Page 55 of Jacob Michaels is Dead

“I know. You were an amazing Professor Harold Hill.”

“When in Rome.”

“Ohio?”

“Close enough.”

“Don’t let an Iowan hear you say that.” Lucas laughed. “They’ll be fit to be tied over in I-Oh-Way.”

“We’re both going to be in trouble with a capital ‘T.’” I teased.

Lucas smiled crookedly as he turned his gaze from the sun-sparkling water and looked at me. I did my best not to swallow down whatever it was that was making my belly feel the way it felt as he looked at me. His blonde hair seemed to practically glow in the spring sun. His eyes looked even more like jade than they usually did. Puberty was having its way with Lucas—in all the best ways. His jaw was becoming sharper, stronger. His baby fat was being shed, and days playing football was making him lean and muscular. But none of that accounted for what hid behind the jade of his eyes. Kindness can be exercised, but it can’t be learned. Lucas was intimately familiar with the concept.

“You’re really funny.”

I shrugged.

“What does that mean?” Lucas mimicked my shrug with a small chuckle.

“I don’t know.” I had to keep myself from shrugging again.

Lucas stared at me for a moment before turning to walk along the shore of the lake again. I followed silently, my hands still in my pockets. Suggesting more activities we could do instead of nothing came to mind, but I let it go. Spending time with Lucas at the lake had actually become my favorite activity very quickly. I just didn’t want him to get bored with it.

“Are you coming to the football game on Friday?”

“I guess,” I said, “I mean, I always do, right? Everyone does.”

We both chuckled.

“Do you usually watch the game…or do you ignore it like everyone else?”

“I watch.”

He glanced out at the lake quickly then gave an upward nod.

“Do you…I mean, you cheer for me, right?”

I gave him a nudge with my shoulder as we walked.

“Obviously.”

He smiled, his eyes down.

“Grandpa cheers really loudly, so if I can single anyone out in the crowd, it’s usually him.”

“I guess I’ll have to cheer louder.” I shrugged, regardless of my desires.

“You don’t really like sports, do you?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” I said. “Not really.”

“But you still go to the football games?”

“Something to do on a Friday night, right?”