Chapter Thirteen

I’m in my room Tuesday evening, half-heartedly trying to review my pre-calc notes for an exam tomorrow, when Mom knocks on my door.

“Hey, I was unpacking a box of clothes and found something of yours. I swear we tried to keep things separate, but I keep finding the craziest stuff in these boxes.”

I’m not surprised—toward the end we were throwing stuff into any box with space. I close my laptop and turn to Mom. She drops a pink sweatshirt on my bed with a shrug.

“I don’t recognize it, but I know it isn’t mine since it’s cropped.” She laughs. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes.”

She leaves but my eyes stay glued to the sweatshirt. Bright pink cropped sweatshirts aren’t exactly my aesthetic either—that was always Paige. I’ve seen her wear this sweatshirt on countless occasions, and I’m not proud of the bitter pleasure I feel knowing she’s never getting it back. But more than that, an overwhelming wave of sadness falls on me, like a weighted blanket that’s smothering me.

So many memories are attached to that one item of clothing—us laughing over smoothies and trying on clothes and learning TikTok dances in my living room. Mostly what I remember is laughing. And I hate that it’s all gone because of a boy who doesn’t deserve either of us. Sometimes I imagine what I would say to her if I saw her again. He doesn’t deserve you and you never deserved me. Or maybe I’d only ask, Was it worth it?

But I’m not ready for that answer.

I steel myself, then pick up the sweatshirt and throw it on top of the tote that holds all the other memories I don’t want to deal with. It’s full of pictures and mementos I can’t look at, but also can’t bring myself to throw away. It feels like throwing away years of my own life. But then, losing her feels a lot like that too.

I know Mom will come back up if I don’t go downstairs for dinner, so I make myself go even though I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now. I help myself to lasagna and salad and sit down.

“I think the house is coming along pretty well,” Dad says cheerfully as he comes to the table. He holds up his plate to the rest of us. “We can eat off actual plates and we know where to put them once they’re clean.”

Mom puts a hand on her hip and looks around. “I’d say it’s a work in progress.”

It’s true that there are fewer boxes than last week. But framed art and pictures still lean against the walls because we haven’t had time to hang them, and there are piles of miscellaneous things in each room when we give up on organizing.

“So, tell me what you’ve been up to at school,” Dad says to me and Andrew. Ugh, he’s in one of his overly attentive moods.

As usual, Andrew shrugs one shoulder and keeps chewing. “Nothing much. It’s school.”

“Do you like your teachers?” Dad persists.

Andrew decided last year when he turned fifteen that he was done talking to anybody older than his friends. I feel like I know more about the fictional characters in our D&D game than I do about him.

“Not really, they’re teachers. But they could be worse.” He shovels another piece of lasagna into his mouth.

Dad and Mom share a smirk. “Glad for the clarification. How about you, Quinn?”

“Things are good.” I’m ready with my answer. I need to give details, but just enough so they’re satisfied without needing to ask more questions. “I really like my English teacher. She’s young and the system hasn’t completely burned her out yet.”

Mom takes a drink of water and eyes me. “Have you thought any more about how you might want to get involved at school? Like some clubs you could get involved with or maybe even a sport? It’s too late for winter sports now, but what about something for spring like softball or tennis?”

I shake my head in exasperation. “You know I’m not into sports.”

“But you’ve never tried,” she argues. “You don’t know if you haven’t tried.”

“I think my abject lack of interest is a pretty good hint.” My tone is sharper than I intend and even Andrew lifts his eyes briefly to mine before looking away.

“Mom, you can’t just pick up a sport like that in high school,” Andrew adds. “Especially if you’re like Quinn.”

I jab at my salad rather than say something snarky to Andrew. I know I should be grateful that he’s standing up for me, but he has a real talent for supporting me through insults.

Mom puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine, I was just wondering. This is a good time to make new friends and get involved. That’s all I’m saying.”

“D&D is going well,” I reply. “We got more followers on our last livestream than the one previous.”

