Page 11 of Theoretically Straight

“That sounds amazing,” Oliver replies. “We can’t experience the paranormal without filling up on greasy pizza first.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say right before shoving my peanut butter sandwich in my mouth.

“Sounds like a plan,” Harrison says with a clap. “Just the four of us. Theo, can you pick us all up so we can carpool? Save on gas?”

I nod eagerly as I finish my bite of sandwich and swallow. “Of course! It’ll be a tight squeeze, but Eileen is more than capable of handling our load.”

“Theo!” Elise kicks my leg under the table.

Oliver spits out his drink onto the table, cracking into laughter.

Harrison snorts and shakes his head, grinning at me.

I can’t stop smiling. God, I love my friends.

* * *

Bussing tables at Cathy’s after school isn’t my favorite way to spend a Thursday night, but it’s not the worst, either. I’d much rather work a weeknight than a weekend, and fortunately for me, the managers at Cathy’s are more than happy to give those weeknight hours to high schoolers. Weeknights also tend to be pretty slow, so only one person bussing tables is more than enough. While I typically prefer Cathy’s to be at least a little busy because it makes the shift feel shorter, sometimes it’s nice to be paid to stand around doing nothing for a few hours. It gives me time to think, text my friends, or even write or sketch a little bit to pass the time.

But for some reason tonight, I can’t stop thinking about stupid Sienna and her stupid “it’s a date!” text from earlier. I keep opening the message again and again, wondering if I should reply. Should I set the record straight and say something about it? Would saying anything do any good? Does Sienna think there’s a chance we’ll ever get back together? And if she does, am I going to stand up for myself and turn her down? What if Sienna didn’t actually mean anything by it at all? Am I looking too far into things?

With a frustrated sigh, I close the text without saying anything and shove it back into my apron pocket.

“Uh oh,” says a familiar feminine voice from behind me, startling me slightly more than it probably should have. “What was that about?”

Grace is way too perceptive. Annoyingly so. It’s weird working this job with my sister, but at the same time, it’s kind of nice. It’s the only time we ever talk now that she’s at school most of the time.

I turn around to face her and decide to act dumb anyway. “What was what about?”

She raises a darkened eyebrow. “You looked at your phone and very obviously saw something that made you mad.” She stares at me with her thickly lined hazel eyes, then smirks. “Theo, I’m your big sister. I see everything.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “Fine, it was just Sienna being Sienna.”

Grace’s eyes widen, and she leans in. “Ahh. You guys broke up over the summer, though, right? You’re not–”

“Yes, we broke up. No, I’m not still into her. She still wants to be friends, though, and it’s…it’s not really something I want. That’s all.”

Grace purses her lips and raises her eyebrows, looking impressed. “Okay, wow. Yeah, I believe you. Good for you, Theo.”

I eye her suspiciously, but she returns to wrapping silverware. She’s being sincere—she actually believes me, and it feels like she’s going to drop it.

“So,” I start as I move beside her to assist her with her side work. “I heard you and Dad arguing again. Earlier.”

Grace snorts, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, well. At least it wasn’t as bad as Sunday’s fight. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole subdivision heard that one.”

I glance at her again before continuing. “Are you okay?”

She still doesn’t look up from the utensils. “I’m fine. It is what it is. I might have to stay with Chloe on the weekends instead or something. I can’t keep doing this every weekend, but I can’t just quit. I need the money.”

I silently remind myself to tread lightly. “What if you just…went to church?”

Grace bristles beside me.

“Now, hear me out,” I add quickly, raising my hands up defensively. “I know you don’t want to, and it sucks, and it’s stupid. I swear I’m not trying to convince you to go for your soul or anything. I’m just saying–it would make everything easier, right? Just suck it up and waste a few hours of your Sunday to keep the peace? I mean, that’s what I would do if I was in your shoes.”

Grace finally looks up from rolling silverware and stares at me with so much intensity that it makes me squirm. After several agonizing seconds of silence, she finally opens her mouth to speak. “You may be too young now, but at some point, you’re going to face a moment where you have to choose to fight for what matters to you. You won’t want to ‘suck it up’. You won’t want to compromise. You won’t care about keeping the peace. If you believe in something enough, it won’t even be a question in your mind: you’ll fight for it.”

It’s my turn to stare at her, but instead of intense introspection or whatever cryptic crap she has going on, I am completely confused. “So…what does that mean you’re fighting for? The right tonotgo to church?”

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