COOPER
I graduated high school today, so I guess that kind of makes me an adult now. Or maybe not. I definitely don’t feel like one, nor do I think I want to.
The beer in my hand is cold but tastes like a troll’s morning piss, so I dump it down the kitchen drain and grab a blue Gatorade from the fridge instead.
The house is loud, crowded, and hot despite the air conditioning blowing on full blast. Happy Graduation banners and streamers are hung everywhere, and a half-eaten cake is on the dining room table that I’m surprised my dad hasn’t put away yet.
I jump, surprised when something pulls at my leg. Look down, I find my little sister, Amelia, smiling at me with a toothy grin. Her red hair is decorated with a yellow bow and a miniature ponytail at the top of her head that resembles water shooting out of a whale.
I crouch down to her level and say, “Well, aren’t you a pretty girl. Did Mama do your hair like that? There’s no way Dada did.”
I try not to cringe at the baby terms. We’re all on strict orders from “Dada” to use baby words as much as possible to help Ames learn how to speak. It seems a bit premature if you ask me, but oh well.
“Dada did do her hair, actually,” I hear from the entryway. “And put that blue drink away. The orange ones are yours.”
I look at my dad and roll my eyes. “You can keep telling me not to drink the blue ones, but I will always sneak them when you’re not looking.”
“You’re a little shit.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s me.”
Scarlett’s voice rings through the kitchen as she yells for Amelia. The toddler takes off, her tiny legs wobbling as she walks.
I stand and grip the drink in my hand. Dad watches me curiously for a moment before walking past me to the cupboard above the fridge and rooting around in it.
Being a little over six feet tall, I can watch everything he’s doing. “You thirsty, old man?”
“No. But if you’re not into beer, you should have the option of having something else. It’s your graduation. Have fun instead of sitting inside drinking Gatorade. Dox is already drunk enough to have told his dad he’s no longer a virgin, and he’s not the one with the diploma yet.”
“No shit. Actually?” I lean back against the counter, my chest shaking with a laugh.
With a full bottle of Jack in his hand, Dad turns to face me. “Yep. Ava’s out back trying to coax him into drinking a bottle of water. I guess I don’t have to worry about that with you, my little homebody.”
I grab the bottle from his hand and twist off the cap before taking a huge gulp. It immediately burns my throat, and I spin around, coughing up a lung into the sink.
“Strong?” Dad chokes on a laugh.
I throw him a punishing glance over my shoulder. “You’re a jackass.”
“Who, me?” He blinks. I shove the bottle back at him, and he grins. “Usually you mix it with something, not drink it straight, hotshot.”
“You know, this is why I don’t drink.”
“No, you don’t drink because you don’t want to end up like your best friend out there. You should really go save him from his parents before he ends up spilling a lot more than just losing his V card. I don’t think Ava could take hearing that stuff about her baby boy.”
“No, she definitely couldn’t,” I agree. Suddenly, Dad slaps a hand over my shoulder and pulls me into a sudden hug. I return it easily. “What’s this for? Not being able to stand the taste of booze?”
“No. It’s because I love you, and I’m proud of you. You’re a high school graduate with an admission to university in the fall with an art scholarship. Sue me for wanting to hug the shit out of you.”
The sound of footsteps in the kitchen joins us before another set of arms wrap around me from the side. The smell of cherry blossoms clues me in that it’s SP.
“I know you weren’t having an ‘I’m proud of you’ moment without me,” she mumbles, tightening her grip on me.
A feeling of appreciation and love has me slipping an arm around her shoulders and bringing her further into our hug. “No way. I would have come and collected my SP moment right after this. I swear.”
She hums. “Right. That’s what I thought.”
“Cooper the pooper!” Maddox’s baritone voice hollers.
“Is he yelling from the backyard and still that loud?” Scarlett asks no one in particular.
My dad laughs and breaks up the hug. “Yes. Yes, he is.” He looks at me. “Go, pooper. You’re being beckoned.”
“Call me pooper again and you’re going to feel my wrath, Dad.”
“What if I call you pooper?” Scarlett asks innocently.
I grab my blue drink from the counter and walk backward to the door, grinning. “Nu-uh. You won’t catch me giving special treatment. It’s a parent rule and goes for both of you, got it?”
I find Maddox sitting on the grass in the backyard. He’s wearing a ball cap backward like always and has his button-up under his ass, leaving him shirtless. The tattoo he just got on his sixteenth birthday is still covered in a clear wrapping, hidden from view in the dark of the backyard.
A girl with wild black curls and a hockey jacket with the name Hutton hung over her shoulders is beside him, close but not too close. She reaches toward him and pulls his ball cap off his head before pushing it over her hair. It looks like it’s on the verge of popping right off.
“Braxton Heights, when the hell did you show up?” I ask, walking in front of them and flopping down on the grass.
Ice-blue eyes meet mine when she looks at me, smiling gently. Her dimples have popped out, like they always do. That girl smiles like she’s paid to do it. Unlike Maddox. If looks could kill, I’d be meeting Death right about now as he glares at me for simply talking to her. As if we haven’t all been best friends since elementary school.
“A few minutes ago. I’m sorry I missed your ceremony. I was stuck babysitting my sister because my dad’s out in Vegas dealing with one of his clients. You know how it is with free-agent signings,” she says.
Her father, Roy Heights, is an agent for several pro hockey players. One of the guys known to latch onto big money opportunities like a low-level leech. He’s not respected in the industry, but neither Dox nor I have ever told her that.
Dox grunts, and I swear I see him move his arm behind her. “You say that like he’s not always gone. Busy season or not.”
She sighs. “Don’t start. Not tonight. It’s Cooper’s big day!”
“I graduated high school, Brax. I didn’t get married or unveil one of my paintings in the Louvre.”
“Not yet. But that’s beside the point. It’s still a big milestone, Cooperoni,” she says.
“God, I hate that nickname,” I groan and lie back on the grass.
“Too bad I’m never going to stop saying it,” she sings.
The stars are out tonight, decorating the dark sky like white paint flicked on an empty black canvas. Cassiopeia winks at me before I turn my head and look at my friends.
Neither of them has any interest in stars, or anything that doesn’t involve sports in Maddox’s case, or animals in Braxton’s. They’re both a bit narrow-minded, but somehow, we all get along as if they were into everything I am.
Maybe how different we are is why we work so well together. The Three Musketeers, as my aunt Ava calls us. We’ve always meshed, clicked on a molecular level despite the small age difference between me and them. We’ve fought and made up more times than I can count, but no matter what happens, we are never apart for too long.
I can’t help but wonder if that will change when Maddox makes his move on her—which I know he will. He’s been in love with her since before his balls dropped. Brax, on the other hand, she’s harder to read. And that’s what scares me.
I like our dynamic now. Yeah, I’m older and soon will be off to university while they’re still living in the hell that is high school, but I have faith that won’t be the cause of our inevitable change.
And as I watch Dox look at our best friend with a deep-rooted desire that I’ve seen countless times when Dad looks at SP, I know my fears might become a reality sooner than I’d like.
