Page 8 of Laugh

Colton is looking through the papers and nodding his head, seemingly motivated and not discouraged by anything she’s saying.

“Okie dokie then! My job here is done.” She claps her hands together then looks at me, finally. “Supersorry for all my flirting and distracting your boys,Coach. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

She salutes me. Again. Then walks away with a verbal mic drop. A well-deserved one, too. I doubt I could have been more insulting, and I briefly debate running after her to apologize.

I lose the opportunity as I watch another group of students call her over almost immediately and start pelting her with questions, forcing her to sit with them so she can give them her full attention.

My eyes jerk over to Antoine when I hear him whistle. He’s not looking at me, but staring at her. “I think I just got a boner. Dude, two years until I graduate, then I’m going after her.” He elbows Tyler, who just laughs.

“Not if I get there first,” says Jeffrey as he leans forward on the table. “Next year’s my last year, fuckers.”

“Enough,” I snap at them. “Come on. Let’s come up with a plan.”

We decide on a basic schedule for how to approach all of this, all four of them entirely focused on the task at hand.

Except for me.

I can’t stop my eyes from wandering around the room every few minutes to search for a ball of messy red hair.

Chapter 4

Oh Captain, My Captain

Haddie

“Hi dad,” I say as I lean down and give him a kiss on the cheek.

Once a day on the weekend we have our family dinner nights. Well, they’resupposedto be family dinner nights, but not everyone comes every week. I do, but that’s only to keep the peace.

“Hey pumpkin! Did you just get here?” He flips his watch around to peek at the time and furrows his brows. “I think Debbie needed some help in the kitchen. Did she not message you to see if you could come a little earlier?”

“She did, but I had some stuff I needed to get done and she didn’t message me until, like, anhourbefore she wanted me here.” She does that all the time. Deborah loves to wait until the last minute to get in contact, knowing good and well that I won’t be able to follow through since I live a solid forty-five minutes from the house. It’s her way of making sure everyone knows that I’m letting them down.

“Oh. Well, I’m sure it’s fine. How was your week?” He mutes the baseball game he was watching as I take a seat next to him on the couch.

“It was good! I was able to–” I’m interrupted by the step-monster yelling from the kitchen.

“Don, honey? Would you call the boys and see what time they’re planning on getting here?” She walks out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Oh. Harriet. You finally made it.”

“Deborah, nice to see you too.” I’m notoverlysarcastic for my dad’s sake, but she hears the slight dig at her failure to act like she’s happy I’m here.

Sighing, she shakes her head at me and rests her hand on dad’s shoulder. “Honestly Harriet, you know I prefer Debbie. Why do you always insist on making a point to not use it?”

Cocking my head at her, I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something snarky. “I just figured you preferred our given names. You know, with you calling me Harriet all the time when you know I prefer Haddie.”

She scoffs. “Harriet is the name your father gave you. You should be proud of it.”

“Seriously? How is that even an–”

“Girls, come on. Let’s not bicker tonight. Everyone is going to be here, so let’s all just enjoy the family time. Yes?”

I watch asDeborahsqueezes his shoulder, signaling what I know was the instruction to ‘talk to her’ before releasing it. “When you’re finished, I need your help in the kitchen, honey.”

Waiting for her to leave, I watch my dad’s shoulders slump slightly as he rubs the space between his eyebrows like he’s getting a headache. “Pumpkin, you’ve got to stop trying to antagonize her. It’s respectful to me as your father, and respectful toheras your stepmother and my wife, to be cordial and polite. Constantly picking fights over–”

“Dad, I’ve gotta stop you right there. You understand that her argument is ridiculous, right? Like, you gave me my name so I need to only go by that, butherparents didn’t give her the name Deborah? Come on, dad.” I really hate arguing with him, but I’m freaking 25-years-old. I don’t need my father scolding me over my bully of a stepmom.

“For me? Please keep the peace? It’s a silly thing to even get worked up over. How about you just call her mom like everyone else?” My eyebrows hit my hairline at that request.

---