Mr. 60% Page 12

  Matt put up his hand. “Nah. Thanks, though.”

  “No problem, bro. Take care a yourself.”

  —

  Matt entered the trailer, but he watched the picnic table man from the window, watched him for a long time. One by one, his buddies rolled out of their trailers and joined him. Smokes were passed around, and somebody took out a bottle. Someone started a game of dominoes and pretty soon they were all laughing and hooting and carrying on.

  Matt looked at the clock on the TV. There was still an hour left. He walked out of the trailer and headed toward school.

  Mr. Marsh’s desk was buried in paper when Matt stepped into his office. He managed to get the surprised look off his face pretty quickly.

  “Hi, Matt. It’s nice to see you again. Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.”

  Matt sat in the chair but didn’t say anything. Mr. Marsh collected the papers on his desk, paper-clipping them into neater piles and stacking them up on the shelves beside his desk. “Graduation,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I know it’s supposed to be the best time of the year—and it is, don’t get me wrong—but the paperwork’s a beast.”

  He worked for a few more minutes, then rested his chin in his hand and looked at Matt. “I tried to get ahold of you, you know. After you disappeared. I called every number we had on file for you. I even drove to the address we had listed. I met a lady there said she was your grandmother, but she hadn’t seen you in years.”

  “I’m sorry you wasted your time.”

  “That’s all right. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone out there.”

  “Thanks. I know.”

  Mr. Marsh gave Matt another quiet minute. “So…is there anything I can do for you?”

  Matt thought about the question, started to say something, stopped. Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”

  “Well, is there something you need?”

  “I don’t really know that, either.” Matt almost smiled. “That must sound pretty stupid, huh?”

  Mr. Marsh smiled for him. “Not at all, Matt. I’m fifty-two years old and I think the exact same thing. All the time.”

  “Well…okay, I haven’t really planned this out or anything. But I guess there might be one thing. I know it’s a long shot, but do you think I could get another one of those applications from you? Do you think Tech would still take a look at it?”

  Mr. Marsh winced. “Oh, Matt, I don’t know about that one. Not without a high school diploma. They’re pretty firm on that one. I don’t think the letters of recommendation would bail you out.”

  “That’s what I thought. But I needed to at least check, you know? I needed to try.” He stood up and turned toward the door.

  “Not so fast, there, Matt. What are you doing this summer?”

  Matt sat back down. “No big plans.”

  Mr. Marsh riffled through a file, took out a sheaf of papers. “The weeks you’ve missed put you out of reach for graduation. There’s no chance you can walk across that stage next week.”

  “I know.”

  Marsh looked at Matt’s file. “But you were passing all your classes at midterm. If I can talk to those teachers, get them to give you an incomplete instead of a straight F, you could make up the lost time in summer school. It’s six weeks, and you’d need to be there every day and work your tail off.” Mr. Marsh studied Matt, who made a keep-going gesture. “But you’d have a diploma by the end of the summer. And maybe we could get those letters to Tech and tell them the diploma is pending.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Marsh.”

  Marsh pointed at Matt. “I’m going to give it to you straight, here. If I do all this, I’m putting myself on the line for you. There are people who trust me at Tech. If you drop the ball, it’s going to reflect on me, understand? I need to know you’re into this. Really into this.”

  “I want to finish high school.”

  Mr. Marsh smiled again. “Well, now I know you mean business.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s the first time I’ve ever heard you start a sentence with I want.” Mr. Marsh stuck out his hand. Matt shook it. “It’s a start.”

  Matt headed for the door, then turned around. “Hey. I guess I want something else.”

  Mr. Marsh raised one eyebrow. “Really? This must be a big day, Matt. What else do you want?”

  “The address of a student. Can you help me find it?”

  “Well, now, Matt, you know I can’t disclose something like that.”

  “I get it. Just thought I’d check.”

  He turned to leave, but Mr. Marsh stood up and turned his laptop around so it was facing Matt.

  “But I suppose I can tell you that in my experience whitepages.com takes care of anyone not in the Federal Witness Protection Program.” Mr. Marsh grinned widely. “Good luck, Matt.”

