He squirms a little. “I’d like to. Me and a friend of mine—Ben—have this idea about starting something where tennis players connect with coaches and nutritionists and trainers and things like that. We want to open more tennis courts in low-income areas and get sponsors for kids from all backgrounds to help them get into tennis.”
Hearing him say ‘low-income areas’ makes my blood boil. But I won’t make a scene in front of Ma and Stacie. I shovel a bite of food in my mouth.
“That’s amazing, Nate,” Ma says.
“Yeah, really cool,” Stacie agrees.
“How about your stepdad, what does he do again?” Ma takes a sip of coffee. She’s looking at Nate like he’s the most interesting thing in the world. I wanna tell her he’s not that special, but I can’t even fucking say it in my head.
“His company buys other companies and then tells them how to make more money. I don’t really know, to be honest.” Nate’s voice is tense. I remember him hating his stepdad when his ma first met him. But I’m guessing he’s over it now. The guy gave him this awesome life, with all his awesome frat bros, and awesome tennis clubs, and all the awesome money he could ever want.
“Could he help out with some of this stuff? Getting your idea off the ground?”
Nate turns bright red.Knew it. Stepdaddy comes to the rescue once again.
“Um, yeah. He’s put me in touch with some people who could point us in the right direction.”
Point you in the right direction? Like fund it and push it to the front of the line. Nepotism at its finest.
“I keep telling Evan he should start a business,”Ma says. I nearly spit my pancakes all over the table. If only she knew the kind of business I was in on the side.
Stacie scoffs.
“What?” Ma asks.
“Evan’s a dumbass.”
I know she’s a kid and that’s what siblings do, butfuck you little girl.
“He is not a dumbass,” Ma says.
“True,” Nate says.
What the fuck?
He leans over the table, close enough that I can smell his expensive cologne and the maple-flavor syrup on his breath. “Evan is actually a secret nerd. At school, he’d always get the highest score in the pop quizzes Mrs. Smith set us. They were really hard, too.”
Ma’s fucking beaming. Stacie giggles and my face feels like it’s on fire.
“Can everyone stop talking about me like I’m not here now?”
“What? It’s true,” Nate says, sinking back in his chair.
My heart races. Blood rushes in my ears. I push my chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the cheap vinyl floor.
“Where are you going?” Ma asks.
“Out.”
I throw a hoodie on at the door, slip into my battered Nikes and leave the house, relief and guilt rushing through me as I move away from that place.
“Evan!”
I ignore Nate’s voice and keep walking. He gets in his car and turns the engine. He’ll catch up with me, easy. But the further away from the house I am, the better.
He drives alongside me as I round the corner out of the neighborhood.
“Get in,” he says. “We’ll go to the arcade.”
