What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?
So, I might as well tell you this: my dad doesn’t want me dating.
Ever.
It’s like I mentioned before, he wants me to focus solely on hockey, which I’ve always done. An occasional lay on the side is fine, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my game and he doesn’t have to see or hear about it. You know what they say: out of sight, out of mind.
Having someone steady or an actual girlfriend?
Not on the list of priorities he’s made for me.
So, yeah. It’s obvious that he’s not pleased, and he’s acting like someone pissed in his Cheerios.
Suddenly, the gender roles are reversed, and Molly has become the proverbial guy every dad dreads and waits for on their front porch while polishing their shotguns. Thankfully, my mom crosses the room and lays her hand on my dad’s arm. I consider this his warning. Mom is the only person who can calm my dad the fuck down.
“Would you kids like to sit? Let’s go into the living room.”
We follow my parents into the living room, and much to my horror, Kendall is perched on the end of the couch with her giant, fat tabby cat Jazzy in her lap, and instead of tuning in to the television, she’s watching us with a smirk on her face.
For an eleven-year-old, she acts like a nosey teenager, and up until right this second, it’s never really bothered me. At this particular moment, she is bugging the living shit out of me.
Even her damn cat seems like a cocky little asshole.
My mom motions for us to sit on the couch. Just to be on the safe side, I sit directly next to Kendall. I have a feeling she’s going to be like a loose cannon, and those lips aren’t going to stay closed for very long. Eventually she’s going to want to get her two cents in.
Warily, I watch her from the corner of my eye as Dad sits directly across from us in his favorite leather chair. Leaning forward, he clasps his hands in front of him and props his elbow on his knees. I can hear him thinking from across the room.
My mom clears her throat and plasters her trademark optimistic smile on her face.
Could this be any more awkward?
CHAPTER 24
MOLLY
“Awkward? That’s an understatement.”
– Molly
* * *
Can someone tell me again why I’m here?
Mr. McGrath, with his big brooding stare, is watching me from his seat—a big leather La-Z-Boy recliner that looks like it has seen better days. I would even bet money that Weston’s mom has tried to toss it to the curb a few times.
It looks like Mrs. McGrath—Laura—is about to say something, but Kendall interrupts.
“So, Molly, what grade are you in? Are you a senior too?” She sits innocently, watching me with big doe eyes, her hand lazily stroking the orange cat that’s sleeping on her lap.
“Yes, I’m a senior too. How about you? What grade are you in, Kendall?”
She perks up with importance. “I’m in middle school this year,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Sixth grade. Did you have Mrs. Deerfield for any classes when you were my age?”
“You know, I think I did! She was one of my favorites.” I smile shyly as Kendall nods her head enthusiastically.
“Her class is my favorite, but I have this kid, Ben, who sits behind me, and he’s always pulling my hair. Last week I finally told him if he didn’t stop, my brother would jam a hockey stick so far up his ass he wouldn’t walk for a week.”
To illustrate her point, Kendall takes her fist and pretends to jam it in the air.
“Kendall!” Weston’s mom shrieks loudly, her horrified voice vibrating through the cavernous family room. “What did I tell you about using that word? Where on Earth did you learn to say things like that?”
Slowly, all our eyes move to Weston, who is suddenly fidgeting in his seat. He curls his lips in a scowl and throws his hands up. “Fine! It was me! Someone needed to teach her to defend herself!”
Mrs. McGrath is bright red. “That is not teaching her how to defend herself, young man. That’s threatening another person with bodily harm—and a child no less! Telling your sister you’ll shove a hockey stick up someone’s bum, indeed!”
“Bum,” Kendall mutters sassily, breaking the awkward silence that followed Mrs. McGraths shocked outburst. “So, Molly, is my brother as cool at school as he thinks he is?”
“Mom, please make her stop.”
“Come on, I need to know! He walks around here like he owns the place. I’m not even allowed in his room without permission,” Kendall huffs with a pout.
“Well, no kidding. The last time you went in there you let Jazzy sleep in my sock drawer while you used all my printer paper to make snowflakes. There were tiny scraps of paper everywhere for weeks.”