“I can get away with stuff like this,” I say. “My mom is like the opposite of a helicopter parent.”
“Yeah? What’s the opposite of a helicopter parent?”
“She’s more like a Hubble space telescope parent. Positioned as far away as possible and always looking in the other direction.”
Sarah smiles, but there is a sad look in her eyes, too. She gets it.
Just like that, the mention of Mom puts the other mother back in my head. Standing by the stove, stirring those goddamn eggs.
“Does your mom know you’re here?” Sarah asks.
“She knows.”
“And Charlie and Julia, too?”
“Yup,” I say. “I guess she knows that I would never let anything happen to them.” I smile. “Unless they deserved it.”
“I think it’s kind of sweet, trusting you to take care of Charlie and Julia. Your stepdad trusts you, too?”
I laugh. “I don’t think my stepfather even notices me unless I forget to bring out the trash.”
“Well, your mom trusts you, and mothers know that kind of stuff. They can feel it in their bones.”
“She may trust me, but I sometimes wonder why. What the hell do I know?”
“You seem to be doing a good job,” Sarah says. “Charlie and Julia listen to you. They look up to you.”
“Not always. Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth. And sometimes it would be nice to just be a kid again and not have to worry about them.”
I feel like I said too much. I’ve accidentally said something I think but never say. Not even to Mrs. Newfang. But Sarah just stares at me, waiting for me to say more. “It sounds crazy,” I say, speaking slowly. Trying on the words for size. “But sometimes I wish my mom had a little more helicopter in her. I don’t feel all that responsible. I’m actually pretty irresponsible most of the time. And I want to be irresponsible. I don’t want to have to worry all the time. I feel like I’m the last person who should be in charge of anyone.”
“How come?”
She passes the pole back to me. It’s my turn to cast. This gives me a second to think, which is good because I’ve fallen into a word trap. Mrs. Newfang sets these traps all the time. She gets me talking about one thing, and then, before I know it, I say something big and important. I give away a secret or tell her how I’m feeling even though I didn’t want her to know. The only difference is that I can ignore Mrs. Newfang if I don’t want to answer her questions. I can stare at the wall or my feet until she asks me something different. But here on this rock, I can’t just ignore Sarah’s question and say nothing. Sarah asked why I’m the last person who should be responsible for other people. There are a million answers to the question, and one really big answer, and they’re all true, but I don’t want to say any of them.
“I don’t know,” I say after I cast the line. “I guess I’ve got my own things to worry about.”
“Like what?”
Another word trap. A question that requires a hard-to-say answer. I know she doesn’t mean it, but it’s frustrating. I decide to just say it. “I’m not exactly a good role model. I don’t behave good at school all the time.”
“I know,” Sarah says.
“You do?”
“We’re in the same school, remember?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But not the same classes.”
“Stuff gets around.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Sarah smiles. “You punched your bus driver for starters.”
“I didn’t punch him,” I say, a little too fast. “I shoved him.”
I shoved his face, but I leave out that detail.
“You threw the cash register on to the floor. I was actually in the cafeteria for that one.”
“They wouldn’t give me lunch. I was hungry. I got angry. I got hangry.”
Actually, I got full, which is a combination of angry and sad and embarrassed and sometimes other stuff, too. No one knows about me being full. It’s my secret thing. Mrs. Newfang hasn’t tricked me into telling her about that yet, but she probably knows a little bit about it already.
What I don’t tell Sarah is that I was supposed to be a free lunch kid because Mom and Glen don’t make enough money. But I didn’t want to be a free lunch kid anymore, so I threw all the applications away and told Mom we didn’t qualify anymore. Then she kept forgetting to send in the check because there was no money to send. So I got angry and pushed the cash register off the counter.
“And the office windows?” Sarah asks.
“One window. It was kind of an accident. I meant to scare the office ladies. Not actually break the window. I just threw my algebra book too hard.”
“Okay,” Sarah says. “But that kind of stuff gets around.”
“I didn’t know,” I say. I really didn’t.
“It’s okay,” Sarah says. “Everyone has something.”
I wonder what Sarah’s something is, but I don’t ask. That would be a word trap, and I don’t set word traps, even when I want to know something more than anything.
“Okay,” I say. “So knowing all that and stuff you probably haven’t even mentioned yet, would you put me in charge of these two little kids all day long? Let me take them to this island in canoes?”
“Before today, no way,” Sarah says. “I kind of thought it was crazy right from the start. I wondered if I should even be with you.” Then she smiles. “But now? Yes. I would. I see what your mother sees in you. She’s a smart lady.”
I think three things at the exact same time.
I love Sarah Flaherty.
Sarah Flaherty likes me. Not like likes me, but she thinks I’m okay, which only two or three people in the whole world think right now.
Sarah Flaherty only knows the tip of the iceberg about me, and that’s a good thing. I want to keep it that way.
She casts the line. The lure plops in the water. She reels it in, slowly, just like I showed her. I’ve never wanted anyone to catch a fish as badly as I want Sarah to catch one now.
four
Julia wins the bet. She catches nine fish—two more than Charlie—including a largemouth bass that was probably a foot long. It is the biggest thing she has ever caught. Bigger than anything Charlie has ever caught, too. I tell her that it should count for at least ten fish, though she doesn’t need any extra credit to win.
Her victory means three things:
Charlie is going to act like an asshole for at least an hour and probably all afternoon.
Julia will eventually feel bad about beating him and give back at least half of his dessert.
Charlie will act like an even bigger asshole while eating his dessert.
It’s an annoying routine, but it’s nice to know what to expect.
Sarah and I don’t catch anything, but as we pack the tackle into the pickle buckets, she asks if she can come fishing again.
Before I can say yes, Julia does.
“Sure thing,” I add. I want Sarah to know that I want her to come back, too. I wish I had said it first.
The fear that I felt this morning returns as soon as I climb out of the canoe and back on to my aunt’s dock. For the three hours that we spent fishing on the island, I only thought about the other mother a couple times. For a little while, I forgot about her completely. But now that we are back in the real world of sad aunts and after-school detentions, the other mother is sitting in the front of my mind again.