Page 38 of Palm South University: Season 2

“WHAT’S UP, BABY BROTHER?”

“About time you answered your phone!” Clayton says as I toss my gym bag into the corner of my room. I’m taken aback by the deepness of his voice. He just turned thirteen, and already I can tell he’s about to hit the glorious days of puberty. “I have a serious question.”

“Uh oh. Do I need to sit down?” I joke, kicking off my basketball shoes. I push the speaker-phone option on my phone and set it on the bathroom counter as I start the shower.

“Mac and I are stuck on this mission in Grand Theft Auto and can’t figure it out. We’ve been here for hours, bro.”

I laugh. “I can’t believe I was playing basketball and missed your calls during this tragic time.”

“I know. What a shitty big brother you are.”

“Hey!” I scold as I peel my still-wet t-shirt over my head. “Since when do you curse?”

“It’s not a big deal. Mac says shit all the time.”

I frown. “You’ve been over at Mac’s a lot lately.”

There’s a pause on Clayton’s end and I still, wondering if there’s something he’s not telling me. “Sorry. I’ll cool it on the cursing, Mom.”

I laugh, asking him for more details on the mission he’s on and walking him through it while the bathroom steams up. We chat for a while, mostly about school, not even a little bit about mom or Carlton. It feels good to catch up with Clayton and I can’t help but feel like I should do it more often. Just because I’m not in the same state doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be there for him. I’m the closest thing he has to someone to look up to in his life.

That fact hits me hard. I haven’t heard from mom or Carlton since I gave them enough money to get them out of whatever trouble they were in last semester, which gives me hope, at least, that they’re doing okay. Still, just because I haven’t heard from them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t pick up my phone and call Clayton more often.

“Hey,” I say just as we’re about to hang up. “Why don’t you come down for family weekend? I’ll book the flight. We can hit the beach and go go-karting.”

“Really?” Clayton asks, excited.

“Yeah, really. I’ll even let you get your ass kicked in Halo if you’re lucky.”

“Hey, what happened to no cursing?”

“I’m twenty-one. I’m allowed to curse.”

He chuckles. “I really would like to. I feel like there’s a lot we never get to talk about with all the distance, you know?”

I run my hand through my fade, catching my own eyes in the mirror. “Yeah I know. It’ll be fun. I’ll text you later with the flight details. If mom is upset or has questions, just have her call me,” I add, jaw tensing at the mention of her.

“I doubt she will, but yeah, I’ll tell her. Love you, big bro.”

“You too.”

We end the call and I thumb through my music, pressing play on a J Cole song and setting it to shuffle through my playlist. I take my time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles from playing hard at the courts. My knees are tight, arms sore, and I’m ready to collapse in bed and watch ESPN. But as I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist, I see a completely different option presented.

“Your clothes smell, dude.” Shawna says, her small frame leaning against the bathroom counter. “Like, bad.”

“Hi to you, too.”

“Hi,” she says, kissing me swiftly before propping her ass on the bathroom counter, shamelessly watching me dry off. “There’s an art festival in town. You should take me.”

I chuckle. “You have absolutely zero fucks to give about the normal way people do things, huh?”

“Normal is boring.”

“What do I get out of this deal?”

“My company, of course. Plus we can knock out that extra credit assignment for our art class. It’s a win-win.”

I brace my hands on either side of her legs on the counter, boxing her in, watching as her eyes follow the beads of water gliding down my chest. “Hmm… so what you’re saying is you want me to do homework with you. Sounds like a favor of sorts.”