Shea

My head is spinning as I toss the keys onto the counter. The kitchen is dim, smelling of chopped parsley and other herbs. My stomach doesn't feel well after consuming the milkshake. However, I feel no guilt drinking and enjoying it—even if I'm paying the price now. Although I hate processed foods or drinks, they're good in moderation.

Dairy, though? Yeah, I'm fucked later.

Ordering the milkshake was a stupid move.

However, thoughts about processed foods can only infatuate my mind for so long.

Brenna's words still echo in my head.

You are not a feminist. You're far from it, Shea. Though I will give you props for trying.

Her words piss me off a little. Is trying not enough? Do I not qualify as an ally if I'm trying?

The answer is obviously no.

Fuck, Brenna would murder me if she could read my mind.

After rifling through the fridge for five minutes, I decide on a quick ramen bowl. There are leftover ramen noodles from last night's stir fry, as well as some chopped bok choy and snow peas. All I have to do is make a quick broth.

Leaving the leftover noodles and veggies in their containers, I grab a pot from the corner cupboard. I set it on the stove with a dollop of olive oil. Next, I dice some garlic, shallots, onions, and ginger. After they're in the pot, I let them sweat for a bit, adding some salt and pepper. The aroma filling the kitchen soon has my mouth watering.

In a separate bowl, I combine some chicken stock and bonito flakes. Which I then add to the pot.

I feel like a fool for cooking close to midnight.

But my stomach needs something other than that damn milkshake.

To the broth, I add some konbu soy sauce, miso, mirin, and a splash of sriracha sauce. It's not your typical ramen, but I'm working with what I have in the fridge. Which is... diverse. When Dad is a father, he's a decent cook. He's always open to trying new recipes from different countries. My cooking skills are one attribute I'm proud of inheriting.

As soon as the broth is steaming, I add in the noodles and veggies. I'm careful with how much time I give to the noodles and veggies. Then, I remove the pot from the heat and turn the stove off. Veggies are better when they're crunchy. Mushy noodles are gross, too.

I fill a deep-set bowl with the ramen. I add some green onions, red chili oil, and bean sprouts. It smells delicious. I'm hoping it'll counteract the dairy I shouldn't have consumed.

If I'm awake until three with an upset stomach... The milkshake was worth it.

Even if I'm mildly lactose-intolerant.

Before sitting down to eat, I clean the kitchen. The process doesn't take long. Someone emptied the dishwasher before they went to bed. A rare finding these days. Usually, I'm the one cleaning the kitchen—even if I did the cooking. I miss the days when our family had rules. Whoever made dinner didn't have to clean the kitchen.

After the kitchen is clean, I head to the living room. I tuck my laptop beneath my arm and the bowl balances in my hand. I set my belongings down on the coffee table. Then I grab the remote and turn on replays of tonight's hockey games. Right now, they're showing the recap of the Habs versus Bruins game.

I keep the TV on mute. Chelsea is a light sleeper. The echo of the TV could wake her up, which would be a disadvantage for me. Once that kid is awake, she'll talk your ear off. That's the last thing I need right now. Especially after how tonight ended with Brenna.

Sighing, I open my laptop. She told me to research feminism. That's what I'm doing. Because Brenna has a point (damn her). She always has a point. Sometimes, I think she's too smart.

Or maybe you're just stupid.

I snort, rubbing the heel of my hand against my forehead. My mind taking a jab at me is funny. How the mind works it astounding. My gut feels otherwise. Guilt claws at the lining of it. Jealousy isn't an excuse to treat someone shitty. Favouring my sister doesn't make me a good person.

Taking a deep breath, I type in feminism.

I scroll through many websites. I use the school library's search engine to find peer-reviewed journals and scientific articles. Shit I can trust.

Hours pass.

It's like I've fallen down a rabbit hole and can't find my way out.

The articles are endless. Feminism is a complex topic, but it's not as complicated as I made it out to be. It's straightforward. The goal is to achieve equality for the sexes. I think... I think my comment about feminism being complicated resulted from my laziness. 

After a few articles, I understand one of the biggest problems. Women and underrepresented people, no matter the topic, are not responsible for educating people. One step to becoming an ally is to put in the effort. You need to actively build an understanding. Make mistakes and hold yourself accountable for them. Discuss topics that make you uncomfortable. Discuss them until you understand them. Treat people with the same respect you want directed at you.

One interesting article I read discusses the effects of birth control on women. With my lack of research, I always assumed there was nothing wrong with birth control pills. To me, birth control pills seemed... convenient. For guys who are interested in having sex, anyway. Many guys on the team discuss it. They complain about condoms. I just thought birth control pills would take that annoyance away. If neither of them have an STD, that is. 

Personally, sex hasn't crossed my mind. The way my life works, I don't have time for it. Let alone a romantic relationship. 

