Chapter 15
Jack

After four days of my successfully avoiding Aunt Rachel’s attempts to talk, Jason gives it a try. We’re watching TV, just him and me, which is what we do most evenings before and after dinner. His bare feet are propped up on the glass top of the coffee table.

He turns toward me and says, “You know, Jack, your mom, she’s, um, going to be okay.” He sounds exactly like Aunt Rachel. It’s almost like she’s told him what to say. I bet she did. Unbelievable.

“Okay,” I reply, wondering how to immediately redirect the conversation toward this sitcom that I’m only partially paying attention to.

He continues Aunt Rachel’s script: “I know it’s really, uh, tough, but it’s, it’s not about you. Like at all.”

“Listen,” I interrupt. “Can you just tell Aunt Rachel we had this little chat, and we’re all fine now?”

“Rach didn’t tell me to say anything,” Jason protests.

I almost believe him.

“But I’ll stop,” he says. I start to relax again, until he continues: “If you tell me where you’ve been going every day.”

My whole body clenches. I let out an involuntary gasp that I hope he doesn’t notice. “The park,” I lie.

“I went to the park.” He tilts his head. “You weren’t there.”

“You just didn’t see me,” I insist. My back presses deeper into the plush sofa cushions. I silently will the couch to just eat me right now, but I’m not magic like George. It refuses.

“It’s not a very big park,” Jason pushes back.

“Did you check the tree house?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No.”

Aha! “Well, I was up there.”

“I’ll check there tomorrow,” he says, clearly not believing me at all.

I flash a gap-toothed grin. “Great.”

Later I call my home phone from the landline in the kitchen. George doesn’t answer, so I leave a voicemail. “Can’t come by tomorrow. Sorry.” I hang up before Aunt Rachel or Uncle Dave or anyone can find me using their phone, hoping he gets the message.

I leave for the park a couple hours after Uncle Dave makes us all lunch. When I cross into the gate that surrounds the park, I find a patch of grass right near the entrance where I can sit and wait for Jason to try to bust me. Kids and their parents zip past me, flying kites, catching balls, having fun.

It reminds me of the last few days, running around with George, but these kids seem like they actually want to be here. It’s almost hard to watch. I pluck a fistful of grass and roll it around in my fingers. George is trying so hard, but his jokes and games don’t make me feel better the way they used to. Even the reason I wanted to find him seems ridiculous now. It’s obvious he doesn’t know anything about where my parents actually are.

At least Mom’ll be home soon. One week. That’s all she needed.

“You have a second?” Two beat-up canvas sneakers stand before me, way too big to belong to Jason. I crane my neck back to find Uncle Dave towering over me.

I sprinkle the blades of grass onto the dirt beside me and rise to my feet. “I was actually just heading home.”

“Shame,” Uncle Dave says with a shrug. “I was about to take you kids out for ice cream.” I peer around Dave, and spot Jason and Morgan waiting at the park entrance. Jason flicks his wrist in a guilt-ridden, halfhearted wave while Morgan almost glances up from her recently-returned phone.

“I guess I have a couple seconds,” I say with a smirk.

My twist cone is coated in rainbow sprinkles that are going to be all over this worn red wooden picnic table by the time we’re done. Morgan takes a seat by my side, while Jason and Uncle Dave sit across from me.

“So Jack,” Uncle Dave begins.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” I interrupt, hoping I sound only slightly rude.

“Her?” he says, confused. “I wanted to talk about you.”

Before I can shut this down, too—because I don’t want to talk about my feelings about her either—he says, “It’s great that you’re spending so much time outside, but if there’s anything else you’d like to do with us . . .” He tips his head toward Jason, then Morgan. “. . . Go to the movies, a bookstore, whatever . . . I’m game. I want to make sure you haven’t been getting too bored.” He laughs warmly. “Maybe that’s impossible though. I know that imagination of yours is—”

“Embarrassing,” Morgan jumps in. “Like the time you slid down the bannister at our house pretending you could fly and then you fell into the plant at the bottom.” She cackles so loudly that the family at the table beside us turns to stare.

Uncle Dave laughs with his mouth full of vanilla ice cream. It is both disgusting and hilarious. I should be mad, but I kind of laugh along because that was pretty funny.

“Or the time you thought you saw an armadillo in a top hat!” Jason snorts. “But it was just a plastic bag.”

“Okay. That bag was crawling,” I say. “This is not fair. I’m not the only one who’s done embarrassing stuff. What about the time you fell into the community pool because you were trying to show off to your friends? ‘Look how ripped I am guuuuuuuuuuuuuuys—SPLASH.”

We all laugh at this one.

“That was great,” Morgan agrees. “Or what about the time you had ice cream all over your face, and you looked like a fool?” she says with a wink to Jason.

“I don’t remember that,” I have to admit. I take another lick of my ice cream as Jason’s arm jumps out and bops the bottom of my cone. It smashes into my face. “You did not just do that!” I cry out, snorting a sprinkle out my nose and holding in a laugh.

I stretch my arm out to do the same to him. He expects it and ducks back, successfully avoiding my boop. Unfortunately for my cousin, he ducks a little too far back, falling off the bench and landing smack on his back. His ice cream splatters all over the front of his shirt.

Uncle Dave is laughing so hard he’s practically wheezing. He dips a finger into his own ice cream and reaches to smear it across Morgan’s cheek, but she hops off the bench the correct way and races across the parking lot, her precious treat fully intact and her face still clean.

I don’t know if any of us except Morgan have gotten to enjoy more than half of our cones, but this is the best meal I’ve had in a long time. I’m almost happy to be here.

A freezing cold glob smooshes on the back of my neck and oozes down my shirt. I whip around to find Morgan standing behind me, gleefully howling with an ice-cream-coated hand.

Almost happy.