Jude

It wasn’t his fault, Auntie Jewel said when he called her. Jude was too young to have full responsibility for a four-year-old, especially one who needed as much supervision as Spider. She said Jude was a good brother who did his best.

Jude knew she was just trying to make him feel better. He wanted her to. Why else did he call her, instead of Mom at work? Auntie Jewel showed up, took one look at Spider, and put them both in her car. On the way to the emergency room, Jude told her about the rusty nail and watched her go even paler.

He’d done the smart thing, calling her right away, she said.

Only he hadn’t called her right away. He’d waited till he realized the blood was never going to stop unless Spider stayed still, and no way that was going to happen. By then Jude was so scared it took three tries to tap in Auntie’s number.

Even when the ER nurse gave Spider something to calm him down. Even when it still took two more nurses to hold him while the doctor did the stitches. Even when his mother showed up, having ten heart attacks. Even when Jude gave Mom the short version of what had happened and she fixed her eyes on him in a way that made his stomach twist like he’d swallowed a snake. Even then, Auntie Jewel kept saying it wasn’t his fault.

“Jude called me right away,” she told Mom.

“There’s a reason you have my work number in your phone, Jude.” Mom did that thing where she talked without opening her mouth. “You know that, right?”

Afterward, in the hospital garage, Mom couldn’t remember where she’d parked. She aimed her key around, trying to make her car beep. By the time they found it, nobody was talking. With a sad-eyed look, Auntie Jewel got in her car and drove away.

Jude sat in the back with Spider, who fell asleep right away. Jude stared out the window, his brain doing the Tilt-A-Whirl. That girl and her dinky excuse for a bike. In second grade, his class had a gerbil that ran around its wheel like that. He’d noticed that girl at school. Weird clothes, a face that was too pointy. When she took off her bike helmet, her hair sprang out like the rays of the sun, if the sun was brown.

The way she stood up to that fossil lady!

What did she say her name was? Something old-timey, like one of Mom’s Good Sam ladies.

He kept seeing Spooky, twisting around to look back at them. He kept trying to un-see it.

Mom pulled into the driveway. Opened the car door and picked up Spider. Feeling sick, Jude followed them to the front door. Standing next to what was left of his pine tree, he watched her put her key in the lock.

“I shouldn’t have taken him there,” he said.

No reply.

“I’m sorry. I swear I won’t do it again.”

His mother laid Spider on the couch. Jude kept an eye on her hands, ready to dodge. But they just hung at her sides like iron weights.

“I’m taking a shower,” she said. “Watch him.”

After her shower she cooked dinner—real dinner, chicken and biscuits from scratch. Jude couldn’t remember the last time she made biscuits. He should’ve been too upset to eat but he was starving. He kept waiting for her to tell him to quit hogging the food, but she didn’t even seem to notice. When Spider wouldn’t eat anything, she let him have ice cream. Two big bowls.

She gave Spider a sponge bath. Got him in his PJs, fed him some medicine, and put him in her bed. Read him a story off her phone, then lay with him till he fell asleep. By the time she got a beer from the fridge and came back to the living room, the quiet had lasted so long Jude was ready to jump out of his skin. He was trying to decide if he should lead off with another apology, but she spoke first.

“My sister says I depend on you too much.” She popped the beer, took a sip. “But she doesn’t know you like I do. She’s your aunt. I’m your mother.” Another sip. “You’re smart, Jude. You know what’s what.”

People always said his mother was pretty. Sometimes, like now, when she was wearing her pink hoodie and the curls weren’t ironed out of her hair, he thought so, too. He couldn’t help looking at the scar on her lip, though. Would Spider have a scar? His mother took another sip of beer, and after a few beats she spoke again.

“You’re smart,” she repeated. “You get that from your dad. He was the most intelligent person I ever met. If he’d lived, there’s no telling what he could’ve done. That’s why you making these bad decisions...” She looked away. “It just breaks my heart. You could do so much better, Jude. You have so much potential. I know your brother’s a handful. He’s got issues. But he looks up to you.”

Jude picked up a doily, balled it in his fist. If Spider got a scar, it would be all his fault. She took another sip.

“I won’t have you ending up like me, stuck in this dead-end town. You’re going to college. You’re going places.”

“Mom,” he tried. “You’re smart, too. You could go back to school or—”

“Don’t change the subject, mister.” She peered past him like she saw something in the distance. But it must have disappeared because she sat up straight and rolled her shoulders. “We’re talking about you. The way you screwed up today, no way I should trust you again. But you can do better. I know it, and I think you know it, too.”

When Jude swallowed, it was like sharp stones scraped his throat.

“Spider,” he said. “He liked it there. He was having fun before—”

“Spider is four years old. He’s got less sense than a cupcake. You’re lucky nothing worse happened! Do not get me started again! You go anywhere near that so-called fortress and I will not be responsible for my actions. Do you hear me, Jude?”

He nodded, not looking at her.

“We’re calling this a reset,” she said. “A new start. You’re grounded, that goes without saying. But you’re going to use the time to study, every single day. No way you’re getting bad grades another year. And I’m making a to-do list. We’re going to work together to fix up this dump, starting with the bathroom.”

Down the hall in her room, Spider started whimpering. Mom stood up. Jude could feel her eyes on him, but still he didn’t look at her. After a moment she sank back down beside him.

“Look at me.” She took his chin, turned his face toward her. “You think I like talking to you this way? You think I want to be lecturing and punishing you? I don’t. I love you and your brother. I’m doing everything I can for us, but I can’t do it all. I need your help. I got to count on you.”

Her eyes were shiny with tears. She pulled his head against her shoulder and held it there.

“I love you up to the moon and stars,” she whispered. “I want to be proud of you. Make me proud of you, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”