JACKSON:
Let me know if that works. Even I’m not doing homework on a Saturday morning
ELLIE:
Just getting it over with
Mom drops by my room carrying a pressed suit, which she hangs on the back of my closet door. “This is for tonight. Any tie will do.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I take a quick shower and head back downstairs, sitting at the table and absolutely starving as Dad cooks salmon on the stove. I hadn’t noticed a second text from Ellie.
ELLIE:
What are you up to?
JACKSON:
I’m considering a nap. My dad made me go work out AFTER a scrimmage set, and now my mom wants to drag me with them to some charity event tonight.
ELLIE:
Double yikes
JACKSON:
I think my parents love the idea of who I *could be* a little too much, probably some instinct to shape a successor in their own image, and all that
ELLIE:
I feel this—my parents definitely wish I was different, more like them
JACKSON:
That would be boring and repetitive
ELLIE:
You don’t have siblings, right? Because that’s how you get definitive proof that they’d prefer if you were a different way
Mom sets the table as Dad brings over the salmon, green beans, and potatoes. “No phones at mealtime, remember, honey?” she says.
“I’m helping someone with a homework question,” I say, quickly sending another text to Ellie. “One second.”
JACKSON:
Yeah, but a sibling or two could really deflect some of this constant attention
Chapter Eleven
Ellie
I thought that,after a little while, Jackson would get bored of hanging out by the teachers’ lounge and return to having lunch with the soccer guys. But several weeks later, even though he seems friendlier with some of his teammates when they cross paths, he’s still sitting with me every day.
We don’t always talk the entire time, but the silence has become comfortable, not awkward.
On Wednesday, I’m spending study hall knitting while Jackson struggles with some calc homework. I stream music to my hearing aid and relax into the repetitive stitches and soft cotton blend.
