Page 52 of Playing Rucking Hard

“That all?” Allyson shares a look with Sage who is now sitting cross-legged on the couch, fully recovered from her meltdown.Could laughter be the best medicine? I’m not putting on a comedy routine at two am. Not even for my sister.“Sage is too polite to ask, but enquiring minds need to know more about Mr. Perfect.”

“It’s new and I don’t even know if it is going anywhere.”

“You wanted me to stay the night with Sage,” Allyson laughs. “I think we all know where you wanted this date to go.”

“I’m here now.” Carefully, I open Sage’s swim bag. It’s the same bag she used for meets since she was six or seven. Most sports people have superstitions, and this tatty teal blue bag is Sage’s. “Got your new goggles, bathers, motivational playlist?”

Sage blinks and tears start again. “What? I can’t help you if you don’t let me.” See—I didn’t ask Sage to talk to me. I’m trying to meet her on her terms.

She points to the side pocket.

Oh … I get it. How could I forget? It’s like I’m hearing the news for the first time.“I’m sorry, we’ve had a call from Australia. There was a car accident …”

Before any dance recital, competition, swim meet, or school exam, our mother would handwrite us a note. Is that why Dylan’s swans mean so much? Emails are impersonal, texts are impulsive, but his handwritten notes take planning and thought.

“Sagie, Sagie, Sagie.” I pull my sister into a hug. “I wasn’t going to give you my note until tomorrow.”

My sister grins at me through her tears. At least her meltdown is slowing down. I don’t know how she’ll react to happy memories, but I’m willing to try.

“Remember the time mum put my note for dance in your bag and I got her note for your math exam?” I turn to face Allyson because Sage already knows the story. “Sage got the whole ‘you are beautiful inside and out, break a leg’, which wasn’t what she needed for a math exam. I got the ‘when you don’t know the answer, trust yourself and you’ll never go wrong’.” I can laugh now, even though I hadn’t been laughing when I read it. “I mean, trusting myself in dance can work, but it took weeks before we realized we got the wrong notes.”

Pressing my lips to Sage’s forehead, I stand. “I was going to sneak it into your bag tomorrow morning and surprise you, but I guess you have to ruin ev…er…y…thing.” I draw out the last word in exaggerated frustration—she is still my bratty sister. Meanwhile, I try to think of something to write. Do I go heartfelt and emotional? Or do I try motivational?

I head to my bedroom and the secret stash of black origami dragons of differing sizes. Yes, I made them for Dylan, but I hopehe’d understand if I use one for Sage. And if not, he’s not the man for me.

What to write?

Sweet Thyme. You might have everyone else fooled, but I know beneath your sweet and silent exterior is the heart of a dragon, the fire of a dragon, and the fight to win of a dragon. I’ll be the embarrassing sister cheering you on. E

I place the dragon in an envelope and tape all sides so it will take a supreme effort to open it. Handing it over with a smile, I give Sage a sisterly smirk, “Try not to read it until tomorrow.” To Allyson, I say, “Since it’s still early, how about a board game?”

“Being paid to play games?” Allyson jumps up and heads to the kitchen. “Popcorn’s on me.”

Chapter 18

Little Squid

Dylan

“Is dad coming?” Squid asks as we arrive at the indoor swimming center for the intra-school swim meet.

I could say with total honesty, “if he was here, I wouldn’t be,” but Squid doesn’t need to know my relationship with our father deteriorated to negative after our last conversation.Fucking Fleski, as I prefer to think of him, wants me to pay off his latest gambling debt. I agreed, conditional onSquid coming to live with me full-time. I offered to cover all of Squid’s expenses from the sports high school he wants, to fund college wherever he wants to go, and even a car as soon as he has a license.

No. That’s not enough.Fucking Fleskistill wants me to pay him for the privilege of raising my brother. I want him to pay—but in blood. The same currency he made my mother use.

“Don’t think so Little Squid,” I say, ruffling his hair in the way that he found cute when he was six. At twelve, not so much.

“Seriously, don’t call me that. People think I’m normal.” He quickly looks around for witnesses. “My friends think my name is Saxon.”

“I can easily correct that,” I say with a laugh. I don’t know when I came up with Squid, but it stuck.

“Don’t …” He looks around again and lowers his voice. “And there’s a girl. So don’t make it weird.”

“A girl?” Oh, this is priceless, and it takes all my self-control not to embarrass both of us by snort laughing. “We must be brothers.” Although I hadn’t grown into my looks or league prowess at twelve, and girls were still an unknown species. “Does she have a name?”

“Her name’s Sage. She’s … kind of epic.”

“Gorgeous?”

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