Chapter 13
Mallorie Jade
17 years old
As I step through the front door, I hear yelling from somewhere in the house. It’s nothing new. There’s always yelling anymore.
My dad’s deep baritone voice reaches my ears, but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. Carefully, I slip my shoes off, set my backpack on the floor, and tiptoe to where the voices are coming from in the back of the house. The kitchen has two entries, one open to the dining room and another with a swinging door. I veer toward the one with a door so I can stay hidden behind it and listen in.
“No son of mine will be going to a community college. We’ve worked too hard on your football career to end up there.”
Langston says something that I miss. I press my ear harder to the door.
“No,” my dad roars. “We have one wild child—we don’t need another one. You’ve always done what we’ve asked of you, Langston. I expect that to continue.”
It’s no shock that I’m not the daughter my parents wanted—too wild—but it still hurts every time they confirm it, even if I try not to let it. Especially in moments like this when my brother quietly says, “Okay, Dad.”
It’s not something I’m proud of, but sometimes, I resent my brother for being unable to say no to them.
My dad’s voice is calm now as he says, “This is for your own good, Son.”
It makes me want to barge through and ask him what he knows about what’s good for Langston and me. He’s hardly ever around, working late at the hospital most days. He’s a surgeon there, and I get it. He’s doing good things for people—but it would be nice if he could do things in his own home sometimes, too. The only time he feels it necessary to acknowledge us is if we step outside his perfect plan because we can’t let anyone see that Dr. Harrison has strife within his own home. That would be scandalous, and I would know because I cause strife a lot.
I can practically hear the words of the town every time I make a bad decision.“Poor Dr. Harrison and his wife. They are such a respectable Christian family. That girl of theirs is always causing trouble, though.”
Well, yeah, Linda, I am because it feels like I’m constantly being smothered to fit a mold I don’t fit into.
Stepping back from the door so I don’t get beamed in the head when Langston eventually walks through, I let the conversation with him and my dad play through my mind.
Langston had a doctor’s appointment today since he got hurt at practice last week. I wonder if that has anything to do with his sudden decision to want to go to a community college.
The door swings open, and I wedge myself between it and the wall so Langston doesn’t know I’m here. When the hinges swing closed, I wait for one more second to make sure Langston’s back is to me, and then I jump, taking him by surprise and tackling him to the ground.
He’s twice my size, and surprise is the only way I can take him down anymore. His shoulders shake with laughter.
“Get off me, you menace. What are you doing?”
He’s lying face down on the ground where I tackled him, and I use all of my weight to keep him down—not that it would be effective if he really wanted up. Plenty of times, he’s done push-ups with me on his back.
“I’m extorting information out of you, duh. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know?”
“Depends on what you want to know,” he says, some of the lightness from before leaving his voice because he knows exactly what I want to know.
Sliding off his back, I stand up and put out my hand to help him up. He takes it and nearly pulls me down with him in the process of him standing.
“Jerk,” I mumble, slapping him on the chest. “Come on. Let’s go talk outside.”
“Yeah, I’m the jerk when you’re the one who surprise-tackled me.”
With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, he follows me until we sit beside each other in lounge chairs at the pool.
When we are both settled, I school my features and ask, “What was that back there? Why was Dad talking about you going to community college?”
The muscle in Langston’s jaw twitches as he stares off past the pool. His eyes are blank. My parents are slowly killing his drive with each demand they make. I hate it. I’m losing my big brother, and I don’t know how to fight that.
“It’s nothing. It was just an idea—a stupid one.”
“Don’t do that, L.”
He rolls his head toward me. “Do what?”
“You know what. Don’t let Dad make you feel like everything outside his idea is not worth your time. That’s not true. It’s your life to live, not dad’s. Do you not want to play football anymore?”
Langston looks at me, shock crossing his features before he hides it behind his indifferent mask.
“No one’s asked me that before.”
Reaching out, I squeeze his hand. “Maybe you should ask yourself that. Because your answer is the only one that matters.”
“I went to the doctor today and had my MRI done. Dad pulled some strings so we could have the results sooner.”
“And?” I prod.
“My ACL is sprained, which means one wrong move this season, and my college career is over, which means I have no NFL career to follow. I thought I would be sad hearing that, but—I was relieved. I’m tired of putting my body through grueling practices and runs. I’m eighteen years old, and I hurt every day. What’s it going to be like when I’m thirty? So I thought maybe this would give me the excuse I needed to get out. I told Dad I could go to a community college and then medical school just like he did, but he’s living out his football dreams through me—so that was never really an option.”
“You’re right, Langston. You are eighteen, and that means it’s not his choice anymore. So if you don’t want to play, don’t play.”
He pulls his hand out of mine as if I’ve offended him by merely showing him there’s a choice, and there’s a gruff growl of annoyance in his throat when he says, “It’s not that easy. You wouldn’t understand.”
My laugh is dark and sarcastic as I sit up in my lounger and glare at him. “Yeah, because I’m already the screw-up. I couldn’t possibly understand what it means to let your parents down, right Langston?”
“That’s not what I meant, Mallorie Ja—”
“No,” I say, lifting my hand to stop him from continuing. “Don’t you dare use my real name to try and scold me because you think I’m acting like a child. You forget that I’ve known you my whole life. I know your tells. Yeah, Langston, I’m the screw-up, but at least I’ll be the one living the life I want to—not miserable living the life Mom and Dad forced me into.”
Jumping to my feet, I start to walk away. I only stop long enough to look over my shoulder and say, “One day, you’re going to have to be big enough to stand up to them.”
Then I leave, hoping he truly heard what I said.
______________________
Two days after my talk with Langston, I get my answer.
