Yeah, Amelia is wrong. I know she is.
On my goal sheet that is currently only in my head right now, right under make Aviva believe me, is prove Amelia wrong.
And I will.
* * *
The parking lot of Willz Sub Shop is packed. It could be the overflow from the gymnastics parking lot, but it seems the shop is busy as all get-out. I park my rented Ford truck between GymMasters and the shop before getting out. Amelia has tried apologizing a billion times since earlier, but what she doesn’t know is I thrive on being doubted. She thinks I’m self-absorbed? Fine. I’ll prove I’m not by bringing her dinner every night, and I’ll get to see Aviva. Two goals, one puck. Let’s go. I want to bang on my chest, not for the manly exhibition but more to try to beat the anxiety out of me. Not sure. But before I can explore that, the door to Willz flies open, and a pint-sized girl yells back inside.
“You’re ridiculous! We could get this done in five, and now it’s gonna take you twenty!”
“Your job is not this place, Calliope! Your job is school! Get to work!”
Well, I know for a fact that the voice yelling back is Aviva.
The girl slams the door shut and sits at the table by the entrance, opening her book as she lets out a huff. She looks up at me, and wow, she’s the spitting image of her sister. Only difference is she’s miniature. “Take a picture, bruh. It’ll last longer. Though, I am only sixteen and it could be considered child porn or something like that, and I’ll turn your ass in.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “You must be Aviva’s little sister.”
She raises her brows. “Who are you?”
“The guy she hit today.”
She nods. “Ah, yeah. Hot guy with the red sports car.”
I grin. “She said I was hot?”
“She did, and I hope that embarrasses her.” She lets out another huff before opening her notebook. “She’s impossible. We have a rush, and I can help. But no, I gotta work on stupid angles.”
I peek inside the shop, and yeah, it’s packed. I want to help Aviva, even though she looks like she can do this with her hands tied behind her back. “I think she’s got this.”
“Of course she does. Aviva has everything,” she mumbles as she presses her fingers to her temple. “Meanwhile, I have no clue how to do this.”
I look down at the book, and then I find myself sitting down. “I love this stuff. Angles are my jam.”
She gives me a weird look. “Angles are your jam?”
“Yeah. Did you know in a triangle, the largest angle is opposite the longest side, and the smallest angle is opposite the shortest side?”
She blinks. “I think my teacher may have said that.”
“And then in an isosceles triangle, where two sides are equal, the angles opposite the equal sides are equal. In an equilateral triangle, where all sides are equal, the angles are all 60 degrees. That shit is so cool. It’s like when I’m blocking a puck. The angle I turn—or throw out my leg or glove—makes it so the puck can be caught because of that angle. It’s actually really interesting,” I say quickly, turning her book so I can see it. “And then here, a 180-degree angle. You do that in a leap, right?” She looks from me to the book. Then she nods. “And you know how that feels and looks?”
“Yes!”
I can see the pieces clicking and the excitement building. She’s figuring this out. I wish everyone had the teacher I had. She made sure to put real life into my studies so I could understand. Reason number two million why my mom is the best.
“So, when you get this problem and it equals this,” I say as I draw out the problem and then the answer. “You know what the answer looks like ’cause you’re in this position. Right?”
The biggest, brightest grin covers her little face. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Anytime. I love math. I was able to connect to it. Really understand it. It was fun for me.”
“Well, I hate it, but maybe I can convince you to stick around and help me out. I have free subs.”
I laugh as I nod. “How about a date with your sister? Do you have that?”
The hysterical laugh that comes out of this little person is a bit troubling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone laugh so hard. “Aviva? Aviva doesn’t date. Free subs. I have subs, not a date.”
“She doesn’t date? Everyone dates.”
Callie lets out a long breath. “Not my sister.”
“Maybe I can change that?”
Her eyes light up, making her look like a little doll. “Please let me watch.”
“The date?” I ask, confused, and she laughs.
“No, you asking, ’cause I’m sure it’s gonna be awesome.”