When My Stepbrothers Say Stop

THREE

Nathan and I sat on the sidelines, though I could barely tell what they were practicing.

The whistles, shouts, and clash of pads blurred together, looking from a distance like chaos without shape. But after watching for a while, I began to see that the chaos had its own order. Before I could make sense of it, it had already changed direction.

Neil had his helmet on and the ball in his hands. The pads made his shoulders look broader, his whole body taller and steadier than it did at home. The others had already taken their places: some bent slightly at the waist, some staring ahead, all of them seeming to wait for his signal.

The coach said something from far away. I could not hear it. Neil only lifted his head and swept his eyes over the field, as if checking something. In that moment, he felt nothing like the person he was at home. There was no smile, none of that careless ease he usually carried. Instead, he looked focused, almost serious.

He called the play.

Almost at once, everyone snapped into motion.

The pace rushed forward so quickly my eyes could barely keep up. Neil took two clean steps back. Several players crowded together in front of him, the space tightening all at once, but he did not panic. The moment his hand rose, the ball was gone.

Someone caught it far down the field, and a shout immediately rang out, bright with excitement.

“Nice,” Nathan said beside me.

Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath.

Neil stopped, bent over, and braced his hands on his knees. Someone ran past and slapped him lightly on the back. He straightened, pulled off his helmet with one hand, and pushed back the hair flattened over his forehead. Sunlight fell just then. He narrowed his eyes slightly, his breathing not yet steady, the line of his profile clear and sharp in the light.

He looked up at a teammate, smiled, and lifted his hand for a fist bump.

In that moment, the coolness he had carried on the field seemed to scatter all at once, and he became the Neil I knew again. But I had already seen the other side of him: the one who could set everyone else in motion.

Watching him, I suddenly understood why everyone had been looking at him.

The players around Neil soon dispersed, though a few still stayed close, talking to him. Someone laughed and clapped his shoulder; someone else ran past and brushed him lightly on the arm. He answered a couple of times, his voice lost in the noise of the field. Nathan looked over, picked up a bottle of water beside him, and said to me, as if he had just remembered something,

“I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and watched him walk toward Neil. When Nathan handed him the water, Neil did not even fully turn his head, as if he had known Nathan would come over. He simply reached out and took it. Nathan said something in a low voice. Neil’s drinking paused for a second, then he lowered his head and smiled, as if Nathan had called him out on something.

The way they spoke to each other was easy, as if they had long been used to this rhythm. One handed over the water; the other took it. One spoke; the other seemed too lazy to argue, yet could not help smiling. The familiarity between them was so natural that, standing there at the edge of the field and watching, I suddenly felt a little strange in a way I could not name.

I was just about to gather my things and go over to them when a girl’s voice came from behind me.

“You’re new, right?”

I turned around. Two girls were standing there, looking at me. They were dressed simply, in T-shirts and jeans, their hair tied back in loose, casual styles. There were smiles on their faces, but not the kind that felt truly friendly. It was more like they had already heard something and had come over specifically to confirm it.

“Yes,” I said.

They looked at each other, as if they had finally matched me to some rumor. One of them smiled, her tone light, almost conversational.

“So you’re the new girl living at his house?”

I did not answer right away.

She smiled again. “That makes sense.”

I frowned a little. “What does?”

She looked toward the field. Neil was standing not far away, still holding the bottle of water, his hair made even messier by the sunlight.

“Neil doesn’t just bring random girls to practice.”

I didn’t say anything.

As if she had not noticed, she added, “But I guess it’s easy when you live under the same roof.”

She said it softly, as if it were nothing at all. But in that instant, the sounds around me seemed to slow. The whistles, the shouting, the thud of the ball against the ground were all still there, yet they felt suddenly distant, as if something had come between me and the field.

“What did you just say?”

The voice dropped in from ahead of me.

I froze. When I looked up, Neil was already walking toward us, his hair still carrying that just-off-the-field messiness, his breathing not yet fully even. Nathan was beside him, his expression still calm, but the way he stood there made him impossible to ignore.

The two girls clearly paused.

“Nothing,” one of them said with a smile. “Why are you so serious?”

Neil looked at her. He did not smile.

“Then keep it nothing.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but there was no room in it for argument.

The other girl looked annoyed now, folding her arms as she looked at him. “Neil, seriously? She’s just new. We were talking.”

Neil’s eyes did not move from her.

“You knew what you were doing.”

The air went stiff.

“Enough,” Nathan said.

His voice was not raised, but it landed exactly after Neil’s words. He did not keep looking at the girls. He simply took the bag from my hands as naturally as if the matter were already over.

“Let’s go.”

I followed him out.

Neil did not hesitate either. He left with us.

Once we were off the field, the air outside felt a little cooler. The noises from before still lingered in my ears, but they were quickly pulled away. None of us spoke first. It was as if the whole thing had been cut off by Nathan’s quiet Let’s go, and yet it had not truly disappeared. It had only followed us out of the field and settled silently between the three of us.

After we had walked a little way, Neil suddenly stopped and looked at a small shop by the road.

“Ice cream?”

I followed his gaze. It was an ice cream shop.

Nathan did not answer. He simply turned in that direction, as if that was agreement enough. We followed him inside. The shop was cool, and the air smelled sweet. Neil ordered quickly, as if he had known what he wanted before we walked in. Nathan glanced at the menu and chose something simple. I stood at the counter for a moment, hesitated, and finally picked the plainest flavor.

When we came out, the sunlight was a little bright.

We stood outside for a while, none of us in a hurry to leave. Neil said something while eating, but I did not really catch it. I only saw that the corners of his mouth still carried a little of the irritation he had not quite shaken off. Nathan stood on my other side, ice cream in one hand, his expression so calm it was as if nothing had happened. But he still had not given my bag back, as though some part of what had happened had naturally become his to carry.

I looked down at the ice cream in my hand and suddenly said,

“Don’t tell Cindy and Eric about what happened.”

They both stopped.

I looked up for a moment, then quickly looked away.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said.

Nathan looked at me. “Eric won’t see it that way.”

I knew he was right.

Eric usually seemed easygoing, but if he knew I had been talked about like that when I had only just come here, he would not treat it as nothing.

I smiled a little and took another bite of ice cream.

“That’s why we’re not telling him.”

Nathan did not answer right away. He looked at Neil, then said nothing more.

And so the whole thing stayed between the three of us.

No one brought it up again.

But I knew that from that moment on, I was no longer only the person who had been brought into this house.