Page 94 of The Otherworld

“Adam?”

I snap out of it, turning to look at Mom. “Yeah? Sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing. You just seem preoccupied.”

I rap my fingers on the steering wheel, slowing down for a red light. “I was just thinking about the parts I need to order for my Beaver.”

Mom glances over, watching my fingers. Tap, tap, tap.

“You were never much good at lying, you know. Jack, on the other hand—he’s an expert con man. He must get it from his father.”

A laugh stumbles out of me despite the heat blazing over my ears.

“I don’t mean just now,” Mom clarifies. “You’ve been preoccupied since you came back from that island.”

“It’s just the pain medication; it makes me tired. I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

“Not distracted at all?”

“No.”

BEEP! A car blares its horn right behind me. I startle at the sound, glancing up—

The light is green.

Mom smirks. “You might want to step on it.”

I curse under my breath, driving through the intersection and getting back up to speed.

“Would you like me to drive?”

“No,” I bite out.

Mom falls silent. For a few minutes, it’s nothing but rain and the quiet rumble of the engine. I feel a sense of relief when Mom brings up a different topic.

“Dad’s going to get Jack some work at the marina this summer.”

“Oh? And does Jack know about this yet?”

“Mm-hmm. I told him this morning. Wasn’t too thrilled, but you know Jack.”

I grunt in agreement, knowing exactly what she means.

“I think it will be good for him,” Mom adds. “He’s already made it clear he’s not interested in college, which is fine, but… I’d like to see him go after something. He’s not self-motivated like you.”

“No.”

“But maybe a job would help him gain some discipline.”

“Maybe.”

“At least it’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“Maybe,” I say with a half-smile. “Jack has a remarkable talent for getting himself into trouble—despite everyone’s best efforts to keep him out of it.”

My knuckles whiten around the steering wheel as I remember the debate we had a few mornings ago—a debate that has resurrected itself many times since, with no end in sight as long as I disagree with him on the topic. Our quarrels usually bother him much more than they bother me—and he won’t let me see the end of an argument until I’ve assured him that he is correct, in at least some small capacity.

“I hope he doesn’t try to interfere with Orca and her father.”

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