Page 58 of We Shouldn't Be Together
I keep refreshing the app.
I’m so screwed.
Finally, a reply flashes across my screen."Okay, deal."
With an exhausted exhale, I flop onto the couch.
Of course, she’d have me squirming.
I hit play on the podcast and force myself to forget the airhead with the pouty lips.
12
“Iwasthinkingofsending Mrs. Field an email,” Mom says over breakfast.
I drop my spoon into my cereal bowl with a clang. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“To check if you’ve made any improvement.”
“Didn’t you hear Freddy last night? He literally dropped me off to study with my new lab partner.”
Mom smiles. “And I think it’s great you’re taking more of an interest. But your brothers aren’t by your side in class.”
I groan at her. “It’s never enough for you, is it? Why can’t you just be happy I studied?”
A pang of guilt surges through my chest.
Drew did my homework again.
Mom shrugs, reading her tablet. “Seeing as it’s Friday, I’ll leave it until next week to get in touch with her. If there’s an improvement, it should be noticeable by then.”
“If?” I echo, the hurt building inside me as I excuse myself from the table. “If. You have zero faith in me.”
I dump my bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink and storm toward my bedroom. As I enter the hallway, I screech to a halt.
“I didn’t raise a quitter!” Dad yells from Drew’s bedroom.
Crap.
A pit grows in my stomach as I listen for Drew’s response.
The pit grows larger when there isn’t one.
“That’s it, is it?” Dad bellows. “You’ll just sit there and let your potential rot? You’re a joke, Andrew.”
It’s always such a sore spot when Dad calls him Andrew. Dad named Drew after himself, wanting his first born to take on his legacy. Mom once told me Dad would dream of having Dr. Andrew Jones Jr. working beside him at the hospital. Nowadays, Drew does anything to be the opposite of Dad’s image.
In elementary school, Drew used to go by AJ. Around the time Corbin was born, Drew had a meltdown and said he didn’t want to go by that nickname anymore. Even at ten-years-old, Drew's animosity with Dad was palpable. I didn’t really see it back then, but it’s clear to me now. Dad has always favored Freddy. They’re the only two in the family with those piercing blue eyes and an insatiable drive to succeed.
I know Dad gets so frustrated with Drew because he’s smart enough to become a doctor. They both will never admit how truly alike they are. Let’s face it. Drew isn’t applying himself because he’s frustrated with Dad.
In the hallway, Freddy emerges from Corbin’s bedroom.
I clutch my elbows. “What are you doing?”
“I was helping Corby with his shoelaces,” Freddy explains. “Once the yelling started, I covered his ears.”
Corbin wanders out of his room at the same time Dad storms out of Drew’s.
