Jackson finally had his party and—as he had hoped—it was epic.
As one of the guests walked out the front door, he said to Jackson, “That was great, dude.”
“Well, thanks for coming!” Jackson said brightly. He called out to other guests who were heading for their cars, “Glad you guys had a good time. Especially you, Wayne! Watch out for that branch!”
He winced at the sound of a loud crack. “Or, just ignore it and walk right through it,” he added. “Who needs a helmet, huh?”
He closed the door and looked around the living room, which was a complete mess. “Whoa! In the light it looks a lot worse,” he commented.
His dad was surveying the disaster area as well. “Well, that’s okay, son,” he said. “I’ll just call the maid service.”
Jackson brightened. “Well, thanks, Dad! You know that is one of the many reasons why you’re still my hero, my role model, my—” Jackson was saying when he was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. “Just a second. Hello?”
“Clean it up!” Mr. Stewart yelled into his own phone.
Jackson had a feeling he’d be picking up trash and washing dishes for the next few hours, but he still gave it his best shot. “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number. Don’t call here anymore,” he said, and hung up the phone.