Page 23 of It's in the Contract
“That’s rough. I’m so sorry.” I set my backpack down on the floor. “What are you going to do?”
Zeke shakes his head. “I don’t know, but Ican’tlose my gaming systems. They are how I make my YouTube videos. If I can’t keep making content, I’ll lose subscribers. And I . . . I love it. I don’t want to stop making content.”
“I completely get it. It’s hard when parents want to control every aspect of your life,” I say, bitterness leaking into my voice.
“I don’t know if it’s that.” Zeke gathers up the papers on the gaming table to clear some space, shuffling them into aneat stack. “Mom and Dad care, I know. I just wish they would understand that I can’t go through that hurt again. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Zeke pulls a Dungeons and Dragons box off his shelf and starts putting away the figurines. I join in to help, though I feel a bit bad that he has to clear away this intricate set up for me. “Bleh. That really sucks,” I say. “I wish I could help.”
“Thanks, Callie.”
I take a seat at the now cleared table. “Well, we should probably start on my homework.”
Zeke palms his forehead. “Sorry. Yeah.”
“My mom will roast me over the coals if I come home with nothing done.”
Mia dances past the open door chanting, “Get roasted. Get roasted.”
Caroline’s voice calls out, “Mia! We do not say, ‘get roasted.’ Can you imagine Jesus saying to Peter, ‘Get roasted, get roasted’?”
I cover my mouth to hold in a laugh while Zeke hurries to close the door. He sits next to me at the table, and we immerse ourselves in Chemistry, History, and English.
Caroline brings us a plate of non-burnt cookies about an hour into our study session. I take one to be polite and try a bite. I taste cinnamon, pecan, and brown sugar. “Mmmm.”
Caroline smiles. “You like them?”
“These are definitely bake sale worthy.”
Zeke gives Caroline a thumbs up. “These are your best batch yet.”
She sighs. “The church is asking for a whole lot more than these, though. They want variety. This is the biggest fundraiser of the year, and we’re short-handed. You sure you don’t want to help out, Callie?” She smiles. “I get the feeling that you know your way around the kitchen.”
My first inclination is to help her. When I see a problem, I want to fix it. “I wish I could,” I say, fighting the urge. “But really, you don’t want me in the kitchen. I’m hopeless.” I laugh awkwardly, not quite knowing why I said what I did. Maybe I’m ashamed of my hobby. Maybe I can only see Mom’s disapproving frown when I think about it.
“Let me know if you change your mind, honey.” Caroline leaves the plate of cookies dangerously close to me and exits the room.
I push the plate toward Zeke. “Get these away from me.”
He laughs and removes the plate from the table. We’re bending over another organic chemistry problem when I say, “Zeke, why don’t you make some friends? I know it’s hard, but, losing your gaming systems is hard, too, right?”
Zeke sighs and closes the book. “I guess we’re done for the day.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your business.”
Zeke looks alarmed. “No, Callie. You’re fine. Our time is almost up, anyway.”
I start putting my stuff away, and I think that maybe he’s going to dodge my question, when he says, “We’re three weeks into school now and Mom and Dad haven’t seen me bring a single person over to hang out.” He glances up, briefly meeting my eyes. “Until you.”
I smile slightly.
“I sit in here and game after I finish my homework. They’re worried. They don’t understand why I can’t . . . I can’t do that again.”
“Why?” I can’t imagine why anyone would choose to sit at lunch alone day after day. People are already whispering about him. “You’re sweet and fun to be with.” My cheeks heat. Why is it that around Zeke my social filter seems to die? I end up sayingwhatever comes to my brain without thinking it through. “You should have no problem making friends.”
Zeke smiles. “Thank you.” He takes my chem book and somehow finds space for it in my full backpack. “But . . . I’ve been hurt before. We’ve moved so much in my life with my dad’s job, and I’ve made friends, even though it’s not easy, starting over every year or two. I’ve been promised time after time that people will keep in touch, and they never do. So now I have an arsenal of wishy-washy Facebook friends, people who say they won’t forget about me, but they always do. I’m tired of being let down.”
I look at Zeke with wide eyes, at the hurt flickering across his face, and my heart squeezes. “I’m so sorry that’s happened to you.”
