Page 97 of The Baller

That girl wouldn’t have been pissed at her brother. That girl would have sucked it up and stewed on it for days after. That girl would never have gotten through yesterday alone, she’d have crumbled at the first person she’d met. By the fifth, she’d have been almost catatonic.

But the girl staring back had charmed her way through her mom’s advisors, waved to the press as she’d braved the snow, and sat next to the Poet Laureate over scrambled eggs, for an in-depth discussion on the differences between modern day prose and the Victorian poets. I’d kind of wished I’d had a pen with me.

But my brothers would never understand. Anxiety was a foreign concept to them.

As much as they’d always protected me and fought in my corner, it came from a place of me being their baby sister instead of recognizing my incapacity to do things which they found second nature. Therefore, they would always treat me like a baby sister.

A baby sister who had to do shit they didn’t want to.

Weak.

By the time my coffee finished dripping, I could hear another set of footsteps. Two in fact.

“Look who I found wandering about downstairs,” my dad grinned, one arm around Henry as they stood at the doorway.

Where Ben and I were fairer, like our mom, Henry and my dad were almost carbon copies of each other. Same height, same green eyes, same left-sided dimple and crooked grin, same thick dark brown hair; although my dad’s was starting to lighten with flecks of grey.

Ben pushed his chair back so forcefully it nearly fell to the floor. My dad was hugged first, followed by Henry.

“Did you just get here too?”

“Yeah.”

Henry pushed Ben away and crossed over to where I was standing, pulling me into a bigger and less annoying hug than Ben. “And what about you, Badley Radley?”

“Yesterday,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to be called that,” Ben whispered on his way back to his cereal, and missed the scowl I shot his way.

I put another cup under the coffee machine for my dad. Ben’s hand shot in the air like I was wait staff. “Badass, two more coffees over here.”

“Where’s Mom?” I asked, dropping my head onto my dad’s shoulder.

“In the Situation Room, she’ll be up soon.”

“Is everyone going home now?”

He nodded. “Most of the administration staff will be gone by two. Anyone involved with the charity dinner tonight will still be here.”

“Cool,” I replied, suddenly overcome with weariness at the thought of speaking to more people.

It was probably because my brothers had bounced in here like they’d been existing on sugar for the last week. Always ready to prove my point, Henry glanced up from his cell screen and pumped his fists in the air.

“Whoop. Only twenty-four hours until kick off. Eagles baby! We are going to kick some Dallas ass tomorrow.”

Ben slapped his hand for a high-five and a hollered, “Hell, yeah!”

“Do I hear football talk?”

We all turned around to see my mom at the door, looking way more statuesque and presidential than her five feet three inches would normally allow.

“Yeah, Mom,” Ben answered as he jumped up and lifted her in the same hug he gave me. “We’re gonna kick ass tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we are, but can you put me down?” Her blonde bob brushed along the lapels of her slate grey blazer as her feet were placed on the floor again. She walked around the boys and straight up to me. “Hi, sweetie, did you have a good morning? Senator Pierce said she had fun catching up with you.”

“Yeah, Mom, it’s been fine,” I smiled.

“Good.” She turned to kiss Henry, and after a second glance at Ben and the mess he’d made at the table, she stood next to my dad. “Nice of you boys to show up. How was your trip?”

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