Second in Command

  THE DECISION

  The judge finishes her speech. Adjusts her glasses, and signs Jack’s forms. Dad thanks her for understanding. We all shake hands. When she gets to me, she says, Leo Solis. A fine young man looking after your brother like that. I expect great things from you. I feel the added weight on my shoulders. She grips my hand. Shakes it firmly, then lets it fall, sweaty, by my side. Don’t let life’s burdens pull you under. And remember, we are not on this road alone.

  SECOND IN COMMAND

  Me and Jack on the couch side by side. Focused. In the zone. It feels good to be together. But I know I can’t always be the one to fix things. I have to lean on him too. Jack Attack, I say. My Eagle project. I’m gonna need some help, right? He nods. I need you to lead the crew. Pauses the game. Don’t worry. I got your back, man.

  ON SUNDAY

  Dad makes pancakes. Reina stands on her stool next to him. Fills each one with smiley faces made from chocolate chips. Jack slices melon. I fill coffee cups and juice glasses. We are a team. We set a place for Mom and call her on dad’s phone. I smile when I see her face. Dad explained what happened, but Mom doesn’t bring it up. Instead she asks what’s for dinner. Reina laughs (she doesn’t understand time zones) and puts a pancake on Mom’s plate. We miss you, I say. I think about the calendar, each X closer to seeing her face in person.

  REVERENT

  That morning in church I think about what it means to have faith. To believe in God. To believe in a higher purpose. To believe in what’s meant to be.

  FORGIVENESS

  Jack is released on the grounds that he will help with repairs at school and make amends. The others are in more serious trouble. The judge agrees that Jack’s help on my Eagle project fulfills his community service. I draft my idea for review. We invite Zen and her mom to dinner. Jack offers to cook. The parents talk about laundry and bills and other boring adult things. We swap moving stories and compare our favorite places to live. I like it here, and think I might come back for college. Zen smiles. She wants to stay here, too. We eat and laugh. And even though our family puzzles are missing a piece, there is comfort in what fills the empty space.

  THE ENVELOPE

  It sits there. On the counter. My name typed in straight black letters. Mr. Leo Solis. I am afraid to open it. But I have learned a lot about fear and worry. And I refuse to ever let them win. The envelope rips. I read carefully. You have been invited to join the class of summer academy students. Invited. To join. My heart jumps. I’m in.

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  The sky drizzles familiar rain. Red, white, and blue ribbon weaves its way around benches that form a circle. A lone tree in the center. The plaque below dedicates the space to the men and women who fight for our freedom. I stand nervously. Scissors at the ready. Our scoutmaster scans the crowd. Boys from the troop, some with their families. Zen and her mom. Other support group members. Summer academy classmates. Looks like you brought the community together, Dad says. Everything looks great. This space—it’s the perfect way to honor local veterans. And to unite everyone. He pats my back then pulls me into him for a hug. Your mom would be proud, he says into my ear. He releases the hug but keeps hold of my shoulders. We look at each other and I see strength underneath his sadness. And something else. He smiles. I’m proud of you, son.

  FOREVER THANKFUL

  Jack is by my side as I cut the ribbon, dedicating the park to the men and women who serve. Dad and Reina sit in the front row. I wish Mom had made it home to see this. A group of people walk toward our site. I wonder if they’ve come to protest or are just curious. The crowd turns to watch. I feel my heart race. The group walks closer. And in the center wearing her uniform and a huge smile, Mom.