His mother’s voice ripped though his sleep like it was a school morning. “Rise and shine!”
Groggy and confused, he opened his eyes.
“I gotta go.” She stood over him, already dressed in her ugly brown and orange Phat Burger uniform. “Feed the General, okay?”
“Go away!” Socko moaned.
“As soon as you get your butt out of that bed.”
“Ten minutes.” He closed his eyes.
“Five.” She thumped back down the stairs.
“I don’t even want to be here!” he called after her. He covered his head with the pillow and rolled up on his side, the stretched canvas of the cot giving under him with a strained creak.
He slid back into sleep.
Thud … thud … thud He woke to the sound of Delia rocking up the stairs again.
“The General’s getting antsy! Get up, Socko. I have to leave!”
Today he would be babysitting a cranky old man. Tomorrow and the next day too. Every day, all summer. Great. Just great.
His mother fiddled with a button on the front of her blouse. “There’s a little problem with food. There’s only one burger left, and some dry cereal, no milk. Who knew a skinny old guy could eat so much supper?”
Socko didn’t mention all the food Damien had scarfed before they even hit the road.
“I’m on from seven to three. Tell him lunch will be late but plentiful.” She walked out the door.
He pushed up on his elbows. “How are you going to get home? There’s no bus!”
She stuck her head back in the room. “I’m working on it! Just make sure the General puts on some clothes. I’ve seen more old man than I can take before my first cup of coffee.”
“What?” Was she leaving him with a naked old guy?
“You can call Damien,” she added as she started down the stairs. “The phone’s on the kitchen counter. Just don’t talk too long.” Delia paid for minutes, or as she called them, “emergency minutes.”
Giving him permission to call Damien had to be her way of saying sorry I screwed up your entire life.
Was it too early to call? Yeah, probably—plus, the phone was downstairs with a naked old guy.
Socko heard the car start in the driveway, but he didn’t get to hear it drive off because downstairs the General started hacking like he was trying to get rid of a lung.
Socko stared at the white, white ceiling over his bed and the metal air-conditioner vent. No demented clown here.
“Hey, Sacko!”
Only a demented great-grandfather.
Could the old guy be all-the-way naked?
When Socko had gone to bed, Delia and the General were arguing. “I give you a house and what do I get? A vinyl chair instead of a bed!” Delia said she kind of thought he’d bring his own—and she didn’t know about the wheelchair when she’d picked a house with the bedrooms upstairs.
Had the General gotten so mad he’d taken his clothes off?
“Hey!” the voice scraped again. “Roll out, private!”
“Okay, okay. I’m up.” Socko stepped into the shorts he’d dropped by the bed and scuffed his feet into his sneakers.
Wary of what he was getting into, he crept down the stairs. He leaned over the railing to check out Delia’s recliner. A snot green afghan he’d never seen before spilled out of its seat and onto the floor, but the General wasn’t in it.
Socko slid into the living room. The old man sat turned away, his wheelchair facing the picture window. Above the chair, Socko could see bare shoulders and the knobby bones of the old man’s neck. Below, a pair of skinny bare calves. All the General seemed to be wearing was a pair of dingy crew socks. Was he flashing their new neighbors?
Socko wanted to snatch up the green afghan and drop it over the old man, but tangling with the General would probably be like picking up a stray cat.
The chair whipped around. “There you are!”
Socko drew a relieved breath—not that the view wasn’t scary. It definitely was. The hair the old man didn’t have on the top of his head grew white and wiry on his shoulders and chest. It waved in the breeze from the air-conditioner.
The good news was the General had on plaid boxers.
“What’re you looking at?” his great-grandfather demanded. “GIs always sleep in their drawers!”
Socko read the tattoo on the old man’s skinny shoulder and grinned.
“What?” snapped the General.
“Is your tattoo supposed to say ‘MOHTER’?”
“Only if you’re lit and so is the guy giving you the tattoo. Now, where in the Sam Hill did Delia Marie hide my valise?”
“You going somewhere?” A bubble of hope rose in Socko’s chest.
“I’ll be going after you if you don’t bring me my clothes so I can get dressed.”
“Oh. Yeah. Good idea.” Socko had carried the suitcase upstairs to the room Delia had set aside for the General. But it looked like they’d have to rethink that. The General was never going to be able to make it up the stairs.
Which meant there was one whole floor of the house that was General-proof. And two extra bedrooms.
Picking up the suitcase, he imagined letting Junebug have the room the General would never use. She’d be safe from Rapp here. But how many miracles did one guy get? In his experience it was usually less than one.
“Did your ‘mohter’ like your tattoo?” Socko called as he slid the last burger out of the microwave.
“Does your ‘mohter’ serve this pickled monkey all the time?” the General shot back, glaring at the plate Socko set on his knees.
“Pretty much.”
“Doesn’t she know about fruits? Vegetables?”
“She knows, but they’re expensive.”
“Another meal or two like this is going to stop up my plumbing.” The single eye glared at Socko. “And I’m not my usual sweet self when I’m plugged up.” He took a bite and chewed in silence.
Socko sat down and ate a handful of Lucky Charms straight out of the box. He wished there was a second burger, but he got less and less hungry watching the General chew. With each bite the old man’s face seemed to collapse.
The General stopped after the third bite. “You always watch people eat this closely?”
“No.” Socko stuffed a handful of cereal in his mouth.
“No, sir. Great breakfast you’re having. Is milk too expensive too?”
“We’re just out right now, okay?”
The General thrust the gnawed Bun Buster at him. “You eat it. I can feel my guts locking up.”
Socko hesitated. Finger-shaped depressions dented the damp bun.
The General whapped Socko’s hand with it. “Take it!”
Socko took it, but he wasn’t eager to eat it.
“Chow down,” the General ordered. “I suggest you keep your strength up. You’re going to need it.”
“For what?” Socko took a bite out of the unchewed edge of the burger.
“For later.”