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Theo is a better man than he gives himself credit for. His twin sister was his best friend, and I envied how close they were. It was a rare showing of family love, or at least it was for me. In many ways, she was his raft. His family situation is pretty messy, and he endured some pretty serious abuse. When Anika died, he lost his way for a while, but then he found Lily. They kind of found each other.
I place my hands on my friend’s shoulders and force him to look me in the eyes.
“Deep breath,” I say.
He grimaces at first, but I insist, exaggerating the deep inhale and exhale. He rolls his head, stretching his neck, and finally gives in, breathing with me.
“You’ve got this. You’re going to do amazing things for someone, and Anika . . . she would be proud.”
He stares back at me, unblinking, for several seconds before bringing his hands to my shoulders, too.
“Thanks, Cam. I needed that.” He nods and I slap my palms on his shoulders twice before letting go.
I follow him out the door, my eyes instantly scanning the campus for Brooklyn. I spot her back as she slips through the door on her way to econ. She was so stressed when I left her last night because she didn’t study, so I made her promise to trust me today.
I pound knuckles with Theo and pull my bag up on my shoulder to make it easier to jog and catch up to Brooklyn. My damn phone buzzes in my pocket, so I reach in and feel for the ignore call button on the side. The pause lasts about six seconds, so I repeat my action but pull the phone out to see if my assumption is correct.
MOM. Two missed calls.
We talked days ago, and it’s not like her to want to be on a regular loop with me. This isn’t a weekly check-in because we simply don’t do that shit. I stop when my phone rings a third time in my palm, and I answer.
“Hey, I’m almost in class,” I say, my stomach tight. I spin in a slow circle, searching for my mom, half expecting her to pop out and surprise me and explain that’s why she called. She’s here. I dismiss that stupid fantasy almost as quickly as I have it, though. She loathes this place.
“I know. I was hoping to catch you. Cam, he has another hearing.”
I stop breathing. There are few things my mother knows about my father before me, and his parole hearing being scheduled is one of them because, despite the complicated shit their relationship is, she promised that for his next hearing she would pay for his attorney. His attempts to win over the board didn’t go so well on his own. And whether it’s because she knows this means something to me, or because deep down, he still means something to her, my mom wants him out.
“When?” The bell rings around me as I spin, no longer sure what direction I’m heading.
“Two weeks. I forwarded you the email I got from the state. Hal is lined up. I just thought . . . I thought you’d want to know.”
Hal is my father’s new attorney. He wasn’t picked at random, either. He actually took my mom on a few dates that she tried to not tell me about. That was fine with me because I really didn’t want to know. But coincidences started to line up and there were some intimate things she seemed to know about him when she started telling me about his background and credentials. Somehow, she and Hal remained good friends. Probably because my mom isn’t capable of loving, not in the way most humans crave it. But she’s a damn good conversationalist and good to have as your plus-one at a business event. That’s their existence now, Hal and my mom. Platonic plus-ones.
“Thanks. I’ll see him this weekend.” My body tingles with excited energy. I’ve waited for this moment, and I knew it was on the horizon. I didn’t know it would be so soon, though.
My mom ends the call, cutting off her own goodbye mid-word. I grip my phone in my hand and continue my rushed pace to class. I can’t sit on this news without celebrating with someone, but my dad isn’t an easy phone call away. After I slip through my classroom door, I pull my phone into my lap and fire off a quick email to his prison address celebrating the news. Hal may be a great lawyer, but so is Karl Lowell. Maybe he can look over the filings with me when they’re ready and offer any tips to help my dad out. If I could tell Brooklyn about my dad, I think I can tell Karl. I’ve watched him with enough clients now to know he doesn’t judge people based on one action.
“Mr. Hass.”
My hands fumble with my phone and it falls to the floor as Mr. Philips clears his throat, hovering above me. I have no desire to spend today helping out the front office instead of earning credit for the Black Tuesday project in class.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I had to message my internship. It’s away now, though. It’s . . .”
He holds out his palm then curls his fingers twice in request of my device. I set my phone in his hand and wince.Damn.
“You know the rule. You can have it back at the end of the day. I do hope you have time to catch me before practice.” He can barely hide his smug grin, and I swear I hear my phone buzz from his jacket pocket as he walks away. I wonder who the message is from—from my mom? From Hall? A response from my dad?
My eyes drift left and catch Brooklyn’s mischievous grin as she waggles her phone in her hand then winks.
“Oh—” I murmur, narrowing my gaze with a teasing glare.
She drops her phone in her bag, proud of herself that she can send me a message that I’m going to have to wait hours to read. Anything from her is worth the wait, though, so joke’s on her.
She glances at me over her shoulder, her smirk still in place. But as Mr. Philips begins his lecture before our interactive test for the day, her expression morphs into anxious panic.
“Look to me,” I mouth, doing the pointing thing from her eyes to mine. She nods once and slides lower in her seat, her head turtling into her shoulders as her confidence wanes.
There are only a few things I can help Brooklyn with but climbing cliffs and navigating the Great Depression might be the two categories in which I am most qualified. They are eclectic credentials for sure, but by the end of this class, Brooklyn is going to thank my younger, strange self who decided to refuse to play field hockey for his grandfather and instead load up his library haul with books about Black Tuesday, the roaring twenties, and the United States economy before World War II. I thought I was putting a foot down and disappointing my grandparents, who methodically ruined nearly every summer for me as they babysat me for weeks at a time. Upon reflection, though, I’m fairly certain some reverse psychology was deployed. At least I got a guaranteed A on this assignment out of it.
