A scoff ripped its way from my throat. “What the fuck? Seriously?”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Unfortunately.”
“What happened to Tucker? He was supposed to take over.”
“His parents moved. He’s pitching for The Wolves now.”
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Gabe just lifted his brows and dropped them as a response. “Anyway, I’m going to run up to my room and change. You can have a seat in the living room.” He motioned to a room behind me before moving up the stairs.
I turned, taking in the house that was nothing like the one I’d grown up in. His house was warm and inviting. Just walking up the sidewalk, I could tell that it was the kind of house that had a loving family having dinner together every night. Pictures of him and his kid sister lined the walls. I looked over the pictures as I walked closer and closer to the room that he directed me to. When I finally stepped inside, I found a girl sitting on the couch. She had a plate of cookies sitting beside her, and her eyes were glued to the TV screen.
When I entered the room, she looked over at me. Not expecting to see a stranger, her brows lifted and her big green eyes doubled in size. “Who are you?”
“My name is Elliot. I’m friends with your brother.” I pointed my finger toward the ceiling. “I’m just waiting for Gabe to change. Then we’re going to a party.”
She turned her attention back to the TV, not bothering to say another word.
Things felt awkward. The house was too quiet, and I was in a dimly lit living room with this little girl I didn’t know. Unsure of what to do, I awkwardly moved to have a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
“I won’t bite, you know?”
I turned my head to look at her. “Well, I’d hope not. You look too old to still be biting people.”
That made her giggle, the sound light and bubbly.
“How old are you anyway?”
“Thirteen,” she answered, dusting the cookie crumbs from her hands.
She looked younger than thirteen. Most thirteen-year-old girls tried to look older than they were by dressing in tight tops or short skirts, but she was wearing a pair of overalls with a striped shirt beneath them. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she didn’t have a speck of makeup on her face.
“I would’ve thought you were ten or something.”
That made her frown at me. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Most girls your age are caking their face in makeup that’s too dark or gluing those long fake nails to their fingers. You still look like a kid.”
Her mouth tightened into a straight line, and her eyes narrowed. I could tell that she didn’t like my assessment of her.
“It’s a good thing, trust me.” I leaned back, finally feeling comfortable enough to relax a little.
“How can that be a good thing?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering if I should let her in on a little secret. Then I decided to say fuck it. I had hoped to be a teacher one day, so I figured I might as well get used to shaping young minds. “Most girls think that they need to look a certain way to be cool, popular, liked by a guy, or whatever the case may be. However, becoming someone else will never truly make you happy. Be yourself. If you’re a weirdo who likes to play with those trading cards, do it. Sure, some people will make fun of you for it, but eventually, you’ll find the type of people you’re supposed to be with. And that’s how you make yourself happy.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed.
“What?”
“Are you like a youth leader or something?”
I snorted in disbelief. Did I look like a fucking youth leader? “No.”
“So you just go around handing out the secret of life to everyone?”
“You’re kind of a smart ass, you know that?”
