Mom shufflesinto the kitchen and comes back, placing a cake plate on the table. She lifts the glass dome to reveal a chocolate cake withCongratulations, Ian!written in maroon frosting on top.
I’m smiling, but I have to ask. “Mom, how did you know? They only give out two scholarships. What if I hadn’t gotten lucky?”
She scoffs.“Luck has nothing to do with it, Ian. They’re the lucky ones. Besides, if they’d made the wrong decision, I have a backup cake.” She walks back into the kitchen and comes back in with yet another cake plate. She lifts the dome to reveal a white cake with frosting that readsF*ck those Bastards.“But my faith in you never wavered,” she says. “The congratulations cake is chocolate, your favorite. The bastard cake is vanilla. Your brothers like that one best.”
She’s not wrong,as evidenced by the fact that Luke is digging right into the vanilla cake with his fork. He hasn't even bothered to cut himself a slice.
I’m lucky,and I know it. My family may be a little nuts, but they love me. In less than a year, I’ll be living in the city and attending Bainbridge University. I’ll miss this place and these people, but the future looks very bright.
* * *
Booker
Three and a halfyears before our story starts. Fall of senior year in high school
I blinkbefore letting my eyes wander back to the computer screen in front of me. Yep. It’s still there. This isn’t a dream or a drill.
I havean email from Meridian University in Vermont. My inbox has a fair number of emails from colleges. I’m a pretty good hockey player, not that I’m bragging. But my team’s done well this year and my stats are solid, so I’ve had some interest.
But this email is different.It’s not from the recruiting office. It’s not some generic address. And the subject line saysCongratulations, Booker E. Zabek.
This isthe email I’ve been waiting for. I click on it and read the details before texting my best friends. Ty’s away at boarding school in Connecticut. Whit lives down the street, but we go to different schools, and Knox is still a junior. So we don’t hang as often as I'd like, but our group chat is always on.
Booker:I’m in. Holy crap! Meridian wants me to play for them.
Whit:Of course they do, Book. You’re a fucking god on the ice.
Ty:Next year is going to kick ass. Now we just have to decide if we want a suite or if we want to get a place off campus.
Knox:Fuck you all. I’m stuck here for another year.
Ty:Uh, it’s not our fault you’re a year younger.
Knox:(sends pic of himself giving Ty the finger)
Whit:Idk, junior. These two have early admissions on their side. Ty, because he’s a literary genius, and Booker because he’s one step closer to the NHL. But I haven’t gotten my letter yet. Like the rest of the peons, I’ll have to wait until January to learn my fate.
Ty:But you did fill out the application, right?
Whit:Of course, I did.
Whit:Ok, not yet. I’m doing it this weekend.
I laughbecause that’s my best friend Whit in a nutshell. He’s not the most organized guy, but he’ll figure it out. I have no doubt.
Before I can text back,I get a message from my sister Fallon, telling me dinner's ready. It’s a text in all caps, which is the equivalent of a sibling hollering from the bottom of the steps. Fallon’s deaf, so when we’re not in the same room, or when we don’t want anyone to know what we’re talking about, we text. We’re quick to delete our threads though, since my dad is fond of doing random phone checks. That is one of many things I won’t miss next year.
I pocketmy phone and head downstairs to tell my family the good news. Yeah, my sisters will miss me, but I’m the oldest and it’s just natural that I move away first. Ok, Burlington’s a full day’s drive from where we live in Maryland, but I have no doubt my family will visit regularly to ski and to watch me play hockey.
My momand sisters come to all my games. The school I go to is a pretty small Christian school, and we don’t have a hockey team, so I play for a travel team. My dad comes to games when he can, but if I’m being honest, it’s easier when he doesn’t.
My dad is…intense.He was a great athlete back in his day. He played college football and even played in the pros for a few years. Now, he sells real estate, manages properties, and puts the fear of God into his children at every opportunity. Literally.
I feel guilty,but I’m looking forward to going away next year. Living anywhere but here will be a relief. And I know I don’t have it so bad. I live in a beautiful house. I drive a new car. I don’t really want for anything material. But living here is stressful. There’s always tension in the air. When my dad goes out of town for business, I feel like we can all breathe. But when he’s home, we’re subjected to his every mood and whim. When he's in a good mood, everything’s great. But his moods change so quickly. His worldview is so narrow. His judgments are so harsh.
My dad isthe kind of guy with an opinion on everything, even things he knows nothing about. And he doesn’t just have opinions; he has Opinions. He has Opinions about hockey—a sport he’s never played. He has Opinions about Fallon’s deafness—which is way outside his lane. He has Opinions about a woman’s place in the home—and my mother goes right along with them. As the man of the house, his word is law.
So moving northto Vermont and living with my two best friends sounds like paradise. Sure, Ty can be moody, and Whit can be loud, but that’s nothing compared to the eggshell-patterned floor I’m currently tiptoeing all over.