“I’m still not sure I understand what this all is. So, you and these other kids play D&D and videotape yourselves and then put it online?” Dad looks more than skeptical.

“People log in to watch us play live.”

Dad shakes his head. “But…why?”

Andrew snorts into his food and I sink deeper into my chair. “Because it’s fun and interesting and our DM comes up with cool ideas for our campaign. In case you haven’t realized, D&D is actually a really big deal.”

“Sure, of course,” Dad says quickly, and glances at Mom for help. “It’s been around since I was in school.”

“We have people watching from around the world.”

Okay, we have three Germans but still.

“Well, maybe we should start watching, too, then,” Mom says pointedly. “What’s the name of this? How do we do it?”

I can tell from her big eyes and eager nod that she’s trying really hard to be supportive. And I guess it isn’t fair to be annoyed since I don’t like it when they support Andrew’s interests and not mine, but the idea of my parents hovering around their old laptop and watching the livestream is so cringy. Just the possibility of it sucks the joy out of the game. The only way I’m able to enjoy playing is by telling myself that everyone watching is a faceless stranger I’ll never have to interact with. But if I refuse to give them the info, then they’ll probably get suspicious about what exactly I’m livestreaming to the masses.

I push down a sigh and give them the details of how to log onto the livestream and how to rewatch old sessions. Then I have to write down the instructions because it’s too confusing for them. By the time I’m finished, Andrew’s done eating. He sits back and shakes his head.

“I still can’t believe people watch you talking in someone’s basement.”

“At least it’s more interesting than watching people run around a field trying to kick a ball,” I reply.

“All right, all right,” Dad says. “Let’s not ruin dinner with you two sniping at each other. Now, speaking of soccer, when is your next game, Andrew?”

“Friday.”

“You know what would be great?” Mom asks, and I’m already sure this will be the opposite of great. “If all of us had a family night together at Andrew’s game.” She turns to me. “You don’t have anything going on Friday. Let’s all go and we’ll cheer him on. We can get ice cream afterward.”

Now I’m the one snorting into my lasagna. There’s no way Andrew’s going to get ice cream with his parents and dorky older sister when he has cool friends to hang out with. I wish I had a good excuse, but there’s no reason I can’t go. I just don’t want to.

“I guess?”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic to cheer on your brother. It’s pretty amazing what he’s doing.”

He’s in sports and making friends and being the quintessential high school success, as opposed to me, the loser, who plays games with her nerdy friends in the basement. But the idea of sitting and watching Andrew play for multiple hours makes me want to curl into the fetal position. Although, one thing could make it more tolerable.

“Can I bring a friend?” I ask.

“That requires you to have one,” Andrew mutters.

Mom furrows her brow. “Well, it’s not exactly a family outing if you bring someone along, but I do love the idea of meeting your new friend.”

“Who would you bring?” Andrew asks.

“Kashvi Anand.”

His eyes light up. “Oh yeah, never mind, you should definitely bring her.”

“How do you know Kashvi?”

“She helps out Mrs.Carmichael in my bio lab, like as an assistant. I guess she’s really smart.” He shrugs. “She’s cool. I’m surprised she’s friends with you.”

If my parents weren’t here, I’d dump the rest of my food on his head.

“She is cool. And guess what else she is? Part of my livestream D&D group.” I raise my eyebrows. “Now what do you have to say?”

“Nothing. I never said D&D was dumb. Just that youare.”

“Andrew,” Mom says with a sigh.

“I won’t ask her to come if you’re going to be a jerk.”

“But then you won’t get to hang out with her either.” He grins, knowing he has me. “Or maybe I’ll just ask her to come myself.”

Ugh, I can’t believe my gross little brother has a thing for Kashvi.

I bite my lip, debating. I want to refuse to bring her just to annoy Andrew, but I also don’t want to punish myself. This soccer game will be infinitely more fun with her there.

“ Fine, I’ll ask her.” I point at him. “But stay far away from us. We haven’t been friends for long, and she’ll lose all respect for me if she knows we’re related.”