Crap. Crap. Crap! Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?
The look in those shocked azure eyes spoke of utter betrayal. I have to say something. I have to make it right. "Jordi, wait. I didn't mean to—"
"I think you've said enough already." Winnie blocks me like a protective pit bull—murderous eyes shooting daggers at me—before addressing my mother in in clipped voice. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Jensen. I'm sorry to cut our visit short, but we must be going."
Winnie doesn't bother waiting for a response and drags her friend to the front door. As she ushers Jordi through, she glances back, dark eyes registering regret as they rest on Tai. Without another word, she steps out, clicking the door shut behind her.
The only sounds come from the cartoon playing in the other room and the occasional burst of laughter from Chuck in the back yard.
"Dude, what the hell?" The incredulous look on Tai's usually calm face only reinforces what I already know: I really screwed it up this time.
"Jordi is dyslexic?" Mom's voice loses its edge and sounds confused instead.
"I don't know for sure, but it might explain the—" I stop myself before admitting I've seen her less-than-stellar grades.
"Might explain what?" She gazes steadily at me, her expression hard to read.
"Um, just some things I've noticed."
"Like what?"
Just then one of the twins shrieks from the other room.
"I'd better go check on them." I hurry away, relieved and eager to remove myself from her line of questioning.
Aunt Stacy is already there, scolding Lucas for trying to bite Logan.
"I'm a piranha!" Lucas's teeth snap at the air even as she pulls him away.
She gives me a tired look. "Why is it that toddlers are genetically programmed to imitate what they see on TV?"
I shrug and give her a weak smile.
She glances into the other room and then back to me. "Look," she keeps her voice low. "I know my sister can be a bit..." She chews on her lip. "Well, you know. But remember she loves you. She's just looking out for you the only way she knows how. Our mom was the same way."
My head tilts slightly. "But you're not like that."
She shrugs, balancing Lucas on her hip. "She's the oldest. She took the brunt of it."
I nod and sigh. "I guess I'd better go back. You got this?"
Logan, bottom lip protruding after being bitten, throws a whiffle ball at his brother. It sails past Stacy's elbow and bounces off the TV. "Barely, but yes. Go talk to her."
I debate sneaking off to my room and avoiding the whole conversation altogether. But that's what the old me would do. I may have destroyed any chance I had with Jordi, but it doesn't mean I have to revert to being an emotional turtle again. I need to learn to stand up to my mother and talk to her like a normal son instead of spewing abhorrent statements out of pent-up rage. Bottling things has always been my problem. It never felt safe to share my feelings, so I never did.
I contemplate the pouty Logan, who still sits on the floor, hunting around for another toy to throw at his wicked brother. He may not talk much yet, but he's still expressing himself the way he knows how. Throwing toys is obviously not appropriate for me, but I need to find my own way to communicate.
I glance into the other room.
"You can do it," Stacy encourages.
"Thanks."
With a steadying breath, I give a quick smile to my aunt, set my jaw, and trudge back to the living room to face my mother.
Here, Seth, have a fortifying vote. You're gonna need it.