Page 237 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“No,” I blurt. “I was fine. I kept playing.”
Dr. Jones leans back. “Mm-hmm.”
Tabby clears her throat, glaring at her brother. “Thanks for that, Fred.”
You almost can’t be mad at Freddy when he shines that charismatic smile your way. “I was trying to help.”
“We’ll all go tomorrow,” Mrs. Jones says giddily. “It’ll be fun.”
“I’ll go,” Corbin pipes up, extremely animated in all-blue. “They wouldn’t let me last time.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Freddy deflects.
“Again.” Tabby sighs. “Thanks.”
“Drew?” Mrs. Jones asks her son. “You’ll go too?”
Drew sneezes and then shrugs. “Pass.”
His mom huffs. “It’s not like he meant to give you allergies.”
Drew rubs his nose, muttering, “I don’t care about that.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to spend a morning on the sidelines and support someone,” his mom continues. “Okay, you say you’re over football. But soccer isn’t football.” Mrs. Jones catches herself and sends an apologetic look my way. “Oops. Sorry, Kai.”
“Don’t mention it,” I mumble, hoping to deflect the attention away from me.
“Just where were you tonight?” Dr. Jones asks Drew. “What was more important than supporting your brother?”
Drew grunts. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Dad,” Freddy says in a low voice. “It’s cool. I don’t mind if Drew skips my games.”
“Not the point.” Dr. Jones lands a fist on the tabletop. “I mind.”
A gust of awkward silence sweeps across the table. I fidget in my seat, and underneath the table, Tabby and I clutch hands.
No wonder her home life drives her insane. My dad would never create a scene like this in public. Yeah, my mom might raise an octave or two, but I definitely provoke her into it. But this. Dr. Jones set this up on his own.
The large share plates are nearly empty when Tabitha whispers to me, she needs to go to the ladies’ room. I nod, hoping a few minutes without her by my side won’t end in Dr. Jones nailing me to the wall.
Tabitha excuses herself, and then Corbin announces he needs to go as well.
Mrs. Jones groans, getting up from her seat. “Why didn’t you go with your sister?”
“She wouldn’t have taken me,” Corbin complains. “She always says I’m too big to hold hands.”
Mrs. Jones gestures for him to follow her, but stops short. “Oh, Andrew, look. Bill and Susan are here.”
Dr. Jones tosses his napkin onto the table and turns in his seat. “Well, I’ll be. I haven’t seen Bill in ages.”
Dr. Jones leaves the table as well, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
I’m not the only one. Both Drew and Freddy relax in their seats.
I lift my chopsticks, ready to dig them into my noodle dish, when something smacks into the side of my face.
“Ow!” I complain. “What the hell?”
