"So," Phil said loudly, desperately executing a hard pivot to change the subject, pasting on a bright, incredibly forced smile. "How about that local sports team? Luke, buddy! Let's talk about you! You survived your first football practice today? Did you pass the ball anybody?"
"It was... highly educational, Dad," I replied smoothly, expertly navigating the newly established safe conversation topic. "Coach Miller is a tough guy. He likes running. But I'm pacing myself. Endurance is key for a long career."
"That's my boy! You keep that up, build that stamina, and soon you'll be kicking game-winning touchdowns!" Phil cheered, completely ignoring the fact that I had absolutely zero intention of ever playing the highly active midfielder position.
The rest of the dinner passed smoothly, mostly because everyone was too terrified to bring up Grandma DeDe again. We chatted about miscellaneous, safe things—Haley complaining about a strict teacher who wouldn't let her text under the desk in history class, and Alex talking about the intricacies of an upcoming regional debate tournament.
I just ate quietly, enjoying the rest of my food and the relative peace of the evening.
Once dinner was completely finished and the plates were cleared into the sink, I politely excused myself from the table and walked lazily back up the stairs to my room.
Closing the door behind me, I let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to drain the last bit of energy from my soul. The day had been incredibly long.
Between dodging homing delivery trucks, dealing with the existential crisis of a new identity, effortlessly passing honors algebra, surviving the physical torture of football drills, and the heart-stopping terror of being caught naked by my sister, my mental battery was officially at one percent.
I walked over to my dresser and started thinking about my strategy for the football club in the morning.
Morning practice definitely means more running, I strategized, pulling open my drawers to find fresh clothes. I need to play this perfectly. I must show just enough gradual improvement that the coach doesn't yell at me or make me run extra penalty laps, but not enough improvement that he thinks I'm a hidden star player.
I pulled a shirt over my head. If I show talent, he'll make me a midfielder or a wide receiver, and those guys run the most. It's a trap. I need to balance my stats perfectly. Aim firmly for the Kicker position, or maybe backup Safety. Minimum movement, maximum bench time. That is the true Dao of Sports.
With my lazy master plan set for the next day, I quickly changed out of my sweaty day clothes and slipped into a highly comfortable set of loose, dark blue sleepwear pajamas.
I stretched my arms high above my head, preparing to dive face-first onto my plush mattress and sleep for a solid, uninterrupted ten hours.
Creak.
I froze mid-stretch.
My highly attuned senses picked up the distinct sound of light footsteps right behind me on the carpet, followed instantly by the soft, unmistakable click of my bedroom door closing shut.
I spun around, thoroughly surprised.
Standing right inside my room, having entered completely without knocking or informing me of her presence, was Alex.
She was dressed in her own set of neat, perfectly pressed plaid pajamas. Her dark hair was brushed out for the night, framing her face, and she was clutching a small book to her chest.
She didn't look apologetic for intruding. In fact, she looked around my room casually, inspecting the posters on the wall as if she owned the place, before her sharp brown eyes locked onto mine.
Slowly, a smug, incredibly victorious little smile spread across her face.
My right eye gave a violent, uncontrollable twitch.
Thick, imaginary black anger marks popped up on my forehead, just like an anime character who was about to completely lose their mind. Are you absolutely kidding me right now? I raged internally, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.
But then, before I could yell at her to get out, the memory of our 'Midnight Treaty' from just a few hours ago flashed vividly in my mind.
Rule number one: You can come in here anytime. You can hang out, and you can watch me.
I closed my eyes. I took a deep, steadying breath through my nose, inhaling the cool air-conditioned breeze. I forced my clenched jaw to relax, unballing my fists.
I opened my eyes and looked at the digital clock glowing red on my nightstand. It was almost nine-thirty at night.
Really? I thought tiredly, feeling the sheer exhaustion weighing down my bones like lead. Doesn't a top-tier honors student need to sleep early and wake up early for her intense studies? Why the hell is she here right now? Does she actually plan to sit in the corner of my dark room and watch me sleep to make sure I don't magically absorb advanced math formulas through my pillow?
I swallowed my intense annoyance. A deal was a deal. If I threw her out now, she would instantly declare the treaty void and run straight to Claire with the full, unfiltered story of my birthday-suit escapades.
I forced the corners of my mouth to turn up, pasting on the brightest, fakest, most welcoming 'happy big brother' smile I could possibly muster.
"Well, hello there, Alex," I said, gesturing broadly to the room with a sweeping motion of my arm. "Welcome to the Luke Cave. Please, make yourself at home. To what do I owe the absolute pleasure of your company at this incredibly late hour?"