But maybe I’d be less bitter if Hailee wasn’t driving me crazy about a certain guy that I’d rather not be thinking about. Just a thought.
“Gianna and I both agree that you’re in denial,” she states in an airy tone, “which we totally understand—but denying the truth is just going to make things harder, Megan.”
“You’re disturbing my breakfast,” I grumble, motioning to my oatmeal. “Go. Away.”
“Are you mad?” Kyle asks, squinting at me from across the table. “Is that why your eyes look weird?”
“Her eyes look weird because she went heavy with the eyeliner,” Hailee comments, pulling her phone out. “And the only reason she’s mad is because she’s knows that I’m right, which just kills her.”
If she doesn’t shut up and leave me alone, I can’t be held responsible for my drastic actions.
Kyle stirs his oatmeal for the umpteenth time. “Right about what?”
And my eyeliner isn’t that heavy. I just couldn’t get my left eye to match my right one. Also, she’s one to talk! I’ve lost track of how many times she’s overdone her eye makeup.
“Just eat your oatmeal, Kyle,” Hailee tells him with a loud huff, “this conversation is so beyond you.”
Kyle sticks out his tongue at her as a response, but she’s too focused on her phone to notice him.
“Are we almost done with breakfast?” Dad asks, poking his head into the dining room. “Hailee? Did you eat?”
She tosses a hand up, waving it around indifferently. “Yeah. Sure, Dad.”
Did she eat? Yes. Did she eat the “scheduled” oatmeal? No. Why? Because she didn’t want to, of course.
“Why isn’t Mom home?” Kyle asks after swallowing some of his oatmeal.
Except, he already knows why.
“Bud, we talked about this last night,” Dad says, fully stepping into the room, “remember? Mom has some early work stuff to handle this morning.”
See? He just likes being annoying. Hailee’s a bad influence on the kid.
“But she’s going to pick me up from school, right?” Kyle raises an eyebrow at Dad. “Because I need a new pencil case, and Mom said we could get one today.”
#secondgraderproblems.
I mean, Dad is totally capable of going “pencil case shopping,” Kyle is just spoiled.
“Yeah, Ky,” Dad drawls with a slight laugh, “Mom will pick you up from school. She and I already talked about it.
Kyle lets out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, good.”
“And how is Megan doing this morning?” Dad asks, raising an eyebrow at me. “Everything okay?”
“She’s mad because Hailee’s right,” Kyle pipes up, his mouth half-full of oatmeal, “and it just kills her.”
Hailee glares at him for his poor impersonation of her, while Dad looks straight-up confused. “Right about what?”
“I asked the same thing!” Kyle exclaims, making a frustrated noise. “But Hailee said it was beyond me…whatever that means.”
“I’m fine,” I answer Dad’s original question, “everything’s fine.”
“Denial,” Hailee fake-coughs over the word.
“Wha—”
“Hey, Dad,” I interrupt him, shooting a discreet glare at Hailee, “what was the name of that bird you were talking about last night at dinner? The one you and Kyle didn’t get to see at the exhibit?”
Hailee rolls her eyes. “I’m going to my room. Let me know when we’re leaving.”
And just like that, the older sister prevails.
Unfortunately, though, the rest of breakfast is spent with Dad’s cringe-inducing bird talk, and I’m honestly sorry that I started the conversation in the first place. I’m even more sorry when the said bird talk continues in the car, and then lasts for the whole car ride.
Is it crazy that I’d prefer Hailee’s off-key singing? Yes.
But I can only take so much of: “that’s why birds…” and “what most people don’t know about birds, is…”
Even Kyle looks like he’s going to be sick.
We finally arrive at Robinson High, and I waste no time in clicking my seatbelt off so I can GET OUT OF THIS CAR.
“Have a great day, Meg,” Dad says, managing to pause his bird-ish rambling.
“You too, Dad,” I reply, opening the car door. “Good luck!”
He laughs at that as I slip out. “I think I’ll be fine…but thanks, Megan.”
The “good luck” wasn’t for him though.
I offer a brief smile before closing the door, and then I start walking toward the school building.
“Hey, Megan!”
Oh no.
I wish I could act like I didn’t hear him, but he’s already too close for me to put the plan into action.
Dang it.
“Hello, Brayden,” I acknowledge him, trying to keep my voice even as he stops beside me.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Like, possibly relocating back to Flemingsburg?
“I just wanted to talk to you about your sudden change of heart,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at me, “what’s up with that?”
Not hot. Not hot. Not hot.
I shrug, not really feeling like giving him an explanation.
“You know what I’m talking about, Megan,” he says, now looking annoyed. “I was just messing around with you yesterday…but then you agreed that we actually are friends. Why?”
“We don’t have to be if you’re not okay with it,” I reply in an airy tone, “that’s fine.”
I would love that. I mean, if he doesn’t want to be “friends” with me, then it’ll be the perfect way for me to get out of the stupid deal with Lora.
“I never said that.” He gives me a flat look. “I just want to know why you changed your mind.”
“We’re not preteens anymore,” I echo Lora’s words from yesterday, “so I figured why not?”
His eyes narrow some, as if he’s still trying to understand me. “Interesting.”
“And since we’re on the topic of yesterday,” I say, forcing myself to ignore how close we are, “I really don’t think it’s necessary to talk about when we used to ‘date.’ Okay? So, let’s just leave that
