Upstander by James Preller (free ereaders .TXT) 📕

the plan was decided, the mood in the house lifted. Jonny wasn’t as sour anymore. He was almost giddy. He ate meals, slept, slowly returned to something approximating his former self. Even better, Mary’s mother didn’t seem as jangled and distracted. She accepted the new reality. At peace with it for now. Ernesto showed up one day after work with a friend, sweating and grunting and hauling a used NordicTrack Elliptical Trainer up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Ernesto bought it off Craigslist and decorated it with a big yellow ribbon and bow.

“Some gift, he just wants me to get back in shape,” Mrs. O’Malley joked, but Mary could tell that she was happy and touched by the gesture.

“It needs a little work,” Ernesto admitted, winking at Mary, “but don’t we all?”

Miracle of miracles, Jonny landed a job at a bagel shop in town—“They have the single best garlic bagels on the planet!” he enthused—so it felt like things were moving in the right direction. Summer was winding down, school was starting in less than two weeks. Sure, there was still a lot to worry about. Would Jonny actually go to work? Could he feed himself? Would he slide back into more partying, more drugs, more dangerous decisions? No one knew the answers to those questions. Not even Jonny.

On the day before her brother moved out, Mary sat in the backyard at a reclaimed picnic table that Ernesto had “rescued” from someone’s garbage pile. He did that a lot. Drove around in his pickup truck on garbage day, often returning with curbside items of questionable quality. A riding lawn mower that “only” needed a new fuel pump and starter switch; a boat that leaked; a set of ancient, rusted golf clubs; a battered ping pong table that lacked a net. He has a weakness for broken things, Mary mused. The thought sank down into her belly, like a small stone dropped into a well, and it made her appreciate Ernesto just a little more.

Mary set out her art supplies. Paper, brushes, watercolors. She painted a seated female figure, facing away, balancing a stack of rocks on her head. It was a strange, almost magical image and it pleased Mary to make it. An hour passed. Very quietly, Jonny sat down beside her. He wore pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. His hair was wet from the shower. Mary didn’t comment, but she felt surprised. He didn’t usually show much interest. Why was he here?

“That’s pretty good,” Jonny said. “I like it.”

Mary grunted softly.

“Do you mind if I—?”

Mary tilted her head, glanced sideways. She tore out a thick sheet of paper from her spiral-bound sketch pad, slid it over. Jonny picked up a spare brush, dipped it in water, and looked around the yard, seeking inspiration.

“No paintings of me, please,” Mary said. “I’m still scarred from that drawing you did when I was in first grade. I looked like an anteater!”

Jonny laughed, a full-throated hoot. It was a sound Mary hadn’t heard in a while. It hung in the air, floated amid the trees, and drifted up to the clouds. Something as simple as a laugh. Mary wished she could paint it. Jonny’s laughter. She missed it.

They worked in silence, shoulder to shoulder. Then Jonny said, “I’m moving out tomorrow, you know.”

Mary rocked with her body, a sort of nod.

“It’ll be good,” he said. “I’m super psyched.”

Mary didn’t answer. Just listened, hunched over her painting, mixing the blues.

“Mom seems cool about it,” he ventured. “Like maybe it’s best.”

“Uh-huh,” Mary commented.

Jonny leaned back, studying her. He raised a thumb, squinting like an artist before an easel. “You got your hair cut.”

“Last week,” Mary said.

“I know, I know!” Jonny smiled. He hadn’t noticed. It only dawned on him now, when he was suddenly making this awkward attempt to be friendly.

A show of friendliness.

A performance.

Compliments and smiles.

Mary wondered if it was a real smile or an imitation of one.

“Remember that time you got bubblegum in your hair?” Jonny asked.

“I slept on it,” she recalled. “It must have fallen out of my mouth. I was crying.”

“I tried to cut it out for you,” Jonny recalled, laughing. “That was a bad idea! Your head came out looking lopsided!”

Mary remembered. Because she was the kind of person who remembered everything. All the good times and the bad. Jonny had lost interest in his painting of the tree. The browns and greens had gotten muddy. It wasn’t very good. He flicked the brush like a dart into the water glass. A splash and a clink.

“So, um,” he began.

Mary turned to look directly at him. She placed the palms of both hands on the table as if steadying herself, a gesture that unconsciously imitated her mother. Mary knew what this was. She knew her brother. So she waited for it to come.

His knee was bobbing up and down again. He was high. Mary was sure of it. Something about the way his gaze couldn’t quite settle on any object, like a butterfly that refused to land. “I feel like a jerk asking. Especially my little sister. Dez and I really want to fix the place up. Get a rug for the living room, a microwave, you know, make it really sharp, like a home.”

Mary nodded as if she believed every word.

“But I’m just kind of hurting for money right now,” Jonny said. “It’s totally temporary. I’m going to pay you back. I’m scheduled for a ton of hours at Gateway Bagels, I’ll be working all the time, so I’m totally good for it, but I won’t get paid for, like, at least, I don’t know, two weeks…”

“What about Mom? I thought she gave you money.”

Jonny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, barely. For rent. She’s not even giving me money for food. She insists on taking me grocery shopping. Like I’m a baby.”

“She doesn’t trust you,” Mary said.

Jonny opened his mouth, ready to argue. Desperation flickered in his eyes. He looked away, picked at the table with his fingernail,