I continue to read through the alternatives to birth control. Frowning, I contemplate the options. If vasectomies are reversible... Huh. I lean back, rubbing my jaw. That might be something I decide to do once I turn eighteen. During my college years, if I ever meet someone, I don't want to get her pregnant. Ever. Starting a family isn't something I want until I can provide for my family.

I shake my head.

No—until we can provide for our family.

God. Undoing the patriarchy in my mind will take months.

I power through more information, my head spinning.

The diversity within feminism is shocking. Brenna wasn't kidding when she said it's rich with knowledge. The history is sickening. The issues they deal with... If the government and religions were to control my body... Fuck no. And now I understand why Brenna brought up intersectionality earlier. White feminism is toxic. It doesn't acknowledge the full spectrum; every disadvantage all women have.

If feminism doesn't apply to all women... Then it loses its value. 

Next time I glance at the clock, it's almost two-in-the-morning.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I shut off the bright TV and close my laptop. One night isn't enough time to learn. I have to give my mind a break or else I cannot absorb information.

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. I drop my face into my hands, groaning.

Fucking Brenna Harrison.

She called me out—and I deserved it. 

I have a long way to go.

I've seen the tip of the iceberg, but whatever lies beneath is still unknown.

* * *

The next day, I meet Brenna, KJ, and Jayden at the gym on the Westside.

Music thumps in the background as I buy a day pass. I've been to this gym a few times. It's not my favourite, but they have some excellent fitness classes I attend every once in a while. After I buy my day pass and I've changed, I head onto the main floor. It comprises various pieces of workout machines.

Ahead, I see Brenna, Jayden, and KJ at the weight benches.

KJ is sitting down. Sweat glistens on his forehead. Brenna is leaning against the machine, dragging her finger through the layer of dust atop the weights. Jayden stands in front of them. His back is to me, but I can tell his arms are crossed. A white Gatorade towel hangs over his shoulder. Judging by the KJ and Brenna's expressions, I have a feeling Jayden is lecturing them on something.

God, he's such a mom.

My thought pattern stops me in my tracks. I adjust the strap of my gym bag while running a hand through my hair. Saying Jayden is such a mom contributes to the patriarchy. It fuels the socially set roles women are expected to play. I'm also downplaying his personality. He cares about other people. It's who he is.

Fuck, why is deprogramming my mind so difficult? These thoughts just pop into my head. 

Sighing, I head over to my friends.

When KJ sees me, relief fills his features. He jumps to his feet and pushes past Jayden. Jayden stumbles, but he's laughing as he catches himself.

Yep, that bastard was lecturing them.

"Thank Christ," KJ says as he approaches me. He claps me on the back. "You just saved Harrison and I from Miller's TedTalk."

My mouth pulls to one side. I cock an eyebrow. "What was it about this time?"

KJ rolls his eyes. "Why cats are better than dogs. Like, I get it, bro. Cats are great. But dogs? They're way better. You can go hiking with them." He shoots daggers at Jayden. "It's not considered weird to have a dog on leash."

Jayden leans next to Brenna, crossing his arms. The sly smirk on his lips is meant to irk KJ. It works because KJ clenches his jaw. They're goading each other. 

"I take my cat on hikes," Jayden says. "Every time I grab the leash, Hades comes running to the door. His favourite is Knox Mountain."

Brenna wrinkles her nose. "Your cat's name is Hades?"

"Yeah," Jayden shrugs. "He's a black cat with an attitude. Hades is an excellent name."

Brenna contemplates his explanation. She eventually nods and agrees it's a suitable name.

KJ rolls his eyes.

"For the record," Brenna grins, exchanging a glance with Jayden. "I agree with Jayden."

I rub my jaw, thinking back to Peaches. Cats are better than dogs. They're independent animals. I have to admit, I also love snuggling with Peaches. In the winter, she always cuddles with me while I'm lounging on the couch watching a hockey game. For me, cats are more appealing.

There must be a look on my face, because KJ speaks next.

"No," KJ groans, his face falling. A desperate crease forms between his brows. "Smith. You can't disappoint me like this. No. Come on, bro."

Amused, I make eye contact with Brenna. The corner of her mouth quirks. I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from smiling. "Sorry, Jones. I've got to side with Harrison and Miller. Right now, cats work better for me. Dogs are great. I just prefer cats."

KJ glances at the ceiling. "Well goddamn you guys."

Brenna and Jayden snicker while I toss my bag to the ground in amongst theirs. I survey the area. "What are we doing today? Aside from discussing how to eliminate Connor?"

Jayden's eyes widen. He makes a T with his hands. "Dude. Time out. Eliminate? That sounds—"

Brenna interrupts him. "Hey. No body, no crime, right?"

We all look at Brenna. My eyes travel from her face down to her clothing. She's dressed in high-waisted black leggings and a red sports bra. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun. My gaze flicks back to her face. Her expression is neutral. 

A look must cross my face because she rolls her eyes. "I'm joking. Throttling that chauvinistic pig would be pleasing, though. Luckily, I'm too pretty for prison. Anyway, we need to catch him in the act. Shea, before you arrived—and before the topic went off course—we were discussing the upcoming party. For..." She trails off, glancing at Jayden. "Who's birthday is it, again?"

