Wasted Words by Staci Hart

I let out a breath, though it did little to vent the pressure in my chest. The room was chilly when I flipped back the blankets, and I rushed to dress, pulling on track pants and an Under Armour long-sleeved shirt that fit me like second skin.

Downstairs, my family bustled around — Dad making breakfast, Mom sitting at the bar drinking coffee with Meg, Jamie and Grace sitting at the breakfast table, whispering and giggling. They looked up when I entered.

Meg smirked at me. “Morning, slugger.”

I smirked back.

“How’s your hand?”

I held it up — it was a little swollen, especially around my knuckles, which were raw, but it was fine. I wiggled my fingers. “In working order.” I made my way to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup. “Dad tell you?”

“I only told your mom,” Dad called over his shoulder.

“I never did like Kyle,” Mom said and took a sip.

I laughed. “Liar.”

“Well, fine, but I haven’t liked him in a long time.”

“Me neither.”

“Everybody was talking about it last night,” Meg said. “I wish you’d come out.”

“I don’t, not after that.” I sighed. “I was hoping nobody was watching.”

She rolled her eyes. “Everybody in Nebraska was watching Kyle Churchill. I thought you guys were friends?”

“So did I.” I took a seat next to my mom. “He talked about Cam in a way I didn’t like, and it wasn’t the first time. And I found out he said some stuff to her that hurt her, which hurts me, and hurt us. So, yeah. I decked Kyle Churchill on the sidelines of the homecoming game. I feel like I had plenty of reasons.”

“I agree,” Meg said. “You talk to Cam?”

I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee to avoid speaking.

Dad walked up with plates and slid them over to Mom and Meg first. “She’ll come around, Tyler.”

I nodded slowly as he went back for another set of plates. “How was the party, Meg?”

She shrugged. “Same old. If you’d asked me when I was a freshman if I’d ever get tired of parties, I’d have laughed at you and said you were crazy. But now that I’m old enough to drink, the magic’s gone.” She popped a piece of bacon in her mouth.

Mom gave her a look.

“What?” she asked innocently. “It’s not like you didn’t do the same. It’s basically a cardinal rule of attending college.”

She rolled her eyes and took a bite of her eggs. “What are you boys doing today?”

Dad had already given Grace and Jamie their plates and was heading over with ours. “We’ve got a workout planned with Darryl at the stadium.”

I frowned as I took my plate. “Not the gym?”

“Nah,” he said as he took a seat next to me. “I’ve got something special planned.”

“That’s never good.”

He smirked. “Oh, it’ll be good, but you’re bound to hate me when it’s over.”

I groaned.

“This is about as active as I plan on being,” Meg said and went for another slice of bacon. “I’m exhausted. I’m planning on sleeping and reading the book you brought me.”

I shook my head. “Aren’t you ever going to move out?”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Why would I move out? Bust my butt to work and finish school my senior year just so I can pay bills?” She snorted. “No, thanks. Pass. Hard pass. Plus, who will cook me breakfast on Sundays?” She smiled at Dad.

He smiled back wryly. “Sunday breakfast will be here whether you live here or not, so feel free to move out whenever you want, honey, and you just drop in to see me if you’re looking for pancakes.”

I laughed.

Mom looked at her watch and sat up a little straighter. “Oh, shoot.” She shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and pushed away from the table. “I’ve got to get going.”

I raised a brow. “At nine in the morning on a Sunday?”

She flushed a little. “I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing?”

“A thing,” she said pointedly.

“Well, all right, I guess. Don’t let us stop you from your mysterious thing. I’ll try not to be hurt that my only mother doesn’t want to eat breakfast with me.”

She chuckled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?” She and Dad shared a look. “Have fun working out. Tell Darryl I said hello.”

“We will,” Dad said, and Mom left.

Jamie and Grace giggled from the table again, and I caught Meg making the throat-cut motion with her finger. She grinned at me when she saw me looking.

“What?” she asked chastely.

I narrowed my eyes. “You guys are acting squirrely.”

She rolled hers. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, Tyler.”

I looked at Dad, who shrugged, so I did the same and tucked into my breakfast, wondering what had gotten into everybody.

A couple of hours later, we pulled up to the stadium, mercifully. I had no idea why Dad ran all over creation before heading to campus — we drove to the hardware store and walked through the lumber for twenty minutes, then to Target where we picked out a Halloween card for my grandparents, and finally to the sporting goods store, which was the only thing that made any sense. His phone kept going off, and once someone called, but his end of the conversation was only one-word sentences.

So, by the time we got to the stadium, I was suspicious.

“Took us long enough,” I shot as I climbed out.