Crow's Row

Griff was still standing by the tree line. I purposefully ignored him and smugly walked

into the cool, air-conditioned house.

Rocco was slouched at the kitchen table with two empty frozen dinner cartons in front of him and

a third one well on its way. I copied him and threw a frozen cardboard in the microwave.

Out of everything and everyone, Rocco being upset with me, even if it was for absolutely no

reason, seemed the worst of all.

“I didn’t say anything to Cameron about your age. I didn’t even know that he was going to

make you do this,” I told him while the microwave counted down.

“I know. I wasn’t mad at you. Not really anyway. I just really hate school,” he said and

shoveled rubberized meat in his mouth.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard and too boring and it’s a waste of time. I don’t need school to

work for Cameron.”

“Hmmm …” I thought out loud, “You know, you could use this to your advantage.” With his

interest piqued, Rocco looked up and listened. I continued my train of thought. “You could tell

Cameron that you’ll do the homework and get your GED if he takes you along when he goes to

work.”

“Like blackmail?” he asked with hesitance.

“Call it a negotiation tactic.”

Rocco enthusiastically chewed over this and grinned to his ears.

“Negotiation tactic … I like it.”

“I’ll even help you do the homework, if you want. It’ll be easy, you’ll see. Before you know

it, you’ll have your GED and won’t ever have to think about it again,” I proposed, to seal

the deal.

Rocco gave me a heartwarming smile. “Thanks, Emmy.”

I peeled the lid off my steaming TV dinner and burned two fingers.

Rocco looked up questioningly. “Did you and Cameron have a fight or something?”

“Not really,” I said with a mouthful of burnt fingers. I wasn’t sure if Cameron thinking that

I was a hopeless coward counted as us fighting. Then I wondered if Cameron has said something to

his kid brother. “Why do you ask?”

Rocco shrugged. “He was in a really bad mood this morning. I haven’t seen him in a mood like

that since you got here.”

“How was he before I got here?” I was all ears.

“I don’t know. Mad, I guess.” He then decided to pull back a bit to defend his brother. “I

rarely saw him. He worked. All the time.”

“Doing what?”

“Beats me,” he muttered. “I never get to go along, remember?”

Rocco brought his empty cartons into the kitchen and sat back down at the table, watching me

finish my cardboard meal and breathing loudly.

“I’m bored,” he finally admitted. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

I looked over at the forms that were still on the table where I had neatly stacked them earlier

that morning. Rocco let his head fall back in despair as he understood my meaning.

“No time like the present,” I told him brightly. And, to annoy him a little bit more, I added,

“We should probably get started on the laundry too … since we both lost at poker.”

Technically, he had lost two seconds before me—but who was keeping track?

I thought Rocco was going to start crying after my last suggestion.

It had been a lovely afternoon of filling out forms, struggling over homework assignments and

never-ending piles of laundry to wash and fold. We had barely made a dent in the laundry room

when the clock neared dinnertime. Music thumped in the distance again.

By the time the troops started making their way downstairs for dinner, Rocco and I were

finishing up a load of bath towels. He kept eying the kitchen doorway, antsy to show his big

brother the work that he had done and commence the negotiation round.

Dinner came and went. Cameron never walked through the doorway. Disappointed, Rocco went to the

couch. The two of us lounged in front of the TV for the rest of the night and eventually fell

asleep on the couch. We were awoken at midnight when Cameron finally dragged himself in and

pilfered through the kitchen cupboards.

Rocco waited impatiently for Cameron to make his way to the table and got up, picking up the

work that he had strategically lain next to him. He dropped the papers on the table in front of

Cameron. I smiled after him—his unfettered excitement made me excited for him.

Cameron sighed, his eyes small and lifeless. “Not tonight, Rocco.”

Rocco looked jittery as he willed his brother to look at the documents. “But I want to talk to

you about this. Look I’ve done all of this work—”

“I said not tonight,” Cameron snapped.

Rocco and I both jumped. He looked at me despairingly. I didn’t know what to say.

He glared at Cameron and then flung the papers on the table. He stomped back to his room and

slammed the door behind him. It was a déjà vu from this morning.

Cameron continued absentmindedly picking at his food. I scowled, but he didn’t notice.

I got up and decided to let him brood in peace.

“You were talking to Frances today?” he called out as I reached the doorway.

“Yes,” I responded, refusing to look at him.

“What did you talk about?” he asked evenly.

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