"Preston's," Jayden replies.

His tone mirrors the disgust in my chest. Connor's the worst and Preston's a close second. If Brenna and I hadn't of played mini-golf last night, I would've thrown fists. Connor and Preston piss me off. Around them, I lose control of my temper.

"Right," Brenna nods. "You all need to go. At some point, he'll gloat about the bet. Right, Shea?"

"Yes," I reply through gritted teeth. Handling Connor's gloating isn't something I'm good at. I'll manage, though. There isn't a choice. "He takes the opportunity when he sees fit."

Brenna nods again. "Okay. All we need to do is get a video. Make sure he states his goal."

KJ climbs onto one bench and lays down. He taps Brenna's shin with his foot. "Spot me, Harrison."

Brenna doesn't look pleased with KJ changing the subject, but she spots for KJ. While KJ's lifting, he continues. "I like this plan. However, there's one flaw. Connor also likes to make sure Shea looks like an asshole. He undermines. If Connor pulls Shea down with him, how do we fix that?"

KJ does five more reps before Jayden responds.

"Shea can use us as allies."

Brenna presses her lips together. "Your voices will lose credibility because of me. Or they will silence my voice." She rubs her arms. "Whoever we tell will not like my involvement."

An eerie, tense silence settles between the four of us. KJ gestures for Brenna to set the barbell back on the rack. He then sits up. Sweat drips down his temples. Jayden's gaze is focused on the floor. He's rubbing his neck.

My mind flitters back to last night's rabbit hole. Anyone we tell will press for answers. They'll ask Brenna questions like What did you do to deserve this? and What were you wearing? As if Brenna's the cause of this stupid bet. She was teasing Connor in her leggings, and he decided to retaliate. As if I didn't cause this whole disaster. 

It makes me feel sick. If I were in Brenna's situation and people asked me questions like that, I'd lose my mind.

"Then maybe you play stupid?" KJ suggests. "Man, I don't know. This is fucked up." He glances at me. "Why did you let your drunk mouth do the talking?"

I roll my eyes. "Gee, I don't know, Jones. My sober one must've gone on vacation for the evening."

Jayden snorts.

Brenna smiles, turning her gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The golden afternoon rays of sunshine are magnified through the windows. Thank God this place has air conditioning. Otherwise, it would be a sweatbox.

Windows aside, there's something funny about Brenna's smile. It doesn't reach her eyes. She almost looks... vulnerable. It's difficult to wrap my head around. When we have proof of Connor's psychotic games, evidence will back Brenna's words. She must know this. I don't understand why she seems worried. Or why she thinks her voice will alter the credibility.

Brenna must feel my eyes on her because she glances at me. Our gaze holds for several seconds.

"I'm still pissed at you," Brenna says.

A crease forms between my brows. I understand why she's pissed. However, I thought we were past this. What's done is done. At least I told her and we've been mature about this. We agreed to bring Connor down.

"Why?" I ask.

To my right, Jayden snorts. When I glance at him, he's staring at the floor. He's shaking his head. "Really, Shea? That's the stupidest question I've heard leave your mouth. Brenna shouldn't be part of this."

Feeling exasperated, I throw my hands up in the air. "I didn't cause this shit!"

That's a lie, but I still say it anyway. 

"But you did," Jayden argues.

Brenna and Jayden exchange a glance. One that pisses me off. Why the hell is he looking at her like that? I clench my jaw. Why is she looking at him like that? 

Before I can say another word, Jayden continues on. "I'll cut you some slack. Connor proposed the plan. However, you agreed without asking for Brenna's permission. Do you think she wanted to be part of this?"

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth. Fuck Jayden for having a point. "Fine. You have a point. If she doesn't want to partake, then she can back out."

Brenna shakes her head. "We're bringing Connor down, Smith. I made that decision. You had no right to drag me into this, though. And while I'm not fond of your friends, I do like these two. If I can help prevent Connor from breaking Jayden's nose again or side lining Kaleb, then I'll play the part."

Sighing, Brenna sits down on the bench. "Look," she continues. "All I'm saying is you could've told me at the beginning. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you told me. Next time you decide to wade through shit, though, Smith, tell the other person before you try to play the game, okay? It saves everyone drama."

She doesn't give me a chance to respond. Instead, she continues on. "Catch him on video. After that, we report him. Hopefully, it'll be enough to kick Connor out of the league. Without hockey, that boy is nothing."

None of us speak another word. All we do is nod in agreement.

Taking away someone's passion makes me feel uneasy. But I remind myself Connor doesn't deserve any recognition by his name. He's dragging us down. He's driving us into the mud. All because Brenna and I are a threat. Connor's weak and scared. He's an asshole. 

The next time I make eye contact with Brenna, she nods. The neutral gaze in her eyes sends shivers down my spine.

It's safe to say she's not joking around.