Page 7 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“It was just a dislocation.”
Dr. Jones raises his eyebrow. “Just? Are you playing it off because it’s nothing compared to the three times you’ve dislocated your shoulder?”
Mom and Dad come back to my bedside after filling out paperwork at the front desk. I’d breathe a sigh of relief if they hadn’t heard Dr. Jones’s tone.
“Is he ready to go home?” Mom asks Dr. Jones. She clasps her hands in front, bracing herself for a lecture.
Dr. Jones always gives my parents a lecture.
“Yes, he’s all done here. Now, you know the drill,’ Dr. Jones tells my parents, and I detect an undertone of sarcasm to his words. “He can’t get the stitches wet for the first two days, and in two weeks he can come back and get them removed.”
“Yes,” Mom says, nodding as a blush of embarrassment highlights her cheeks. “We’ll make sure he takes care of them.”
Dr. Jones looks back at me. “I don’t need to see you coming back in here, you hear? I don’t miss you.”
I nod, hoping I don’t have to explain that to my parents.
Dad gives me a wary glance, and then thanks Dr. Jones for his help.
When Dr. Jones leaves my bedside, Mom strides closer to me. “What were you thinking?”
I lean away from her. “Mom, chill out.”
“Chill out?“ she echoes. “Look where we are, Malakai.”
I sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I…”
“We don’t need excuses,” Dad cuts in. “We need you to cool it, and stop putting yourself in danger.”
“I don’t,” I argue. “I’m just having fun, and sometimes things go pear-shaped.”
“You’re the reason Jamie’s aunt makes her wear all that safety gear every time she goes to the skatepark with you,” Mom drones on. “Not only Jamie, but all your friends follow you around like you’re a cult leader. For their sake, stop upping the ante every time you hang out with them.”
I roll my eyes hard. “My friends and I are not in a cult. They all have minds of their own. It’s not up to me if they cut their knee or break their arm.”
“But you can control if it happens to you,” Dad says sternly.
Dang, he’s a lot harder to roll my eyes at.
He leans in closer to me. “You need to cut this out, Kai. Your addiction to an adrenaline high gets you in serious trouble. If it doesn’t stop, you can say bye to driving your own car.”
“What?“ I yelp. “You can’t do that. It’s already…”
“The car isn’t leaving the dealership until you turn sixteen. But with one phone call, I can make sure it never ends up in our driveway,” Dad says in a light tone that somehow still sounds firm.
“You can’t be serious.”
“We are more than serious, Kai,” Mom urges. “We don’t want to be back here with you.”
“Yes, I get it.” I sigh. “It’s not like I plan it.”
“You can plan on being safer,” she argues. “Even after your birthday, you can still have your car taken away.”
“I won’t be that stupid.”
“We know that, son,” Dad says, his smile coming back.
“But what if some guy barges into me on the soccer field and knocks me out? It’s not like I can wrap myself in cotton wool every game.”
