Page 14 of Dating and Dragons

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Just wanted to come say hi. What are you working on?”

They lift the crochet project slightly. “My latest hat. I’vebecome a bit obsessed with making them—I love crocheting. It’s very relaxing.”

“That’s cool. I’ve never tried it before, but I love making jewelry.” I shake my wrist so that my five beaded bracelets clink together. “I also get a little obsessed.”

Sloane nods approvingly. “At least the stuff you make is small enough it’s easy to store. I’ve got an enormous pile of hats in my room, and an even bigger pile of yarn. I don’t know what I’ll do with them. I need three more heads to wear them all.”

“I’d take one,” I blurt out, and then immediately regret it. What am I doing, asking for people’s stuff? It’s not like Sloane and I are close. “I mean, not that you need to give me one or anything. But I’d buy one from you if you’re willing to sell them.”

Sloane balks. “You don’t need to give me any money. I’m happy to give you one—I figured no one would want my wonky little hats.”

“If you didn’t notice, it’s freezing today.” I gesture to the classroom window, where frost has formed on the inside—not a great sign. “I’d happily wear one.”

I shift to the side as a few students push around me to get to their seats. It’s clear from the noise and shuffling that class is about to start. Sloane shoves their yarn and hook back in their bag.

“I’ll bring some to the game Saturday and you can choose one, okay?”

“Awesome!”

It’s small, this conversation with Sloane, but it’s something.Already I feel a little lighter today. Not everyone in this classroom is a stranger now.

On Saturday, I pile into the back seat of our SUV next to Andrew and his smelly bags of soccer stuff. I wish I could drive myself to the game, but my parents are getting the tires replaced on the other car, so I’m stuck back here. Mom’s driving, her usual travel mug filled with coffee even though it’s one-thirty in the afternoon.

“All right, listen up before I lose you to your phones,” Dad calls from the passenger seat. “We need to talk about something.”

I glance at Andrew nervously but he’s already scrolling through his phone. I elbow him. “Dad’s talking.”

“What?”

“Grandma fell last night,” Dad replies solemnly. There are bags under his eyes and his button-up is wrinkly. I noticed both Mom and Dad were quiet and exhausted this morning, but I figured it was just the stress of the move getting to them.

“Oh my god, is she okay?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“She’s fine now. And Mom and I wanted to talk about some things first,” Dad says, and pauses to glance at Mom. She gives the smallest nod, as if giving him permission. “We think Grandma’s getting too old to live by herself.”

“Wait, are you going to move her into our house andmake me and Quinn share a bedroom?” Andrew asks. “Because I can barely sit next to her on a short drive.”

“I’d rather live in the basement with the spiders than sleep next to you.”

“Stop. I don’t have the energy today,” Mom warns, glaring at us in the rearview mirror.

Guilt lodges in my ribs. She does sound especially tired—I’m not sure she’s even remembered to brush her hair.

“No, we aren’t moving her into our house. That wouldn’t help, since all of our bedrooms are on the second floor and we’re trying to get her away from stairs. We’re thinking a retirement community would be good. It wasn’t a bad fall this time, but we might not be that lucky in the future.”

I snort. Grandma move into a retirement home? With her piles of stuff and social schedule? I can’t imagine her living somewhere with mashed potatoes and removable teeth.

“No way. She’ll flip when she hears,” Andrew argues.

“Actually, for once I agree with Andrew.”

“You two aren’t being supportive at all,” Mom complains. She pats Dad on the leg. “We need to be united as a family throughout this to support your father. This isn’t going to be an easy time for anyone.”

“I’m on Grandma’s side on this one. Plus, my birthday is coming up, so I have to keep my priorities in mind.” Andrew grabs his bag from the floor of the SUV. “Right up there.” He points to the sidewalk outside the recreational center where his league has their winter practices and games.

Mom pulls over with a sigh, and Andrew climbs over me.

“We aren’t finished talking about this,” Dad calls out the door. But I’m sure we are. They hardly ever make Andrew dosomething he doesn’t want to do. Andrew holds up a hand to say goodbye.

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