THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY, at comics club, Doc clears his throat. “Well, troops, I finally got an email back from the Master.”
My pencil stops in midair.
“They’ve signed on for one issue of John Lockdown Is in the Building! If they like it—and it’s a big if—then maybe—maybe—they might order more. Still, this is great news!”
“Wow!” Darcy shouts.
“Cool!” says Joon.
The two seventh graders slap five. Doc is grinning. I’m so proud I think I might burst.
“Yesss! Chest bump!” says Dylan. No one gives him one.
When Mom picks me up after school, she’s smiling, too—in a very mysterious way. “Guess who just called me from the airport?” she asks.
I swallow hard. I have to work to find my voice. “So—is—is he really coming home?”
“For a few weeks, anyway. Long enough for some quality time together. He’ll be back tomorrow night.” She flashes a quick glance at me. “He’s worried about Cal’s foot, of course. And he wants to hear all about your comic book contest exploits, Stanley. Lots to catch him up on.”
Dad, home . . . Wow. I can hardly remember what that’s like. It almost seems like part of a past life.
But that’s okay. Because my present life has been going along okay these days. Cal’s been way quieter and calmer. School’s okay. And now there’s comics club.
If only Liberty were around. But nothing’s perfect.
To top off all this good stuff, a four-day weekend, thanks to teachers’ conference, is about to start. Four days of relaxing, sleeping in, and goofing off . . .
And starting tomorrow night—Dad time. After all this time, it’s going to be weird to see him. But weird-good. I think. I hope.
The next morning, right after breakfast, the doorbell rings. Joon and Dylan walk in like it’s no big deal.
“We thought we’d come hang out. You know, since it’s Saturday,” Joon says, taking off his jacket. “Since Saturdays are traditionally kind of our thing. Right?”
“Yeah, thanks for having us,” says Dylan.
“Um, okay,” I say, trying to act like this is no big deal.
We go up to my room. Dylan tries throwing a tennis ball for Albert Einstein, who lets the ball bounce off the top of his head. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think your dog’s very smart,” Dylan says.
“Four days off! Maybe we can go to the comics store. Or the movies, or the mall,” Joon says, giving me a careful glance.
“Yeah, maybe just one of those things,” I say. “If I space it out with some downtime.”
“It’s a deal,” Joon says, punching my arm.
Out the window, I see Gramps in the yard, feeding the chickens. He’s got plans for a new, state-of-the-art, doomsday-proof, coyote-secure chicken facility. Once Dad gets home tonight, we’re all going to start building. Even Cal said he’d help.
While Dylan tries to play ball with Albert Einstein, and Joon listens to music, I glance at my phone. There’s a text from Liberty, with a photo this time—she’s standing by her mom, and they have their arms around each other. They have the same exact smile, the same big green eyes. And Liberty’s got on a green T-shirt that says What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Except for bears. Bears will kill you.
Lib: Theater job’s a go. We’re moving to Maine.
Stan: That’s bad news! Or is it?
Lib: I’ve never been to Maine, so how would I know?
Stan: You gonna find a tree to climb so you can see the other ocean?
Lib: Yeah, and my mom might even let me do it. She’s loosening up a bit. And I’ll be back, of course. So . . . Trivia Quest, next year: Do we have a date?
Stan: You bet.
Lib: And mail me a copy of the John Lockdown comic, will you? Also, that Blue Streak thing you’re doing with Darcy.
Stan: Will do.
Liberty: I can’t wait to see all the new stuff you come up with this year, Stanley Fortinbras.
I smile to myself as I put down the phone. Who knows what could happen before the next Trivia Quest? Could be anything, really. I pick up a freshly sharpened pencil and open my sketchpad.
I guess I might as well begin.