seven
Evan
“How you doing?”
I pop my head into the screen for a second so my sister can see me. Shelli is lying back in her bed, a bowl of ice cream on her growing stomach. Since I’m getting ready for my introduction to the Bullies’ gymnastics team, in my crisp khaki pants my mom got me, I have my phone propped up. Mom also ironed my pants for me, so I look super professional. But if you ask Owen, I’m spoiled. I might be. As I grab my team shirt to throw it on, I have only my head in the screen since I don’t think my sister wants to see me changing.
“I’m okay. Tired. Ready for this kid to come.”
I nod as I take her in. She’s huge and swollen, but she’s smiling. “I bet. You look great. Glowing, really.”
“Aiden washed my hair for me. He’s a doll.”
“Got the golden egg with that one,” I say, grinning at her. “Have the doctors given you an ETA?”
She shakes her head, visibly frustrated. “Not at all. I’m not even showing any signs of this kid wanting to come out. Do you know how hard it is to walk in heels being this big? I want video evidence that Mom did it when she was pregnant with us, because it fucking hurts.”
I snort. “I heard when she was pregnant with us, she went on the ice in heels.”
“She’s not even human.”
“Agreed. She ironed my pants for me,” I say, showing her my outfit.
“Spoiled rotten!” she teases. “Though, she did come and paint my toenails for me with Zac on her back.”
Together, we shake our heads in awe of our mother before saying, “Superwoman.”
We share a grin, and then she asks, “You excited for your first day?”
“I am,” I say, sitting down and holding the phone out. “I had therapy this morning. It’s in the autism building on campus. I like my therapist. She and Angie are friends.”
“Fantastic. It’s Kayla Shaw, right?”
“How did you know that?” I ask, bringing in my brows.
“I know everything,” she laughs. “No, I got her number from Angie. Kayla wants to develop a program here like the IceCats have.”
“That’s awesome.”
“I know,” she agrees. “Hey, she’s super pretty. You should holler at her.”
I give her a dry look. “Yes, I’ll sleep with my therapist, the one who knows I hate myself.”
She mirrors my look. “Ev, come on. Don’t feel that way.”
“I wish it were that easy,” I admit. “I’m getting better. Dad cornered me.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh God, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It helped. It did. He said everything I was thinking.”
“Ah, okay. Do you feel better?”
“Eh, maybe not better, but not dwelling, if that even makes sense.”
“It does,” she says like a promise. “You know we’re all here for you.”
“Absolutely, I know.”
“And you know you’re my favorite.”
I laugh. “I know. Thanks.”
“Always! Isn’t the autism facility gorgeous? I heard Nico Merryweather is funding it.”
“I heard that too,” I add with a nod. “It’s a great building. They need volunteers, from what Kayla was saying. I offered to play music for them.”
“Oh, Evan! I love that idea,” she gushes.
“Yeah, we’ll see if it works out,” I say, and then I laugh. “I had a weird encounter.”
She raises a brow. “Encounter?”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing again. “I pushed the front door open at the same time this girl was pulling it open, and we ran right into each other. I apologized, of course. But then she wouldn’t say anything, just kept repeating what I said. It was weird, and then—” I snort with laughter at this point. “She turns around, goes in, and face-plants on the floor. It was hilarious, but I felt bad because I had to go and I couldn’t go in and help, not that I think she wanted me to.”
Her laughter makes her belly jiggle, almost knocking the bowl off her stomach. “Aw, if you find her and she knows how to speak, that can be y’all’s little meet-cute!”
I furrow my brow. “Meet-cute?”