She scoffs. “Tell that to Mum and Dad. You’re the easy kid. I’m the difficult one according to them.”
“Jen, to be fair, it’s not easy with you.”
“Yeah, okay, so I’m moody.”
“And some,” I snark.
“Were you never a teenager?” she demands.
“I still am, but I don’t recall being so angry all the time.”
Throwing her hands in the air, she jumps off the bed and starts pacing. “Yeah, I’m angry. I don’t feel comfortable in my own home, Eden. Everything I say is reduced to my stupid hormones. Sometimes I have problems that I’d like to talk to someone about. I’d like to be taken seriously.”
I’m speechless. I really had no clue she was feeling this way.
“Jenna,” I begin softly. “I’m sorry. Really. I just assumed you were angry at the world because you’re fourteen, but that’s no excuse. I should’ve tried harder to check in. Iwant you to talk to me about anything. I promise you, no one in this house will mock you for wanting to do something different. If cheer is what you want to do, I’m behind you one thousand percent. Sloane will be happy to help, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, she already offered.”
“Good. So, what can I do to help? Do you want me to talk to Mum and Dad?”
She stops pacing and faces me. For the first time in ages, Jenna is looking at me like I’m her big sister again and not the bane of her existence. “Would you?”
“Sure. Whatever you need, Jen.”
Another neck scratch? “Thank you.”
“And hey! Now I know you’re all into athletics and shit, you can help me!”
The eye roll is somewhat comforting. My pissy sister is still there. “I’m not getting up early.”
“Fair. I hate it. How about doing something else with me?”
Jenna picks up her Nintendo Switch and hands it to me. “Sloane asked me to lend you this.”
What is it with people changing the subject so randomly?
“Okay?”
A scoff. “Don’t be dim, E. You can play games that help with exercise. Sloane thought you’d find it more fun than just gym. She even suggested we could play together.”
Huh. That…actually sounds pretty cool.
“Bullshit, that was out!”
Jenna snickers behind me. “No, it wasn’t. You missed the ball completely, Eden.”
“I meant to because it was going out!”
“Not according to the ref.”
“Rigged. The game’s rigged. Or you’re standing closer to the telly, and my controller signal is getting blocked.”
Jenna falls about laughing as I pout. We’ve only been playing Switch tennis for ten minutes and I’m already pissed. I swing the bloody virtual racket, and my dumbass avatar misses the massive yellow ball every time. Jenna has won three games already.
As soon as she handed over the game console, I asked her to set it up in my room. Obviously, then we had to testit. Much to my chagrin, I’m crap at virtual sports as much as real ones.
“E, you have to time it. Not just flail around and hope you hit the ball.”
