Clee, I know you haven’t had a lot of experience dating—
I splutter in protest because, as far as I know, my dad knows zilch about my boyfriend history. Unless Jordan told him that too. Oh, Clee’s so desperate, she could get taken in by any good-looking guy.
But, as a man, I know that guys will say anything when they meet a pretty girl… He lets this advice trail off, so I don’t have to hear my father explain that Mats lied to get in my pants.
Mats isn’t like that. He’s very popular. He could literally date anyone on campus, I insist. Becks nods emphatically.
One of those playboy types. You’ll be better off without someone like him.
He’s ignoring everything I said. And now he’s already on to the next problem.
Your mother’s in my ear because Jordan’s refusing to pick you up for her big birthday do on Sunday. So, can you mend things with your brother, so I don’t have to be your personal taxi service?
Is that what it boils down to? I’m not supposed to date Mats because my dad doesn’t want to spend a couple of hours driving me around?
Dad, I’ve got a great idea. I can come home with you when you come for the game Saturday night. I’ll stay at your place. Or Mom’s. Then nobody has to make an extra trip, I suggest helpfully.
As I said, it’s not a sure thing that I can come. If my meetings go long, I won’t be there.
Anger and disappointment swirl inside me. Dad, this is so unfair. You don’t even know Mats. You’re just going off all the bullshit that Jordan told you.
His voice stiffens. Clee, there are millions of boys you could go out with. But I’ll tell you one thing: That boy will never be welcome in my home.
And, on that happy note, he disconnects.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck, I hiss.
So, good news, then, Becks replies.
Oh, yeah. First, my brother found out I’m dating Mats and tore me a new one. Now, my dad is trying to finish the job. They want me to break up with Mats.
Cock-a-doodle-doo, crows Becks.
What was that? I ask.
That’s the sound of chickens coming home to roost. I knew this would happen. You were too chicken to confront your brother when you should have, and now your problem is snowballing.
I don’t know how confronting him earlier would have helped. They’re never going to like Mats unless he gets Jordan back onto the Mustangs.
She shrugs. Like that’ll happen. So, what are you going to do?
Ugh. First, I need a ride back home. Any chance you’d like to spend Sunday afternoon at my mom’s birthday party? I plead.
None. Was Jordan supposed to drive you?
Yeah. But now he’s pissed at me, so he won’t come here. I groan.
Or, here’s a suggestion, Jordan can sack up and drive here instead of acting like a big baby. She shakes her head. I don’t get why your whole family caters to him.
He got sick when he was very young, so my parents worried more about him. I was only a toddler then, so I don’t remember any details. But my parents always acted extra-protective, and I picked up on that.
Becks frowns. Oh, sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me before?
Because there’s a lot of bullshit in my family, I explain. Sometimes I don’t know if things are real or exaggerated.
My dad is charming, and good at storytelling. But he exaggerates for dramatic effect. I’ve heard him spin small incidents into epic tales.
But still, Jordan’s fine now, right? I mean, he can play competitive hockey, Becks says.
