Page 64 of Overtime
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Mom asks Liv.
My sister hasn’t said a word to me in days, but she does respond to Mom. “I’ve told you a million times already. I’m fine. I don’t need all of you to guard me like dogs.”
“Of course you do,” Dad says with a gruff voice I inherited. “You and Luz are delicate.”
I wouldn’t exactly use that word for either of them. Stubborn, reckless, and a danger to themselves? Sure.
Olivia rolls her eyes and sags against the chair. I keep stuffing my mouth with food, because anything I say would bring everyone’s bad mood up to my own six.
Mom reaches over and pats my hand with her much smaller one. “I’m so glad we don’t have to worry about you, Aran.” Dad nods in silence to second that.
Right. I’m the solid, dependable one. The one who doesn’t break. The one who doesn’t need anything, ever. I’ve always been proud of being my parents’ most low-maintenance kid. That’s also why I came home for a few days. I knew they’d be too fussy about Olivita to even ask me why I was here. Unlike Archie, who’s tried to corner me before or after every practice, or unlike some of the others, who have been blowing up my phone.
Except being home didn’t dial my shitty mood back to a manageable level. If anything, I feel worse. I don’t want people to fuss over me, but I also don’t want them to pretend I’m okay. I just don’t freaking know what I want.
After breakfast, I toss my duffel bags into the back of my car and slam the door shut. I turn around and almost jump, because Mom stands on the curb beside me, quiet as a ghost.
“Can you take your sister to school this morning?”
I wrinkle my nose. But I note the lack of please and thank you, just as Strawberry would’ve pointed out.
“Why?”
“So you can make up.”
I sigh and run my hand over my head. My hair’s getting longer and my patience is getting shorter.
“Fine.”
She reaches out and instinctively, I lower myself so she can pat my cheek. “Gracias, mijo.”
Nodding, I grab her hand and straighten back up. “I’m not coming back tonight after practice.”
“Good. Go resume your life.” Chuckling, she bundles up into her cardigan. “Then I’ll go back to cooking normal amounts of food, no?”
The sensitive little prick in me is still very much awake, and it takes issue. As if Mom had no right to get used to me being out of the house.
“Chao,” I say, rounding the car and getting into the driver’s seat.
Mom doesn’t take my curt farewell as a big deal. She waves at me and heads back into the house. I hear her muffled voice calling out to Olivia.
I rub my eyes and run my hands up and down my face, wishing it was enough to wash away this embarrassing sentimental loop I’m trapped in. I’ll drop Liv off at school, and that’ll be the end of this episode. And then I have one more to close before I go back to my usual self. Before I can fully focus on hockey and nothing else.
The passenger door opens, and I drop my hands to turn on the vehicle while my little sister buckles up. I do the same and set us in motion.
The radio is off, and neither of us changes its status. We don’t fill the silence with our voices either. Mom’s hopes will be crushed when she realizes two people can’t make up if neither of them thinks they were wrong. Because I sure as hell wasn’t wrong in freaking out. And Liv has said a million times that it was an accident. Which I believe, because she’s the one who stands to suffer the most from deadly food allergies. But it still doesn’t satisfy me.
From the corner of my eye, I see her fold her arms and fix her attention out her window.
“You can’t control everything and everyone around you, Aran. Sometimes things you don’t want will happen, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
The first words to come out of my sister’s mouth that are directed at me stab into my core and make it bleed.
I tighten my hands on the steering wheel. “But sometimes I can.”
“Yeah, this isn’t one of those times. You can’t stop me from getting hurt. And you also can’t go feral if I do.”
I frown. “Is this because I scared Brooklyn off a bit?”
