Page 63 of The Substitute

“Excuse me?” I object.

Teddy points at me again. “You’re the one that brought up breeding at Thanksgiving dinner!” He turns to Dad again. “Seriously, do you have meat right now? I’m starving.”

Rhys sighs and probably pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You asked me if you were breedable! We have to have some boundaries in this house!” It needed to happen, and I was hoping a little shame would make the madness stop. It did not.

“That was a fun conversation,” Rhys chuckles, and I can hear guys in the background, so I assume he’s doing hockey things.

“I’m on a diet for hockey. I’m trying to gain fifteen pounds so I have a shot at the NHL, and all of you are sabotaging my journey!” Teddy yells at everyone like he’s validating trying to electrocute himself in the tub.

I sigh and lean my hip against the counter.

Tobi: More than I would like to admit. The last one was apparently my fault but he asked me if he was breedable, so I’m saying its on him.

Ambrose: I don’t know where to start to unpack that. Your family sounds interesting.

Tobi: We’re apparently sabotaging his journey to the NHL.

Ambrose: His journey to the underworld maybe.

I smile at my phone and shake my head. Fuck, I wish he was here right now.

“How can I bathe if you’re preventing me from eating in here?” Teddy sounds like he’s arguing for the right to continue breathing, and it’s hilarious.

“The two are not mutually exclusive.” Dad tries, but there’s no arguing with Teddy when he’s like this. I’m honestly surprised anyone still tries.

“Getting in all my calories and proper mediation time in a day is hard!” Teddy is getting worked up which is not going to end well.

“Mediation? What are we mediating?” Dad asks.

“I’m mediating with a higher power! Can’t you see the peace I’ve found?!” Teddy is basically hysterical at this point, and I’m not seeing the peace. “You’re stressing me out so bad, I need my shower sandwich!”

“Does he mean meditating?” I mutter, but no one is listening while Teddy is yelling.

“I don’t know why you think I need to be exclusive with my bath to eat in it, but I’ll have you know it’s hard to eat fourthousand calories in a day. I basically can’t stop eating.” Teddy harrumphs back in the bath, making more water slosh onto the floor. “And I can’t be the runt of the goalies, Dad.”

“How is that different from any other day?” I scoff.

“I used to take breaks to sleep.”

“Is that why I keep finding crumbs in the fucking bed?” Rhys demands to Teddy.

I look toward the phone and ask, “There’s sauce stains on the sheets, aren’t there?”

“All of you are shitting on my dreams,” Teddy groans, and Rhys sighs.

“As long as you’re not shitting in my tub, you’ll get over it.” Mom claps her hands.

“I only did that once!” Teddy turns on her with outrage. “And I was two!”

“You have your own apartment—why are you here?” Dad asks, leaning against the sink.

“Because Rhys won’t let me bathe in peace and higher powers!”

We all turn to look at screen Rhys, who says deadpan, “I took the toaster oven.”

“The bath is my sanitarium!” Teddy hollers.