He is back on the football field with a knee brace and general disregard for his safety.
I’m in the bleachers, watching for any sign that he’s hurting. Maybe if his coaches notice, they won’t let him play. Surely someone, anyone besides me, has his best interest at heart, or is everything here about winning a state title?
I know the answer to that question as soon as I ask it. It’s no secret how badly the whole town is gunning to make it to state, and with Langston and Hayes, the power duo, they finally feel like we have a chance. Our football team always makes it to playoffs, but we fall short every year. But the word around school is that this is our year.
Letting my eyes fall from Langston to the second half of that power duo, I study Hayes in his football pants and practice jersey. My heart skitters in my chest like the flaps of a hummingbird’s wings, and suddenly, I’m glad I’m wearing sunglasses when I lift my gaze from how well those pants mold to the muscles in his legs. He’s staring at me.
He’s wearing a smirk, and I’m afraid my heart will fall right out of my chest when his lips tilt up a little higher, and he winks.
Since the day he stole my first kiss, Hayes and I have been playing a dangerous game.
Can it really be considered stealing when you willingly handed it to him, though?
I don’t know.
All I know is that I would give him my whole world if he would just ask.
Unfortunately for me, though, he does not. He’s content to keep that kiss a secret and send me heated looks when he knows Langston’s not watching, and I outwardly flirt, making it hard for him to ignore me.
I mean, I get it—he’s my brother’s best friend, but at the same time, man up—you know?
Making a show, I blow him a kiss, and Langston glares at me, shaking his head.
He’s told me a million times to leave Hayes alone because I’m being a nuisance, but he doesn’t know about that kiss.
As the boys return to their practice, I run my fingers along my lips where I swear, sometimes, I can still feel Hayes’s lips scorched onto mine.
One day, I’m going to walk right up to Hayes and kiss him in front of everyone because here’s the thing: I might put on this mask so that everyone thinks I’m wild and free and unable to be tamed, but really, I’m just a scared girl trying to figure out who I am. So the idea of walking up to Hayes and kissing him only for him to reject me scares me because he’s the only person that’s ever really seen the real me. He doesn’t judge me for wanting to be different from the daughter my parents wanted or the mistakes I continuously make in my search for the girl I am. Instead, he listens when I talk and laughs at my mistakes so I can, too.
My attention must have strayed for too long because before I know it, the final whistle is blowing, signaling the end of practice.
Gathering my backpack, I sling it across my shoulder and take the bleacher steps two at a time. This has become my routine. I wait around at practice, making sure that Langston is okay, and then I pray I get the chance to talk to Hayes before his fan girl club shows up and surrounds him. I’m like a dog with a bone, hoping that Hayes throws me a little scrap of attention.
Gosh, I’m pathetic.
Maybe I should go on a date?
I mean, I’m seventeen, and I’ve yet to go on an actual date. I know some of that is because Langston is an overprotective jerk. He acts like I don’t know that he threatened the entire football team my Freshman year, but I’m not that dumb. Besides, the football boys are not the only guys in the school. If I tried, I could find someone else, but the problem is I don’t want to.
Sighing, I lean against the metal building outside the locker room and wait for my daily interaction with a boy who will never really allow himself to see me as more than his best friend’s little sister.
Langston is the first one out of the locker room, and he gives me a strange look when he sees me standing there.
“Are you waiting for me?” he asks.
“No, but I see our conversation went in one ear and out the other. Should have seen that one coming.”
He shifts his bag higher on his shoulder and avoids my gaze. “Can we not do this? I made my decision. Get off my back about it.”
I dig my fingers into one of the screws on the metal, letting its edges dig into my skin to ground me. “That’d be easier if I thought it was your decision.”
A flash of hurt bolts across his face, but I ignore it. I can’t remember one time I’ve ever actually been mad at my brother, but right now, anger boils under my skin. I can’t understand what hold my parents have over him. Sure, everyone wants to please their parents, including me, but not to my own detriment.
“I’m not having this conversation again. The decision has been made, so drop it. But speaking of decisions—stop making bad ones when it comes to Hayes. Leave him alone. He doesn’t see you that way, and you’re embarrassing yourself.”
My head whips back as if he slapped me.
In that moment, it’s my father’s son standing in front of me, not my brother. He picked his words carefully, ones that he knew would sting. Although, I should be used to it. Mom tells me all the time how embarrassing I am. Yet, those words coming out of Langston’s mouth cut deeper than any knife could have. Swallowing hard, I let my mask fall over my face—the one I’ve perfected. It says that I couldn’t care less what others think about me, but under it, I worry I’ll bleed out from the wound Langston just delivered.
Standing tall, I square my shoulders and face off with my big brother—the boy I’ve looked up to my entire life. “Message received, L. In more ways than one.”
He huffs and shoves his hands through his hair, still not meeting my gaze.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I—” he starts, but I put my hand up, stopping him.
“I’ve heard what I need to, and I’m sorry you find me so embarrassing.”
“MJ,” he says, stepping closer and finally looking me in the eye. “I’m just—I don’t know. There’s a lot of pressure right now, and I was angry. I’m sorry.”
I try to fake a smile, but it’s wobbly. I need to get out of here before someone sees me break. There’s a lot I can handle, but having others witness my breakdown so that it can be turned into gossip later might kill me.
“You know what? It’s fine, L. I get it. I—I got to go.”
Then I’m walking away from my brother with a broken heart that hurts more than any boyfriend could ever deliver, and as I walk, I hear the voice that I sometimes dream about asking, “What’s wrong with MJ?”
I don’t dare turn around because if I do, I might do something embarrassing, like run back into his arms and beg him to fill the pieces of me that seem to be missing.