DeeDee’s signature phrase.
“Alas, no,” I manage to choke out. “Have fun at the movie, guys.”
I can’t tell if I want to punch something or just sit down on the sidewalk with my head in my hands as I make my way home.
* * *
“As our mother would say,you look like a sad sack of potatoes.”
“Well thanks, Hope.” I shake my head, but I can’t help grinning at her face on my laptop screen. “I don’t know why she says that. It doesn’t even make sense.”
Hope runs a hand through her hair, and I try not to let the sight of the teal strands DeeDee dyed make me an even sadder sack of potatoes.
“I learned long ago not to question the ways of our mother.”
I settle back onto my pillows in bed. “Well you certainly questioned her rules every chance you got growing up.”
“And you were a goodie two shoes,” she shoots back. “You were like Mom’s disciple, always carrying food to the neighbors andputting others before yourself.”
She says the last part with an extra pious expression and her hands poised like some sort of yogi.
“What’s wrong with that?” I demand.
“Nothing, except you and Mom are like, extreme about it. You both bend over backwards for everyone else until you collapse. You have zero boundaries.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Wow, Hope. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m sorry.” She pushes away from her laptop a little, swivelling in her desk chair. I can see a huge framed photo of her lacrosse team on the wall behind her, along with a very hipster-looking macramé plant holder. “I just get very passionate about this. You’ve always been there for me, helping me reach my goals, and I want to help you do that too. Speaking of, tell me the news!”
I spill the beans, and she, predictably, flips her shit. She pulls out an actual air horn from somewhere in her room and starts blasting it while dancing around.
“Hope, that’s hurting my ears,” I complain. “Your roommates are probably about to murder you.”
She just prances away off camera, and I hear her door open before she shouts, “My brother is a rich and successful businessman!”
“How did you find people willing to live with you?” I ask after she settles back down in her chair.
“Oh, they’re all even louder than me. We’re lacrosse players. We hit people with sticks for fun. Rowdiness is in our blood.”
“Are you actuallysupposedto hit people with the sticks?”
She pauses. “Technically no, but it’s hard to avoid. So, what are your big plans now that you’re making all this dough?”
“Well...” I trail off and sigh. “To be honest, I don’t feel as ecstatic about it as I thought I would.”
Hope’s face softens, and she wheels herself closer to her desk so her face takes up most of the screen. The sight of her blue eyes behind her glasses, the eyes everybody says are the exact same colour as mine, makes me wish she was here so strongly it’s a physical ache in my chest.
“You’re not doing well, are you, Zach?”
“Iwantto be doing well,” I admit. “I know I’m doing the right thing. She...she needed to do what she did. I believe that, but...everybody keeps telling me I need to pay more attention to whatIneed, and I know it sounds stupid and sappy and maybe even pathetic, but I really feel like I needher. I didn’t care about the labels or the details or how long it was going to take. I would have taken whatever she had to gi—”
“Brother.” Hope cuts me off, holding one hand up in the universal sign for ‘stop.’ “I am going to halt you right there and ask you to think about what you’re saying.”
I indulge her and sit in silence for a few seconds.
“Okay. I’m thinking about it.”
“Do you realize what bullshit it is yet?”
