Page 10 of The Wrong Quarterback

Being the youngest of three brothers when your oldest brother was a rockstar, and the other brother was a superstar NHL goalie wasn’t easy. I absolutely jumped on chances like this to make fun of one of them.

Shaking my head, I walked over to my locker and pulled out my phone.

Dangit. Walker had already seen the picture and started the fun without me.

Walker: I’d like to file a formal complaint.

Cole: ?

I quickly typed out a supporting response.

Me: I’m joining.

Cole: Okay, I’ll join in too.

Walker: You can’t join in. The formal complaint is against you.

Cole: Well, now I just feel attacked.

Me: We’re the ones who should feel attacked. You share the same last name as us, and you appeared on national television with a fucking bird on your head.

Cole: Oh, you liked that.

I snorted, and Jace came over to read the conversation over my shoulder.

Walker: What part of this conversation screamed that we liked it?

Cole: It’s called fashion.

Me: It’s called embarrassing. I wish it had crapped on your head.

“Good one,” Jace muttered, as I elbowed him for standing practically on top of me.

Cole: It was stuffed!

Walker: Somehow that makes it worse.

Me: …

Cole: Hey! None of that rhombus of ridiculousness shit.

Walker: Do you mean Circle of Trust? Because if so, that’s blasphemy. If not, what the hell is the rhombus of ridiculousness?

Cole: Tomato, Tuh-mot-oh.

Me: I don’t even know what you’re saying right now.

Walker: Me neither.

Me: New family rule. No stuffed animals are allowed on national television.

Cole: I can’t promise that, Parkie. It’s whatever I’m feeling in the moment.

Walker: How about the next time you get that feeling, you let us know, and we’ll make sure you “feel” a new last name before you go out in public.

Cole: Rude. My feelings would be hurt if I didn’t know that I was awesome.

Walker: …

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