Page 17 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“Let him have books?” Mom mimics me in a mocking tone. “What? You mean in his bedroom? Can you stop complaining and have a glass of OJ or something?”
I groan. “I don’t want OJ. I want to be at the field.”
“It’s not even a legit practice,” Mom says, flapping a hand at me.
“So?” I question, broadening my shoulders. “Are you saying I shouldn’t take soccer practice seriously?”
Mom huffs. “No, of course not. But your stitches are still fresh. Shouldn’t you be sitting this one out?”
“Coach Lyle is especially meeting with me and Tyler this morning. If I don’t show, he’ll probably bench me.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing after your recent injury.”
I glare at her, too appalled to respond.
Knowing it’s useless to argue with me about soccer, she sighs and shoos me out of the doorway. “Okay, I’ll call your brother downstairs.”
“Can’t you take him to school later?”
“I’m not making two trips. You go to the same school for goodness’ sake.”
“But you heard him last night. He doesn’t want to go to school this early.” I grab onto her arm. “But I do. So can we go? Please?”
“Stop annoying me.” She frees her arm from her grip. “Milo, we’re going! Come downstairs!”
I tap my sneaker against the timber floor, waiting to be proven correct about my brother.
“He’s not gonna show,” I mutter under my breath.
“Shush,“ Mom whispers, not wanting to be proven wrong about him. “Milo!”
“What!” Milo yells, hanging over the top landing banister.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” Mom calls back with hands on hips. “We discussed this last night. You’re going to school early this morning.”
“Why?” Milo throws an arm in my direction. “Becausehewants to?”
“Yes,” Mom replies matter-of-factly. “You told me you’re reading for an assignment. Well, guess what? You can do that in the school library.”
“He just went to the hospital for a really stupid reason. Why does he call the shots?”
“He doesn’t,” Mom says bluntly. “I do.”
Milo huffs, pushing off the banister and disappearing out of view. “Fine.”
I gesture at the top floor. “He’s not even dressed yet.”
Mom waves me off. “He’s only missing his tie and blazer. He can get himself dressed on the way downstairs.”
I deadpan at her back as she moves further into the open-plan living area. “Mom, this is Milo we’re talking about.”
She halts, hesitating as she turns back to me. “Mmm. You’d better go upstairs and help him hurry up.”
I point at my chest. “Me?”
“Do you want to get to the soccer field?” Her stare hardens. “And I also hope you don’t want your brother tripping down the stairs.”
I sigh and make my way to the staircase. “No. That’ll only make my morning take longer.”
