Page 56 of Stops Along the Way
“I didn’t like riding my bike because Amelia was so much better at it. She was always first to figure things out, like how toride a bike without training wheels or how to tie her shoes. And I know that makes sense because she’s older, but it always just seemed like she was inherently better at everything than me.”
“Well, you know that’s obviously not true,” Declan says, but he only seems to be half listening.
“Right,” I agree. “Though she still seems to think I’m that little kid she needs to take charge of or make arrangements to get out of her hair.”
If Amelia were here, we’d probably be skating, though. She wouldn’t want us to sit around being boring like this, not when there’s something interesting we could be doing instead.
“Maybe we should—” I start, but realize Declan isn’t listening at all. He’s been lost in his own thoughts, equally annoyed to have been ditched by our siblings, by the look of it, not clueing me into what exactly he’s been thinking. His phone buzzes with a text message, which he glances at but doesn’t respond to.
“Let’s see how Grady enjoys having to spend time later with Mom and Dad all by himself,” he mutters.
“You’re glad to not be getting home yet?” I clearly understand this is about his frustration with his parents and his brother, but it’s also the first glimpse I’m getting that he considers being stuck with me the preferred outcome. “What’s wrong?”
Declan averts his eyes to the empty rink, where the song has changed to a more upbeat tempo and the lights are flashing with more dramatic frequency. He gives up on the rest of the nachos and wipes his fingers on a napkin. “I don’t want to bore you.”
I lean forward, trying to be encouraging. “I’ve been complaining about my sister; it’s your turn.”
“But it’s boring,” he says, yet the words slide out of his mouth, almost desperate to be voiced aloud. “My parents are getting divorced, oh no.” He shakes his head, trying to act unbothered, but his eyes dart away. “They thought it was best to wait until I left for college, which made the last two years since Grady left for school absolutely miserable because the hatred between them became so much more apparent.”
“Yikes. I’m sorry, that must be tough.”
“They only talk to each other through me. And if I got home late, or got a bad grade, they’d both separately lecture me about it, double the punishment, for any minor infraction. It’s intolerable.”
“Super shitty to put on you,” I agree. How did I not pick up on all that he’s been going through? He did seem to shut down when elaborating on how his family is moving, but he always kept the conversation light enough that I didn’t realize there was something deeper lurking beneath.
“I don’t even know why I’m mentioning it, other than the fact that one of my absolute favorite places to be is Roll Again. Especially when I get to play against you,” he says, leaning closer to me as well.
I nod so many times my head might roll off. “I understand that. I love playing against you too.”
“I don’t know what the rest of this summer is going to look like. But absolutely everything is changing, and I’ve been thinking…that means that I want as much of it to stay the same as long as it can.” He takes a deep breath. “Ifit can,” he adds, withdrawing again, tangled up in thoughts I’m not privy to.
“If it can?”
“And right now it’s hard not to feel like I’m also somehow causing a rift between you and your sister.”
This catches me completely off guard. “What does Amelia have to do with anything?”
“You’re mad at her,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“Sure, yeah, but we’re not, like,fighting. This is just the same normal shit it’s always been. Which has nothing to do with you?”
“But I’m not exactly helping the situation,” he points out, digging in his heels, the wheels in his brain spinning way off the track. “You’re mad that she left you here withme.”
“No, I’m happy to be here with you.” My expression isn’t too delighted right now, however.
There’s a loud noise from the arcade area, and the two girls come running out, bickering and shoving each other to get to the worker at the desk. She must be their parent or caretaker, because she shushes them and quickly plays mediator before sending them back to the games with a few more quarters.
I turn to Declan, still confused about where he’s going with all this. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“That everything’s complicated, and I don’t wantyouto be complicated.” His eyes are wide, earnest.
Yet I respond with a fighting tone. “So now I’m complicated?”
“No, that’s not—”
“Or you’re saying that I’m easy?” I ask, lashing out with the opposite. “But somehow that still doesn’t mean things are simple enough for you?”
He’s stern again, jaw set, brow furrowed. Where is he going with all this? I miss happy-go-lucky Declan. Maybe he’s the one who’s too complicated, honestly; this does feel like a projection. “Iris, that’s not at all what I’m saying.”