  As he walked across town, Matt noticed that the world was still functioning. Even after everything he’d been through. The sun was warming up streets still damp with afternoon rain, cars were driving around, people were talking and laughing. For the first time in weeks, this didn’t piss him off quite as much.

  He came to a little blue cottage and knocked on the door. The woman who answered was unmistakably Amanda’s mother.

  The woman just stared at him for a few moments. “You must be Matt,” she said.

  Oh, shit, Matt thought. He wasn’t the kind of guy moms liked to see show up at their door even at the best of times, and he could only imagine what she’d heard about him lately. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have—

  “Oh, you poor thing.” The woman reached forward with her flabby arms, wrapped them around Matt and pulled him close to her. “You poor, poor thing.” She squeezed him tight and started to sway from side to side a little, like someone trying to put a baby to sleep. Matt should have been embarrassed. But he wasn’t.

  Finally, she pulled back, but she still held on to Matt, putting her soft hands on either side of his face.

  “Amanda has told me everything about you, everything you’ve been through.” She just kept staring at him with that concerned look on her face.

  “Yeah.” He didn’t really know what to say. “She’s a talker.”

  Amanda’s mom threw her head back and laughed. “She is, isn’t she? Always been a talker, that one.”

  Matt stood there awhile longer. He cleared his throat. “So…is she here?”

  Her eyebrows crinkled up. “Oh, she didn’t tell you?”

  Matt winced. He hadn’t given Amanda a chance to tell him much of anything lately.

  “She got a callback interview down at the nursing school admissions office. Oh, she was so nervous that she wouldn’t let me go with her.”

  Matt thought about it. “I might go down there, see how she’s doing. Do you…do you think she’d mind?”

  “Of course not! Moms might not always be welcome but teenage boys are another thing altogether, am I right?” She giggled, just like her daughter, and patted Matt on the arm. She hadn’t stopped touching him since he got here. But Matt didn’t really mind.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll head over. It’s by the hospital, right?”

  “Oh, you can’t go without something to eat first. It looks like you haven’t had a decent meal in ages. You’re skinny as a ferret! You stay there and I’ll whip you up something for the road.”

  “That’s okay.” Matt took a step backward. “I’d like to get down there right away. So I’m there for when her interview’s over, you know? Whether it’s good or bad.”

  Amanda’s mom looked surprised, and then her face went from normal to crying in less than a second. She didn’t try to hide it or anything. “You’re right. You should get down there.” She pulled back and wiped her face. “But you come back for a hot meal, you hear? And if you need anything—a ride somewhere or a place to crash or someone to talk to, whatever at all—you come right back here.”

  Matt nodded and stayed in the doorway for another few moments. “That’s
really nice. Thank you.”

  Amanda’s mom looked surprised again. And then she started crying again. But she talked right through her crying. “Thank me? Don’t be ridiculous.” She stepped forward and took both of Matt’s hands in hers. “Oh, she would die if she knew I was telling you this, but Amanda used to come home crying, just about every day after school. Those high school kids, they can be so mean. And the cold shoulder, well, that’s even worse than the meanness.” Amanda’s mom shook her head. “But you. Ever since she’s met you, she’s been okay. No more moping around, sitting in her room by herself. You and that uncle of yours—God rest his soul—gave her a purpose, made her feel useful. Were nice to her. No, Matt, it’s me that needs to be thanking you.”

  She turned him around and nudged him toward the street. “Now get down over there. I’ll have dinner waiting for both of you after.”

  As Matt neared the hospital he felt that familiar rush of panic. But he kept walking. It only took him a few minutes to find the nursing school entrance.

  Amanda came out when he was halfway across the parking lot. Matt spotted the big Buick Electra and cut across to meet her there.

  She was fumbling for her keys when she noticed him standing by the car. “Matt!” She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “What are you doing here?” She looked around the parking lot. “What are you doing anywhere?”

  “It was time to get out of that trailer.”

  They just looked at each other for a little while. “I miss him,” Amanda said in a small voice. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, I know it’s worse. But I miss him, too, you know?”

