Page 8 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

“Ryan, that leaves you with—”

“Extracurriculars?” I grumbled.

“Exactly,” she said.

Ms. Tabatabai looked up at all of us finally, a smile stretched across her face as she snatched up her coffee cup. What was in that thing? Red Bull and crack?

“You’re all veterans,” she said after a healthy slug of her drink, whatever it happened to be, “so I won’t keep you any longer today. If you have any questions, though—”

The sounds of us gathering up our books and bags and sliding out of our seats gave Ms. Tabatabai all the information she needed. With an approving nod, she snatched up her folders and tucked them under her arm before dashing out of the room once again. Posters fluttered once more in the Iranian Breeze—as we often called Ms. Tabatabai when she was in a rush—and then she was gone. Jillian, Marcia, Barry, and Ben all became a cacophony of voices and a tornado of gesticulating appendages as they hurried out of the room together, discussing their new assignments and the extraordinary ideas they were already formulating.

“Well,” Davud looked up at me, still parked at the table, “that had to be the shortest Journalism Club meeting ever.”

“Except the one during sophomore year where she didn’t even show up.”

He snorted with amusement.

“Held up at Starbucks, right?” he asked.

“I think that’s the excuse she gave, yeah,” I said with a laugh. “Want a push out to the parking lot?”

I pumped my fists in front of myself and wiggled my hips comically. Davud chuckled and wheeled himself away from the table.

“No point,” he said. “Mom won’t be here for at least fifteen more minutes. Meetings usually last longer. May as well take my time getting to the door.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind taking you home. Just text your mom and tell her the meeting was short or whatever.”

“Nah,” he said with a wave. “I’ll have to get in your car, we’ll have to put the chair in your trunk, and—it’s not worth the hassle.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a hassle. Come on. Text your mom. I need people to think I’m able to get a hot guy to ride in my car with me.”

Davud laughed uproariously.

“Okay,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his phone as I ducked behind his chair to push him out of the room. “But if anyone sees us, I’m the top, bro. Gotta keep up my macho persona.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a laugh as we exited the room and I began pushing him quickly down the hall, almost at a sprint. “I’ll make sure everyone knows who calls the shots here.”

Juno’s headphone-adorned cranium was stuffed in the fridge and her ass was bopping around in the air when I walked into the house from school. I could hear the washing machine jostling violently in the laundry room. My sister had poor load distribution skills when filling a washing machine and it was only a matter of time before she singlehandedly made the thing blow up mid-cycle. Like all college freshmen, my sister had come home for the free laundry facilities and to commit nutritional larceny.

Instinctively, my first thought was to slip past my sister and hurry off to my room to do my homework before dinner. She couldn’t bug me if she didn’t know I was home. However, after the nearly inedible lunch at school, I had planned to raid the fridge, too. Something had to be stuffed down my gullet if I was going to make it to dinner without getting weak and falling out. Juno’s music was turned up so loud I could tell she was listening to Megan Thee Stallion as she scoped out her snack possibilities.

Hopefully, my sister hadn’t gotten so immersed in her music that she had forgotten what she was doing. If I timed things perfectly and slipped in behind her as she stepped away from the fridge, it was possible she wouldn’t even notice my presence. Whenever she got distracted by her music, she was fairly oblivious to everything else going on around her. Then again, older sisters seem to have a sixth sense for when younger siblings are around. Their Spidey Sense tingles and the overwhelming compulsion to bully kicks in immediately.

When Juno’s body froze, her head still in the fridge and her ass still up in the air, I knew she had sensed me.

Was it my deodorant?

That was impossible. Everyone wears different deodorants and body sprays, but older siblings always sense the presence of younger siblings. It had to be a pheromone that all kids give off if they have siblings. It seems to be the same pheromone that triggers the flight or fight response because Juno always seemed to be considering violence towards me.

I made a break for it, trying to dash through the kitchen into the living room while still somehow looking casual, but I had hesitated too long. Juno stood up rigidly and turned her head, an evil smile creeping across her face as her headphones blared in her ears.

Why hadn’t I dashed from the garage to the living room once I had parked my car and entered the house?

“Little brother,” Juno said. Loudly.

I looped my fingers through the arm straps of my backpack and responded to her comment with what I hoped was a blank stare.

“You can’t talk?” Juno scream-spoke at me and shoved her fists into her hips.