Page 60 of Escape Velocity
Mason puts his phone in his sweatpants pocket and gets up from his bed. There’s something dangerous yet familiar at the idea of talking to Callum. They aren’t talking to have an argument or to hash things out. They aren’t forcibly speaking for the sake ofThe Goldberg.
They’re just going to try to get on the same page, which hasn’t been the case in nearly four years.
Four years of guessing and wondering how the other is feeling and why they’d become so distant from each other.
How much Mason had wondered why he deserved to be dropped by his best friend, and why it still seems to sting so much so long after the fact.
Mason puts on a sweater and stalks down the stairs to the dining room, where his mom and dad sit at the island, their breakfast completed with remnants scattered across their plates.
“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” his mother says as she smirks at him before taking a final sip of her coffee.
Mason gives her a placating smile. “I never get to sleep in at school, so I took my chance to.”
His mom takes a sip of her coffee. “I thought maybe you were trying to avoid us.”
Mason scoffs and shakes his head as he opens the fridge and takes out the cream.
He pours himself a cup of coffee into his favorite mug and sits down with them.
His dad raises an eyebrow. “Only coffee forbreakfast?”
Mason shrugs. “It’s all I live on. Gotta keep the creative juices flowing somehow.”
He hates how he lies and how good he sounds at it. He’s become a lie; he isn’t even just a liar anymore. His entire life is a lie to his parents, and he’s not sure if he should even feel guilty about it.
“How isThe Goldberggoing? You’re still doing sports I can see,” his mom says, patting a stack of newspapers on the coffee table.
“It’s been going really well.” He takes a sip of his coffee and hopes it will give him some courage.
“It was all they had left, but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t entertaining to write about. It gets a lot of attention, and in the end, I like a lot of eyes on my writing. Everyone wants to read about the team… especially Callum,” Mason says, his voice quieting at the mention of Callum.
His mother nods, her lip jutting out like she’s trying to understand, but she clearly doesn’t. She cares about using her pen as a weapon, and she probably wants Mason to use his writing abilities in the same way.
“But you’re not going to be doing sports forever, right?” she asks, more as a demand than a question.
Mason shrugs. “Considering how much people like what I write, I might get put on something more coveted next year, but I kind of like doing sports in all honesty,” he says, surprised that he’s admitting it to them.
“You do?” his father asks, his eyebrows raised.
Mason nods once, with his mouth forming a thin line.
“I’d prefer you put your writing to good use, Mason. While sports gets a lot of readers, it’s better to have acclaim,” his mother states.
“I know,” Mason says. He already predicted exactlywhat she was going to say two sentences ago. He’s surprised she had enough patience to wait to say it.
“Especially when you have to keep reporting on Callum and how much he wins,” his dad says, rolling his eyes.
Mason sighs and wants to get up and leave. He never expected his own parents to resent the Browns, but after Callum dropped Mason and how cruel Mr. Brown had been to them after Mrs. Brown’s passing, they became protective over him and bitter towards Callum and his family.
It was Mason’s fault for telling them anything; otherwise, he could have lied and said they just grew apart. But he just had to tell them about their drama.
“And how are your classes going?” his mom asks, quickly changing the subject.
Mason twists his mouth. “They’re going well. My classmates treat me a bit differently since I’m the only freshman onThe Goldberg, and they probably don’t like that, but it’s nice to know I have an edge over them. My Modern Physics class is going well too. I have an A+ now and probably will finish the semester with the same,” Mason adds at the end, more to brag for himself, as if his parents would ever care.
His mom furrows her eyebrows at him. “You’re taking physics classes? That’s not part of a journalism degree, is it?”
She asks as if it’s a question, but she knows the answer. She took the same major herself.
