"I'm going to kill you, Taylor Stefan Perkio," Craig yelled at his brother after he hung up the phone. "Why the hell would you tell your teacher that? Now I have to go to a frigging therapy group."
Taylor heard his brother use his full name the same way their mom used to do when she was mad about something he had done.
He knew why his brother was mad and he timidly stepped around the corner, into the same room as his brother.
"I'm sorry." Taylor shrugged his shoulders. "I needed an excuse for why I was failing, or they would have kicked me off the football team. Since I blamed it on you not being able to watch me based on your issue, they let it slide and are giving me an extension on several assignments. Well, as long as you address your addiction right away."
"This is flipping nuts!" Craig screamed. "People will think I really have an addiction, and what the hell did you tell them I have anyways?"
"That's the thing. The school can't disclose anything to anyone, and they can't ask you if it's like drugs or alcohol or whatever?" Taylor grinned. "It's no big deal. One session I think, they sign a form, and you're out of there. Mike did it to his father, it worked, and it was no big deal."
"Yeah, and you skate off, free and clear, when you should be studying. You tell lies and I look like white trash," said Craig annoyed. "You're like a lying machine and now I'm apparently an addict. How long do you think all this can last?"
"As long as I need it to get out of this grade," said Taylor, patting his brother. "Relax, bro. Just do this tonight. I'll drop the form off at school tomorrow and it's over. They're letting us out after half a day tomorrow before the weekend, so I doubt they'll have time to ask a question about it. My teacher's heading to the beach right after school, so she'll stamp it, file it away and it'll be over. Guaranteed she'll be more worried about her tan than your addiction."
"We'll talk more about it later after I do this crap for you. Get your gear and I'll drop you at practice, but you'll need to walk over and meet me at this stupid therapy session after practice," Craig shook his head. "It's only two blocks away and don't be late, because I plan on getting out of there as soon as possible."
"No problem, big bro," said Taylor laughing as he turned away. "Thanks."
"No, it is a problem, but you're lucky I'm doing this for you. You little shit," said Craig, messing his brother's wild hair. "Last time though. I can't keep living these lies for you, and get a freaking haircut already. You're looking like you're in a band."
"You mean I look super cool, bro?" asked Taylor. "Only the idiot Soccer players have buzzed heads. Football kids are rad."
Craig drove his brother to practice and dropped him off.
"Don't forget to hurry over so I can leave as soon as possible. You owe me, Taylor, big time."
Craig then reluctantly headed to the therapy session.