"He called you?"
"He couldn't. I blocked his number. He called my mom and told her he wanted to talk to me."
"Brook, you need to call him back. If he put in the effort to call your mom, it means he's really serious about this."
"Calling my mom didn't take effort. He was using her, hoping she'd convince me to call him, which I'm not going to do."
"If I were you, I'd consider it. You've known this other guy for what...a few weeks? Maybe a month? That's nothing. You've known Chad forever. You can't just give that up."
"I can, and I did. I don't want him back. I'm so much happier without him. I didn't know I could even be this happy."
"You're happy being with a guy who's in the hospital because his father, a convicted felon, beat him up? Sounds like a real stable family. No dysfunction there," she says sarcastically. "Where's his mom? Is she in prison too?"
"She took off last year. Dean's been raising his brother, something Chad would never do."
"Chad also wouldn't end up in prison."
"Dean's never been in prison."
"Yeah, but he will be. That's his future. Kids who have a parent in prison usually end up there themselves. Look it up if you don't believe me."
"That might be true for some people, but not Dean. He'd never hurt anyone."
"He plays football. He's already hurt people."
"That's different. It's part of the sport. It's not like he does it on purpose. And outside of football, he'd never hurt anyone."
"You sure about that? You ever see him when he's angry?"
"Yes, and he was fine. He's not like his dad. Not even close."
"Yeah, okay," she says in a condescending tone.
"Jane, I have to go." I need to end this call before I yell at her for saying bad things about Dean. She doesn't even know him.
"Call Chad. You two could at least be friends. As for the other guy, good luck."
I end the call and turn out the light, even though there's no way I'm sleeping after that. I'm so freaking angry. She acts like she knows what's best for me. Chad acted that way too and I hated it. They both seem to think I'm too stupid to figure out my own life. They don't get that what they think is best for me isn't what makes me happy. My parents don't get it either.
At two in the morning, I'm still awake, staring at the ceiling and wishing I could call Dean. I hope he's okay. I hope he's sleeping and not in pain.
A text pops up on my phone.You awake?
It's Eve.
How'd you know?I text back.
You want to talk?
It's ok. You can go back to sleep.
The phone rings.
"Eve, you didn't have to call."
"We're friends. Of course I'm going to call. How are you feeling?"
"Sad. Angry. Helpless."
