WHAT DO YOU SAY?

When we got home, Mom sat me down at the kitchen table and took a deep breath.

“Explain,” she said. That was it.

I didn’t know what she was looking for, or what kind of explanation I was supposed to give. So I just started with the thing I was thinking about the most. That’s when I showed her my Loozer comics.

And get this. She actually liked them. She even laughed a couple times and told me that they were good but also that she had some questions.

“I thought Leo was a secret for you,” she said. “I didn’t realize you had started telling people about him.”

“He is! And I didn’t!” I said. “I mean—I didn’t mean to. I just figured nobody at HVMS would ever see those comics. In fact, I didn’t think anyone would notice them at all.”

“Well, that’s a lesson,” Mom said. “I’m sorry, Rafe, but it is. Posting your comics online means you lose all control of what happens to them. That’s not always a bad thing. People get to see your art that way. But you need to think about what it means to make it available like that.”

I knew, I knew, I knew.

Or at least, I did now.

“I have another question,” Mom said. “What made you want to include Leo in the first place?”

“Well…” I said. “I don’t know if this is going to sound weird, but it was like he wanted to be in there. He kind of asked.”

“I can understand that,” Mom said.

Mom’s used to the way I talk to Leo sometimes. But she also seemed a little sad. Not about me. About Leo. After all, he was her son the way he was also my brother. And then he died. It’s not exactly the happiest subject in our house, even though we all still love him.

“What do I do now?” I said. “I mean, what if people start asking me about him?”

“You tell them as much or as little as you want,” Mom said. “It’s up to you, Rafe. You can also just say, ‘I don’t want to talk about any of that.’ Period.”

“Yeah,” I said. I knew she was right, but it still felt complicated. Leo had been a secret for a long time. And even though I was the one who put him in the comic, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do about it now.

“One more question,” Mom said. “I want to ask you about this Loozer character.”

Oh, man. Here it was.

“Do you feel like a loser?” she said. “Is that where these comics are coming from?”

I knew that was what she was going to ask. But still, when I started to answer, it was like my throat got shut down for repairs. I felt like I had two pieces of double-stick tape down there, with a golf ball stuck in the middle.

Finally, I just said, “I don’t want to talk about any of that.”

“Period?” Mom said, with this nice smile.

I just nodded, ’cause I was afraid that golf ball was going to turn into a crying thing if I said anything else.

“Fair enough,” she said. Then she grabbed me and gave me this big hug instead of lecturing me or talking any more.

And you know what? I cried anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. I’ve cried in front of Mom before. Heck, I’ve cried in front of you before, if you’ve read some of my other stories. I guess I just had to “get it out.” That’s what Mom calls it.

So I did.

Lucky for me, Georgia was at a friend’s house, so I didn’t have to explain anything to her nosy face. But Junior was right there. He put his chin on my leg and I patted him on the head, which made me feel better too. For real. He’s a great dog. And even if I felt crappy just then, I knew it was going to be okay. Maybe not in five minutes. Or even five days. But soon, anyway.

For starters, Mom was way less mad about Operation: S.A.M. than I thought. She said putting up my pictures of famous paintings hadn’t done any harm, and I think she was even a little proud of my idea. She didn’t give me any punishment on top of those detentions. In fact, she didn’t even make me quit football.

And that brings me right up to the next thing in this crazy story.

Which also happens to be my favorite part.