Page 12 of It’s All in How You Fall
“Jesus Christ, you’re not human.”
Okay, that makes me laugh enough to wobble. Still, I make a controlled dismount and flip my hair up to standing, my face probably pink.
“I was present at her birth. She’s human.” Nat’s back. “Also, for future reference—I know for a fact you think gymnasts are cute and all, but my sister is off-limits.”
My brother chest passes his ball at my chin, as if to prove my humanness because he knows I’ll whiff it, but Alex’s hand shoots out, cutting it off with a thud. I would thank him for saving my face, but I’m completely flabbergasted that Nat would think there was anything romantic about me doing a handstand. WithAlex. Who is mostly the polar opposite of my brother, so he’s actually not even dignifying that weird overprotective aside with a response. Instead, he gathers the water bottles and tosses one at Nat, and with the same razor-sharp precision he slices apart the other half of that statement. “Dude, you weren’t even two. Long-term memory doesn’t start until three.”
Nat takes the bait and doubles down. “Human birth is something you don’t forget. It isn’t remembered—it’s seared into my brain. I mean, have you ever seen your mother’s—”
“Stop talking right the hell now or I’m going to vomit and you’re not going to lay a finger on the dinner money Dad gave me because my stomach cannot trust you.”
“Wait, dinner?” Nat’s whole posture changes.Squirrel.“Did Dad get called in?”
“Yep. And if you want to eat more than whatever ramen is in the back of the pantry, you better not throw any more balls at my face or start talking about Mom’s body parts.”
Nat smirks into his water bottle lid as he goes in for a drink. “Technically, I was talking about Alex’s mom’s body parts.”
“That’s most definitely not better, Nat.”
My brother swallows a huge gulp of water, wipes his mouth, and looks his best friend straight in the face before he says, “Have you seen your mom? She’s hot.”
My eyes shoot to Alex. “Why do you hang out with him?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Habit.”
Nat just laughs and gestures to the parking lot beyond the duck pond. “Alex, dinner’s on us if you drive.”
6
Alex indeed joins us for dinner, gracefully offering us towel-coveredseats in his ten-year-old Dodge Challenger. Well, the towels are for the two boys—I’m not sweaty enough to leave salty stains on his beloved upholstery.
Because of Alex’s presence (and generosity), Nat nixes my grocery store sushi altogether for a trip to Burger Fu. We snag a patio spot, because even if by the grace of modern deodorant technology the boys don’t stink, they look sweaty and could do some major damage to the leather booth seats inside.
The second we’re seated with two sets of Bunny Fu Fu burgers and fries plus my caprese-arugula salad special, Nat starts giving me shit like it’s supposed to be dinner and a show. He hasn’t even swallowed his first bite, and he’s leveled his eyes on me, lips cocked to the side as he chews. “Why the heck did you order salad, Caro?”
“Uh, because I like salad.”
“But you don’tneedto eat salad.” He tosses a fry at me. “Live a little. Enjoy a trans fat. Consider it reentry into the world of normal people.”
I flick it off my plate. “No thanks.”
Confusion crosses Alex’s face as he takes a bite of his own burger, but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to, though, because I can feel Nat revving up. Maybe he’s high off talking with his soon-to-be-senior crush, or maybe he’s just hit his breaking point on both niceness and silence, having spent weeks holding back on giving me shit for my world-class moping. I’m not surprised when he says, “Come on, Caro, we can’t keep ignoring the elephant.”
“What elephant?” I pointedly shove a forkful of baby arugula, heirloom tomato, basil, and little balls of buffalo mozzarella into my mouth and chew.
Of course, I can ignore the elephant, but Nat can’t and won’t. My answer registers—barely—before my brother plows forward. He does look before he leaps, but most of the time he doesn’t care what he sees and just does it anyway. He says to Alex, almost as if I’m not there, “Caroline’s back is shit and Dad made her quit gymnastics.”
I don’t see Alex’s reaction as he immediately says, “I’m sorry, Caroline.” I can’t look at either of them. I can only zone in on a single tiny piece of arugula in front of me.
Nat has basically been my personal devil’s advocate since I was born. Always arguing. Always pushing. Always, always, always. I love him more than my left arm, but I also often wish he’d take his half-shitty knees and spend a couple of months climbing Everest.
Nat keeps going. “It’s beenweeksand yet she’s still stretching for two hours a day like her life depends on it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with staying flexible,” I sniff.
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with it.” Nat’s wound up now, animated, big and loud. “But look, handstands in the park, splits for hours at a time, salads at the best burger place in town? All proof that you can’t let that shit go.”
I suddenly wish I’d just kept the forty dollars to myself and watched Nat overcook his ramen. “I think you need to mind your own business.”
