Page 134 of The Last Guy On Earth
Clay shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a step back. “All right. You two have a nice day. I’ll see you around.”
“Wait,” I say. “Not so fast.”
Clay pauses, his eyes darting from me to Toby as I free myself of Toby’s grip and take a step forward.
Then I just hug him in the June sunshine. Like other people do.
And he hugs me back, just like that.
“Call me later,” I say. “We’ll make some plans.”
“You can bet on it.”
I give him a quick kiss on the temple and step back. Toby is wide-eyed with curiosity as I give Clay a wave. “Later.”
“Later.” He gives me one more smile before he turns to go.
SIXTY
Jethro
AUGUST
My suitcase is so stuffedthat I have trouble zipping it up.
“You should have let me ship another box,” my sister says. “That’s going to weigh a ton.”
“Not a weakling,” I grumble, even though she’s right.
Last night we all went shopping for school supplies at Target. Toby and Shelby loaded me down with notebooks and highlighters. A dictionary and a thesaurus. I also own a new calculator and mechanical pencils.
I put my foot down, though, when Toby wanted me to buy a 3-ring binder with superheroes on it.
“They have a Detroit hockey one,” he’d said.
As if. “I don’t need a binder, kid. But you pick one out for yourself.”
My first college class in over fifteen years starts tomorrow. I’m taking just one course while I officially apply to the program. Getting my feet wet, basically.
I’ll also be taking some scouting trips for the Cougars, looking at young goalies in the junior leagues. Trying to spot the next legend in front of the net.
I can’t wait.
The suitcase finally zips shut, and I ease it onto its wheels. “All right, Shelby. The room is yours. You can break out the ruffles or whatever.”
“Ruffles?” She puts a hand on one of her bony hips and gives me a stare. “Bitch, please.”
I laugh, and her eyes sparkle.
Four weeks ago, we stood outside the women’s prison for forty minutes until the gate opened at last, and Shelby ran out. She’s painfully thin and looks older than thirty-five. But she is off drugs, going to daily NA meetings, and doing great.
Since then, she’s been sleeping on one of the bunkbeds in Toby’s room. I’d offered to bunk with my nephew and give her my bedroom, but Toby insisted he wanted her close. He’s over the moon to have her home.
“You take care of yourself,” I tell her now, and it comes out sounding stern.
“I will,” she says, her smile fading. “I promise, Jethro. And I’m going to test every week, so you won’t have to worry.”
The testing is probably humiliating, but it’s part of the program that Shelby’s lawyer has laid out so that she can legally regain custody of Toby. As of this week, my father is Toby’s emergency legal guardian. But Shelby has a plan and a new job at a coffee shop.
