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âWhat did you say your relation to Isaiah Pope was?â
Jeremiah leaned back in his seat, deliberately casual. âIâm his uncle. His favorite uncle, actually. Iâm just helping out until the kidsâ mom gets over the flu.â
âI see.â The shop class teacher kept staring at Jeremiahâs face, as if itâd give away all his secrets. The boy â just turned sixteen, he was pleased to tell anyone who cared to listen â looked like he was in his forties about now. He figured that was close enough to their real uncles age to pass for him, more or less. And his mom really was sick right now, even if it was just for today. But the teacher â Miss Barbull â she didnât need to know that. âIâd feel more comfortable discussing Isaiahâs problems with a parent, but if theyâve given you permission, I suppose thereâs no sense complaining.â
Jeremiahâs smile had always come easy, and it certainly did now. He knotted his fingers together in his lap and threw his attention to the conversation. âLetter said Isaiahâs been causing trouble?â
âUnfortunately, yes. Heâs not taking his work seriously, making frankly inappropriate things and insisting itâs part of the assignment. Iâd hoped detention would put an end to it, but so far, no luck. I was hoping his parents â or yourself, I suppose â could talk some sense into the boy.â
He nodded in what he hoped was a sagelike manner, as if this made sense to him. Of course it did! His parents were stressed lately, for reasons they hadnât shared with the brothers just yet. Jeremiah had decided to do this one thing, as much for them as for Isaiah: he always intercepted the mail from school, acted on it where he could. Phone calls with disguised voices, forged signatures, interviews avoided with so many excuses he couldnât remember even half of them. When heâd first started using his power, one of the go-to uses had been to get himself and Isaiah out of trouble. Just because Is didnât talk to him anymore, didnât mean he couldnât keep up the habit. âI think I can talk to him for you. At least see whatâs up.â
The teacher eyed him from behind thick-lensed glasses. Sheâd taught Jeremiah four years ago, not that she seemed to remember him. After all, he hadnât wanted to take shop. Mostly heâd spent the lessons bothering her about how she saw with the combination of safety glasses and spectacles. Yeah, he asked the meaningful questions. âRight. I trust you have this handled, Mister Pope. Or can at least approach your family to coordinate an appropriate solution, should you fail.â
âSure, thanks,â Jeremiah agreed, getting to his feet. âIâll see what I can do.â
The woman showed him out of the office, to where Isaiah awaited his presence. She left, and Jeremiah was left to follow his little brother out of the school building. Near the bike rack â because they didnât want to walk to school, thanks ever so much â Jeremiah reverted himself back to a teenager with a, âYouâre making dicks out of wood, arenât you?â
âSo what if I am? Youâre not my real uncle.â
Jeremiah very nearly groaned aloud. Nearly. He repressed it at the last possible moment. âYou want to be the one to tell mom that Barbull wants you suspended because of creative differences?â
Isaiah snorted. âYou want to be the one to tell mom that the only reason she doesnât know that already is âcause her precious oldest has some weird ability to be older than he is?â
âOh, yeah, âcause sheâll believe it if either of us tell her. Epitome of trust, captain dick.â
âYouâre the dick, dick! What, you trying to save me from the shop teacher? She couldnât see two feet in front of her without those glasses, Iâll be fine.â
âIf you get yourself suspended â !â Jeremiah stopped, closing his eyes. âLook. Look. Momâs been really stressed lately, with that performance review or whatever, plus grandma being grandma. Can you maybe wait til thatâs over before you get into more trouble?â
Isaiah was unchaining his bike, clearly not interested in listening. âOh, thatâs rich, coming from you. Remind me who it was who saw Resident Evil without momâs permission when they were thirteen?â
Fortunately â or unfortunately â Jeremiah knew he was getting through. The tense shoulders gave it away. âThatâs not the point right now, and you know it. Isaiah. Is. Look at me. Câmon.â
It took a long beat, but the second Isaiah dropped the bike lock, he knew heâd won, at least for the moment. Isaiahâs eyes on his werenât patient and understanding, and he immediately folded his arms in a fit of defensiveness. Jeremiah didnât care; it was still progress.
âIs. Mom and dad have both been stressed as hell lately, you know that. If you got into trouble in school, itâd make them more stressed, and theyâd take it out on you. Just trying to stop that from happening right now, okay? Thatâs all. Iâm not trying to trick you or whatever.â
The younger was clearly still suspicious, but it seemed to fade. His shoulders slumped, at least, and his arms fell by his side. âAlright, fine. Iâll stop making dicks in class. At least until mom calms down.â
Jeremiahâs smile was warm, and he clapped a hand on his brothers shoulder before reaching for his own bike. âThatâs all Iâm asking, Is. Thanks.â