“Of course. Why? Has he been skipping?” I ask as I climb the stairs to the porch.
Dad nods. “Your Ma got a call from the vice principal two days ago. Because apparently it was his fourth sick day in the last two weeks.”
“Shit.” I shake my head. “He has nine months left and then he’s free. What the hell is he doing?”
“Maybe ask him over pancakes,” Dad replies. “Because your Ma is pissed not just at him but at me for not noticing he was doing it. At this point, she wants him to move into her place in town and you know we need him here. But I need him to graduate, so…I’m thinking about it.”
As if on cue, the screen door swings open and Jace walks out. The sleepy expression on his face shifts to confusion when he sees me and then annoyed when he sees Dad. “I’m going. I’m going. I’ll take a selfie with the school bus driver if you want proof. You don’t have to have Tate drive me.”
“I was actually here to take you to breakfast,” I tell him. “But if you want that selfie with sixty-year-old Eddie the bus driver and his vibrant array of seventies concert shirts, feel free to say no.”
“I’m in.”
“Straight home after school, Jace,” Dad calls out as we make our way to the truck. “Not only do we have apples to pick, you’re grounded.”
“I know. I know.” Jace rolls his eyes aggressively as he slams my truck door.
I hop in and get us on our way. Jace talks about the farm and football the whole way to the diner, and I let him because I don’t want to rile him up before we get there—and I drop my bomb. He tells me about the progress they’re making with the barn and how we, luckily, have less crappy unsellable apples than last year. “And Dad was able to make another payment on the mortgage, so the bank is easing off for now.”
“Really? How? Why didn’t he tell me?” I ask.
“Raquel actually contributed some of her paycheck,” Jace says scratching at his pathetic excuse for beard stubble. He’s trying to go for the scruffy hipster look, but he’s only eighteen and his beard is duck fluff at best. “And Dad took a drywall job last weekend.”
“What?” I steal a stunned glance at Jace. My dad used to want to be a builder and have his own contracting business. He even took night school courses when I was young and was in the drywallers’ union. But my grandparents needed more and more help at the farm and so he gave it up. Or so I thought.
Jace nods. “Yeah. It was hell at the farm because we had to work twice as hard all weekend and Raquel, of course, didn’t show up to work Saturday. We had more visitors than ever but Gramps wouldn’t even let me call her and yell at her because she donated half her paycheck to the mortgage, so she earned her day off, he said.”
“You donate every hour of your damn life. So does Dad,” I say, annoyed, as I pull into a parking spot. “Why does he always cut her and Aunt Louise so much slack?”
“He never expected Raquel to give up her senior activities, but Grandpa flat out told me to not ask for money for silly parties just because I was graduating,” Jace says and jumps out of the truck as I turn it off. He leaves his school knapsack on the front seat.
“If you want to go on the trips, I’ll find a way for you to go, Jace,” I say and he shrugs.
“I kind of wanted to go on the ski trip in January, but it’s no big deal,” Jace says. In the back of my head I make a mental note to save money for his trip. “Are you excited for the game tonight? We’re all going. The whole family.”
“I am. A little jittery but that will pass. First game of the season is always a little nerve-wracking,” I explain as I open the door to the restaurant and Jace walks in.
We find a booth and slide in. After the waitress pours us both coffee and takes our orders, I stare at him while he stirs in an alarming amount of sugar to his coffee. “Jace. You have to graduate.”
He sighs but doesn’t lift his eyes from his mug. “I will. Relax.”
“Can you do it without making it as hard as possible? So Mom and Dad don’t fight more and lose years off their lives with worry?” I say and sip my own coffee.
He finally looks up and frowns. “Yeah. Fine. I just…who even cares if I graduate? I could get a GED, you know. It’s not like I’m going to college.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m definitely not getting a full scholarship like you, even though my grades aren’t hideous. We don’t have the money, even for state school,” Jace reminds me what I definitely already know.
“You will qualify for aide, and I’ll hopefully be making enough money to pay off your loans in a couple of years,” I remind him. “And even if the pro thing doesn’t pay off, I’ll have the farm back on its feet and will help you pay them off. We paid for Raquel’s ridiculously overpriced online cosmetology classes. We can pay for you.”
“I don’t even know what I would take.” He sighs.
“I thought you wanted to go into the veterinary program?”
“I did, but it’s not practical,” Jace says and pauses to sip his coffee. “We don’t have animals on the farm, and that’s where I’m going to end up. Just like you.”
“What if we didn’t need you for manual labor?” I ask. “What if we had animals that you could tend to? Or even better, enough other people to run the farm so you could start your own veterinary practice?”