"Okay, what's sixteen times four?"
"Is thirty-two your favorite number or something?"
I must look as dumbfounded as I feel because he lets out a heavy sigh.
"Both of your questions have thirty-two."
"How the hell does my second question have thirty-two?" I unlock my phone and pull up the calculator because now I'm confused.
"Sixteen times two is thirty-two."
"But I asked you what sixteen times four was."
"Right, and sixteen times two is thirty-two, and thirty-two times two is sixty-four."
"No wonder you're getting into trouble at school."
Cooper gets down from his stool and drags it to the other counter. He climbs onto it and maneuvers to kneeling on the counter. Taking two glasses from the cabinet, he asks if I want ice in my water. I don't answer him, and he nods as if he understood my non-answer.
"My teachers wanted me to skip a couple of grades last year, but Mom said no," he says as he fills our glasses with ice water.
"Why'd she say no?"
"She didn't want to stunt my social skills. Basically, she didn't want me growing up faster than I already am."
His answer is telling, and yet it still doesn't solve the mystery of Jade. What was her own childhood like? What is she protecting him from?
"Is that what she said?"
"More or less. There's a private school…" He pauses and squints up at me like he's telling me a secret he's not supposed to share. "Don't tell my mom, okay?"
I nod, and he continues. "There's a private school I keep hearing my teachers talk about. I looked it up. It costs a lot of money. But man, it'd be really cool to go."
I want to relate to this kid. I want to tell him I get it. That I hear him and understand, but the truth of the matter is I don't. I've lived a privileged life, and it'd be wrong to pretend I didn't.
"Your secret is safe with me, kid."
He grins and pops a cube of cheese into his mouth.
'So, what do you usually do now? Homework?"
Cooper narrows his eyes, leans forward on his elbow, and rests his chin in his hands.
"Do you think I have homework?"
"You did it during school already, didn't you?"
"I could stop going to school tomorrow and still pass the next two years."
"Got it. You're a genius," I say, standing from the stool. "So no homework and no games, huh? Want to watch a movie and then help me pick an assistant?"
He nods and cleans up our snack. I attempt to help, but end up dropping a glass in the process, and he shoos me to the living room so he can clean it up.
Abuela and Abuelo would've loved the shit out of this kid. I don't know why the thought hits me with such conviction. Probably because I was once a little punk too.
Life on crutches is lonely, and it's been nice having him around. Although I'd never admit it aloud. Mom's busy filming the holiday episodes for her cooking show, and Dad's taken up golf. When he isn't golfing, he's volunteering with the local youth and high school baseball teams. He never did like sitting still, but I'm surprised he's taken to golf. Mom said it's because Uncle Frank invited him to a charity tournament in Montana next week. Which makes way more sense than him playing golf because he enjoys it. It's beating Uncle Frank that matters.
"What's a booby trap?" Cooper asks later while we watch The Goonies.
