He rises up, unfolding himself from the floor with at least an apologetic look on his face. He’s tall and lean, a leftover of his youth of neglect even after years of good food and care. About the only thing we have in common is our blue eyes—not the color, though they’re the same, but the ghosts that lurk there. Where I’ve dealt with mine by becoming sarcastic and keeping people at arm’s length for their own good, Jacob has coped by becoming the life of every party.

He’s the quintessential outgoing, playful, fun-loving guy whom everyone flocks to. He’s the rebel with a ‘fuck the world’ grin on his face, and everyone loves him for it.

“I didn’t mean to scare you that badly. But shit, you really got me good.” He rubs at his rib. Only . . .

“I kicked you on the other side, asshole.”

He grins that smile that’s gotten him into and out of more trouble than it should’ve as he switches his hand to the other side. “Yeah, I know. Just checking them all. You got some donkey behind that kick. Hee-haw!”

I can’t help but smile at him and he knows it. “What are you doing here, anyway?” My eyes tick to the clock on the wall behind him and then back to Jacob. “Don’t you have class in an hour?”

“Yes, Mom,” he intones flatly, fully engaged in annoying, sarcastic teenager mode. But I can’t help but feel a little happy when he says stuff like that, knowing that he’s not used to someone caring about him enough to check up on his whereabouts and doings. He pulls a rolled-up stack of paperwork out of his hoodie’s kangaroo pocket. “Need some help with this before class. I thought you could . . . you know . . . look it over? If you have time?”

The papers crinkle in his large hands as he squeezes them. “Or you know what, never mind. It’s fine. I’ll see you at home later, Zo.”

I step in front of him, blocking him even though he could plow right over me if he chose to. I hold my hand out, sighing. “Let me see.”

He looks at the papers once more before he hands them over. I unroll them, but not before I notice that he’s turning a bit red. He rubs at his neck as he turns away from me. “This guy’s younger than your usual DBs.”

Subject change, party of one.

“Yeah, was about to get started.” I look at the papers to find that it’s an essay assignment. I scan quickly and realize why Jacob is questioning himself. “Grandpa would love this.”

Eyes locked on the unseeing, closed ones of Chad, Jacob asks me, “You think it’s okay?”