Page 39 of The Last Thing You Said

Clay gives me the finger. “You’re not letting her come fishing with us tomorrow, are you, Dad?”

I stomp up the stairs to my room. Two more years. Two more years before I can run away like he did.

After dinner, I hear them arguing.

“I’m in a tight spot,” Clay says. “I could really use some help.”

I tiptoe to the top of the stairs to hear more clearly. I’m expecting Dad to shell out the cash, whatever Clayton needs.

“You’re in a tight spot?” Dad says. “You drove all this way to tell me you’re in a tight spot? You’ve got to be kidding me. Your mom and I are working around the clock, Clay, to pay for your education. And then I hear that you get an incomplete? Lucy’s right. It’s time for you to grow up.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor.

“C’mon, Dad, give me a break here.”

“No. There isn’t any money to give you, Clayton, although that’s beside the point. If you need money so badly, maybe it’s time for you to get a job.”

“Oh, terrific,” Clay says. “I come home for this? For nothing?”

I hear a door slam, and I go back to my room. I don’t get the door closed in time before Clayton walks by.

“Unbelievable,” he says.

I turn to face him. “No, you’re unbelievable. You came home to see Dad on Father’s Day, right? No? Nice, Clay. Real nice.”

“Shut it,” he growls at me. He goes into his room and is back seconds later, his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m outta here.”

I’m not surprised at how Clay acted, but Dad’s words stunned me. He’s always given in to Clay, always let things slide with him because he was older, he was the boy, his buddy. And I’ve felt like I needed to be extra good to make up for Clayton. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is. I’m amazed that Dad finally stood up to him, told him no.

A few minutes later Dad comes up and knocks on my door.

“Hey,” he says. “So you heard all that, then, that business with your brother?”

I nod.

“He take off?”

I nod again.

“What do you say you and me go out and catch a few fish tomorrow? I’ve already got Daniel’s boat.”

I smile. “I’d like that.” I think about Simon, how he’s never been fishing, that his dad always promised to take him but was always too busy at the store. “Do you mind if Simon comes with? He’s never fished before. And his dad—well, his parents have been divorced for a while.”

Dad nods. “Sure, kiddo. That’ll be fun.”

When I pick up my phone to text Simon, there’s a message from him: Miss u.

I decide to ask him to go fishing with us in person. I find my flip-flops by the front door and cross the driveway to Simon’s house.

Sunday morning, Simon comes over after breakfast, bouncing on his heels in excitement. Dad hands him one of Clayton’s old rods, and we head down the hill to the dock and Daniel’s Alumacraft.

I flip up a seat cushion. “Here’s your PFD,” I tell him, handing him a camouflage vest.

“My what?”

“Personal flotation device.” I slip on Clare’s yellow one and demonstrate how to snap it shut and tighten the straps.

“Oh, a life jacket. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out on a boat. Years, actually.” He laughs, an uncomfortable, awkward sound. “I guess this isn’t my thing, really.”