Page 94 of The Substitute
“What the hell was that?” Teddy knife hands toward the TV. “It was clear as blue where that was going! Open your eyeballs, dude!”
“Clear as blue?” Ambrose asks, and they all turn to look at us.
“Day. Clear as day,” I sigh, then I look at him, too. “With as much time as you spend at practice, how have you not learned to speak dumbass?”
“Don’t call your brother a dumbass,” Dad scolds.
“Technically, I said he speaks dumbass, not that he is one.”
Ambrose knocks his shoulder against my back. “Be nice.”
“You are not one to talk about being nice to one’s brother,” I shoot back.
“Step-brothers are different.”
“You look familiar. Do I know you?” Teddy looks as confused as I feel.
“Uh, what?” Ambrose cocks his head, blinking at my brother. “Is he serious?”
“I know we’ve met somewhere before…” Teddy puts his hands on his hips. “But I can’t place you. Do you take yogurt classes?”
“You don’t take yoga,” Rhys mutters.
“I did that one time—I nearly got locked into pretzel shape and died!”
“Right, I forgot.” Rhys flashes me a look, but I ignore it.
“So I could know him from that…” He gets up and holds out his hand. “I’m Teddy.”
“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.” Ambrose takes his hand, looking at me like I’d know what the fuck is going on with Teddy.
Rhys glances back and forth between the two, also confused.
“What’s your name? Maybe that will trigger the skull jello.” He aggressively shakes Ambrose’s hand.
“Are you serious? I’m literally your hockey captain. We’ve been sharing a hotel room all season!” Ambrose rips his hand back and then crosses his arms.
Teddy blinks, and I half-think he’s resetting his brain or something before it finally seems to dawn on him. “Brosey? Really?” Teddy bends down to get right in Ambrose’s face. “Did you do something different? Cut your hair? Did you get contacts or something?”
Ambrose looks at me like he can’t believe this is happening. “You see me, right? I’m not hallucinating?”
I laugh. “I definitely see you.”
“Wait,” Rhys interjects, showing Teddy something on the screen of his phone. “You really don’t recognize a player on your own team?”
Is he showing Teddy his own team roster?
Ambrose pats his pockets until he finds whatever he’s looking for and pulls out his keys, holding them up to show Teddy. On his key ring is what looks like a white gummy bear.
What the fuck is that?
Teddy reacts like it’s some secret identifier and wraps Ambrose up in an aggressive hug. “Brosey!” Teddy yells. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
“How do you not recognize him?” I ask, needing fucking answers. “You spend hours with him, almost daily.”
Teddy acts like I’m the one not getting it. “I don’t recognize him without his hockey stuff on!”
“You’ve literally roomed with me for away games the whole season. I don’t have hockey stuff on when we travel or in the hotel room,” Ambrose says into Teddy’s shoulder, which is covering his mouth.