  Matt took a deep breath. “He would have liked to hear you say that, Amanda.” They were quiet for a few more moments. “And I like to hear you say it, too. It helps.” He lifted the backpack he was holding. “The people from After Care gave me a little vase with Jack’s ashes. Got ’em right here. Jack never really told me what he wanted me to do with them. But I can’t just leave them at the trailer, you know? All cooped up in there. So I guess I need to find someplace to set them free.” He looked Amanda in the eyes. “I thought you might be able to help me.”

  Amanda wrapped Matt in a bear hug. He let her. “I’d love to help you.”

  Matt stepped back. He cleared his throat and inclined his head toward the nursing school doors. “So what happened?”

  Amanda’s face crumpled. She started to say something but then stopped. She just looked at the ground.

  “What? Wait—they didn’t let you in?”

  Amanda shook her head slowly.

  “That’s bullshit. What happened?”

  “Oh, you know me. It was a panel interview, and I’m no good with a bunch of people looking at me. People I don’t know yet.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I was nervous and awkward, and they said they had some concerns I’d be too timid for the program or to deal with patients.” She tried a smile. “It wasn’t all bad, though, I swear. They were actually pretty nice about it—encouraged me to do some more volunteer work at the hospital, maybe get a job for a year. Then reapply when I have some more experience.” She raised both palms. “It’s probably good advice, Matt.”

  “Timid? Are you shitting me?” Matt said. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Matt. I wish you were on the interview panel.” Amanda pulled her keys from her purse and unlocked the car door. “Come on. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “No way.” Matt started for the entrance.

  “What are you doing?”

  He turned. “I’m going in there to tell somebody you’ve already been working as a volunteer nurse these last few months. Available at all hours, calm under pressure, good bedside manner, all that shit. Best nurse I’ve ever seen. They have to let you in.”

  Amanda wiped her eyes again. “Matt…that’s sweet. But I don’t think it’s going to make any difference.”

  “Fine. If that doesn’t work, then I guess I can always beat the shit out of somebody in there.”

  Amanda looked surprised, then giggled. “That’s actually what I felt like doing.”

  Matt grinned. “Feels good, right?” He walked back to the car, took Amanda by the hand and pulled her toward the entrance. “Come on, we can at least try.” They walked toward the front doors together.

  This story would not exist without the Writing for Children and Young Adults MFA program at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. VCFA is a place where people are encouraged to take risks, to write something even though it might scare them to do so. It’s also a place where people are picked up and dusted off after the inevitable stumbling that comes with attempting to write a novel. A huge thank-you to everyone who helped me with this one in workshop, or who listened to me read from it, or who read it during its various stages and then offered comments and support. With extra special thanks to amazing author and advisor Uma Krishnaswami.

  Thank you to my wonderful editor, Phoebe Yeh, and her team, including Elizabeth Stranahan. Phoebe’s commitment to getting great stories into the hands of young people is inspiring. I’m honored that she chose this story and grateful for everything she did to help make it better.

  Thanks to my wife, Tracee Mullen Smith, for helping me find my way back to writing. And for everything else. I’m so grateful to be on this ride with her.

  The people who work for hospice are incredible, and I can’t thank them enough for everything they did during a very difficult time.

  The character of Uncle Jack is based on a man named Jerry Perkins. I don’t presume to know anything about the afterlife, but wherever he is now, I am sure that Jerry has that mischievous little twinkle in his eye as he makes everyone around him laugh.

  Finally, a heartfelt thank-you to the late editor and agent George Nicholson. George believed passionately in this story for many years and is a huge part of the reason that it made its way into the world. He changed my life several times over, and I miss him very much.

  Clete Barrett Smith is the author of the middle-grade Intergalactic Bed & Breakfast series (Aliens on Vacation, Alien on a Rampage, and Aliens in Disguise), as well as Magic Delivery. A lifelong resident of the Pacific Northwest, Smith taught English, drama, and speech at the high school level while continuing to write. You can follow him on Facebook, on Twitter (@CleteSmith), and online at cletebarrettsmith.com.

  About Mr. 60%, Clete says, “There are two reasons that I wrote this book. The first was that I helped care for a family member who died of cancer (and just like Uncle Jack in the book, he was a charismatic mess of a guy and I adored him). And the second reason was that I met kids a lot like Matt and Amanda while teaching, and I wanted to tell their story.”

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