my ass three times before Brinley got us for dinner.
“I don’t know how they did it either,” Fletcher replies. “I guess they never planned for all of us kids, though. Both of my moms’ had 2 kids from previous relationships, then they had me and my sister through a donor, and slowly, the rest of the family came.”
“His moms were foster parents,” Declan chimes in. “They always tried their hardest to help kids get back to their birth parents, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible.”
“They never planned on adopting any of the kids they were fostering, but most of them weren’t babies, so—”
“Not many people would consider adopting them,” Ember says. “So, your moms did.”
“In many ways, they were already a part of the family; a piece of paper just made it legally official.” Fletcher sits back in his chair.
“I don’t want to be that person, but did you ever,” Ember sighs, “did you ever get upset that they did that?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “They always asked us before they considered fostering more kids, and we knew there was a chance it would turn into more. I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t have all of them.”
“And by the time Fletcher was in Kindergarten, his older siblings were in college, anyway. So, the house wasn’t too crowded,” I pat Fletcher on the back.
“Your moms sound pretty amazing.” Ember smiles.
“They are,” he replies.
“Do you miss the chaos of living at home?” She leans forward.
“Oh, trust me,” Brinley begins. “It’s plenty chaotic here.”
“Not even close,” Declan argues. “And you realize you don’t live here, so you don’t have to come over every night if you don’t like it.”
“I live by myself, goober; it gets lonely when I’m not here.”
“You could’ve had a roommate,” Declan adds.
“I need my space.”
“Of course you do.” He shakes his head.
“So, Ember,” I begin, changing the subject, “are you a real hockey fan? Or just a fan of NHL 17?”
“I’m as real as it gets.” She crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. “Does that make your ego feel a little better about me kicking your ass?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know next time you come over. For all you know, I’m letting you win. Maybe I’m taking it easy on you.”
“If I wasn’t taking it easy on you, you wouldn’t even get close to scoring.”
“Trust me, I do plenty of scoring.” I wink, and she tosses a crumpled-up napkin at me.
“I meant in hockey, you perve.”
“So did I.” I lie.
“Alright,” Ember stands up, “as fun as this has been, I should get home.”
“You could stay the night,” I begin. “I’ve got a nice, big… bed with your name on it.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather sleep in my bed.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Declan smiles as he gets up.
“Okay.” Ember looks at Brinley. “You want a ride back to your place?”
“Ooo, sure!” Brinley jumps out of her chair. “Have fun with the dishes, boys.”
“You cooked; the least we could do is clean up,” Jaxon replies, gathering plates from the table as Declan walks Brinley and Ember outside.
“Alright, how long before they jump in the sack?” I wonder.
“I’m not taking part in this.” Jeremy pushes away from the table, collecting the remaining dishes as Jaxon returns.
“Taking part in what?” Jaxon asks.
“A bet,” Fletcher replies for me. “Zeke wants our guesses on—”
“Oh, Ember and Declan sleeping together?” Jaxon finishes his sentence. “I think they’ll fight the sexual tension until the project is over, and once it is, they’ll be fucking before they even have their grade.”
“Really, you think they’ll wait that long? Brooks,” I begin. “what do you think?”
“I think we’re too old for these childish games,” he says.
“Come on, guys, why is Jaxon the only fun one? We could all say when we think it will happen, and whoever’s closest gets fifty bucks.”
“Only fifty?” Fletcher crosses his arms. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Fine, fifty from each participant.”
“Hmm, tempting, but no thanks, man. Tate would murder me if she found out I made a bet about Declan’s love life.”
“Fine, just me and you, Jax. I think they’ll be together before the end of November. I mean, honestly, I don’t know how they’ll make it through October,” I respond. “Declan had his eyes on her the whole night.”
“Oh, for sure,” Jaxon continues. “Declan’s totally a goner already. Ember’s a wild card, though. I still can’t get a read on whether she likes Declan.”
“You’re just unsure because you sense the sexual tension between us.”
“Pretty sure there isn’t any.” Jaxon pats my back. “I’m so winning this bet.”
“In your dreams, Holmes.”
In your dreams.