Page 4 of Kind of Cursed
His whole body sags. “I hate water.”
“You’re made of mostly water.”
Emmett screws up his face and looks at me through his long bangs. The kid needs a haircut. When was the last time he had one? How often should he get one? It’s shit like this I haven’t figured out yet.
“I’m mostly made ofwater?”His look of bewilderment is priceless, and I wish he’d hold it long enough for me to snap a picture with my phone. But he doesn't. And who would I show it to anyway?
“All humans are,” I say, tucking my self-pitying thoughts away. We make our way to the concession stand.
“What about dogs?” he asks a moment later.
“Dogs too.”
He giggles. “Even Clarence?”
I grin. “Even Clarence.”
“I figured he was mostly gas.”
I try not to laugh because laughing at Emmett’s fart jokes only encourages him, but he sees me struggling and beams with pride.
“Get it?” he asks, digging in.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I get it. You’re too much.” We move to the front of the line and get our snacks. I lead him away from the concession crowd and scan the bleachers. “I wonder where Mattie is.”
“Probably hiding with her homework somewhere,” Emmett mutters.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I find us a spot in the stands with enough room for Mattie to join us and dig out my phone.
“Itisa bad thing,” Emmett says with conviction. He takes the popcorn from me and plants the bag on his lap. “Aboringthing.”
If he’s ready to talk about school, I’m ready to listen. I just have to find Mattie first. I tap out a message on my phone.
Me: At the soccer field. Where are you?
I grab a handful of popcorn and scan the field for Harry, making my question come out as casual as possible. “Is your homework boring?”
Emmett snorts like I’ve just said something ludicrous. “No. It’s dumb.”
My little brother gets his homework done—at least on the days he goes to school—because I make him. He sits at the kitchen table while I fix dinner, and it never takes him long. But if I didn’t drag it out of his book sack, he’d ignore it and probably fail. He may fail anyway, his counselor has warned me, if he misses too many more days.
But if school is boring and dumb, maybe he needs more of a challenge. Maybe I should ask the counselor about having him tested for gifted. Mattie and Harry are in the gifted program here at Lafayette High. I did it too when I was in school. Maybe Emmett is ready for that now.
“Do you think school is boring?” I ask, still not looking at him, but I’ve said thesword. Classic misstep. Even out of the corner of my eye, I watch his shoulders slump.
“I don’t want to talk about school.”
“Well, we probably should.” But even as I say it, the Lions kick off the game, and I know I’ve lost him.
“Let’s watch,” he says. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
I sigh just as my phone chirps. I glance down.
Mattie: In the library. Can I stay here and finish? Be done in about 20.
I stifle another sigh. She’ll miss most of the first half. I know I shouldn’t complain. She’s in the library finishing her homework.
But going to Harry’s games has always been a family thing. Just like Mattie’s recitals and Emmett’s T-ball. Mom and Dad thought it was important for us to do stuff like that together. Living in a different city while I was in school meant I didn’t share this the same way, but if I was home visiting, I was expected to go too. We all were.
