Jesse continued on to his target: the ancient laptop. It beckoned from the kitchen table. Battered case folded shut and topped by a waiting Home Run/Zombie Bear.
Jesse’s mother liked rules. One of them was no TV or computer time on school mornings. Monday through Friday they both got up at 6:30 A.M. They ate breakfast together, then Jesse’s mom packed his lunch while he got dressed, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair. By 7:20, he was thundering down the apartment stairs to the curb below, where he caught the 7:30 bus.
That was the drill. Jesse went to school, his mom went to work.
Monday through Friday, Jesse followed the schedule, played by the rules. It made his mom happy, and Jesse liked it when his mom was happy. She smiled more, ruffled his hair, bought him treats she didn’t really approve of, such as Twinkies. It was just the two of them, Jenny and Jesse against the world, she would tell him. They would snuggle together on the sofa each night, where she would read him Goosebumps novels and he would rest his head against her chest like he was still a little kid and it was all right, because it was just the two of them, Jesse and Jennifer against the world.
Jesse loved his mother.
Jesse couldn’t sleep last night. He couldn’t stop thinking about Helmet Hippo and their afternoon together on AthleteAnimalz.com. Jesse had always enjoyed the website. It was something to do. But yesterday … Yesterday had been way cool. He’d not only had something fun to do, he’d had someone fun to do it with. A real friend who believed in Jesse, thought Jesse could do anything. An older kid who liked him.
Jesse wanted to go back online.
Even though it was a school morning.
He had a plan. First up, he’d set his watch alarm for one hour before his mother woke up. Sun wasn’t even up yet, so his room had been cold and dark as he’d crawled quietly out of bed. He’d paused long enough for his fleecy bathrobe. Then, the soft glow of the hallway night-light had beckoned him out of his dark room, into the apartment, where he followed its glow toward the family room. The sound of his footsteps were dampened by his footy PJs until at last, he arrived, on a school morning, in front of the computer. He chewed his lower lip. Eyed Zombie/Home Run Bear.
Gave in to the impulse.
Quickly, he shoved aside Zombie Bear, popped open the top, hit the power button, and heard the computer whine wearily to life.
The old computer took a while to load. So, while it woke up, Jesse moved on to the next phase of his plan. He was going to feed himself breakfast. Then, he was going to fix his own lunch. Then, he was going to pack his own backpack.
That way, when his mother got up, and inevitably discovered him on the computer, she couldn’t get too mad. He’d eaten breakfast, right? He was all ready for school, right? He’d even helped her by fixing his own lunch, right?
Sometimes, rules could be bent a little. It was just a matter of proper mom management.
Jesse tiptoed into the tiny kitchenette. He cracked open the refrigerator, using its glow to guide him as he carefully climbed onto the kitchen counter, eased down a bowl, found the Cheerios, poured the milk. Breakfast took about five minutes. He resisted the urge to check on the computer, as the kitchen table was next to his mother’s bedroom and activity in there was more likely to wake her. Better to stay tucked away in the kitchen, getting through morning chores.
Next up, lunch. He was a bologna man. Liked it with a little mayo and one slice of Kraft American cheese. He preferred white bread, but his mother only bought wheat. White is like eating a piece of sugar, she told him, which only made him like white bread more.