Lights Out by Ruthie Robinson

drag it out like she usually does.”
    They were quiet, watching the kids play.
    “So how was your day?” he asked.
    “Fine. Yours?”
    “Fine,” he replied. They went back to silence again, watching the kids finish the dance. She was nervous again. Joe looked down at this watch.
    “Getting settled in to school?” he asked.
    “Yes, figured out how to check grades online,” she said.
    “Good thing to know. You’re welcome to call if you have a school-related question. I might know the answer.”
    “Thanks,” she said, watching her sister and Shane, laughing as Taylor missed a step. “You know if you need any help with Shane, feel free to call. My sisters like him and it would be easy to pick him up when I grab the girls.”
    “Thanks,” he said, looking at her, pleased by her offer. “Well, I’d better get going,” he said, heading toward the corner to the kids. She pushed away from the counter and followed him over.
    “Shane, dude.”
    “Hey, Uncle Joe. I’m almost done here. I’m winning.”
    “That’s good, but we need to get moving. Tell everyone thanks,” he said, reaching for Shane’s backpack from the floor.
    “Thanks for letting me come home with you today,” Shane said, stepping off the mat.
    “We enjoyed it. You have to come back another time, maybe on the weekend, and you can stay longer with us.”
    “Can I come this weekend?” Shane asked his uncle.
    “We’ll see,” Joe said. “Thanks again,” he said to Piper before he and Shane walked toward the front door.
    She watched them leave. She glanced at her watch—6:30. It was pushing past time for her crew to head home.
    “Let’s go, girls,” she said, turning and heading toward her office.

Chapter 8
    Second week in September
     
    Joe was tired. He had gotten home later than he liked two days in a row; at eight yesterday, and now he was walking up to his door at eight-thirty. Thank God it was Friday. Fortunately he’d found a sitter for Shane who seemed to be working out okay so far. She’d picked him up from school both days he ran late. She was a college student, a little flighty, but sweet.
    Joe unlocked the front door, and was surprised to walk in and find several people in his home. There seemed to be a party going on, and he hadn’t gotten his invitation. There were kids present—well they weren’t kids really—maybe nine years younger or so than him. He wondered when he’d gotten old. They smiled, said hi, and he smiled back. He walked toward the kitchen, where he found yet more party guests.
    “Hey, Joe, you’re home early,” the sitter, April, said, all chipper. She opened the door to the refrigerator, pulled out his gallon of milk, and walked to the counter, where she poured some into a bowl. Empty egg shells sat in an egg carton next to the bowl.
    “I’m making an omelet,” she said, putting the top back on the milk, picking up the fork and beginning to stir. “Some of my friends were hungry, so I decided to make enough for us all. I told them you wouldn’t mind, that you’d be cool with it.”
    “Where’s Shane?” he asked.
    “In his room, I think.”
    Joe turned and walked out the door toward Shane’s room. Yep, there was Shane, sitting on his bed, watching as two other college-age boys sat on the floor, controllers in their hands, playing a video game.
    “Hey, Uncle Joe,” Shane said from the bed, smiling before pointing to the two young men seated at the foot of his bed, feet stretched out before them, crossed at the ankles, bodies twisting as they gave chase to some alien on the screen.
    “Hey, dude,” they said in unison, eyes darting in between Joe and their game.
    Joe turned and walked back to the kitchen.
    “April, I’ll take over from here,” he said, holding his hand out for the fork, turning off the heat on the stove. “It’s been a long day. You and your crew should leave.”
    She seemed startled.
    “Is there a problem?” she asked.
    “Nope, just wanted you and only you