Lights Out by Ruthie Robinson Page A

in the house with Shane,” he said.
    “What’s the big deal? I know these guys. They’re harmless,” she replied.
    “I’m sure, but it’s not what I hired you for. So, again, thanks for taking care of Shane.” He reached for his wallet, took out enough to cover what he owed her, and handed it to her.
    “I don’t know what to say.”
    “Nothing is required. Come on, I’ll see you out,” he said, waiting as she walked out of the kitchen and called out to her friends. They came, the two from Shane’s room, the four from the front, bewildered at first, and then angry, but leaving, which was all he cared about.
    “So I’m not working here anymore?” she asked.
    “No, you are not. Oh, let me have the key to the front door,” he said. The confused expression on her face was priceless. She reached into her purse and pulled his key from her ring, gave it to him and followed her friends out of his home.
    Okay, back to square one, Joe thought, heading back to the kitchen as Shane walked into the living room.
    “Where did everyone go?” Shane asked.
    “Home. You hungry?” Joe asked.
    “Nope, I treated April to Jack in the Box on our way home from school. Used my allowance,” he said proudly.
    Joe inwardly groaned and rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to clean up the kitchen then. I could use some help and conversation,” he said. He could use some sleep, but he liked to talk to Shane find out what was going on in school and his life.
    “Sure,” Shane said.
    “So how is school?” Joe asked, walking in the direction of the kitchen.
    “Fine. Taylor and I have been assigned a project together,” Shane said, following him.
    “Really,” he said, walking to the sink, putting the stopper in while reaching below for some soap.
    “I like her a lot. She plays soccer and basketball,” he said.
    “That’s good,” Joe said, running his hands through the water and moving to stack plates. He ran them through the suds before putting them in the dishwasher—a habit he’d picked up from his foster mom, one of the many household tips she’d taught him. He spent many a night in her kitchen, helping her clean up. She listened to his seventeen-year-old self, his anger and hurt. That was all so long ago.
    “Basketball, huh?” he said to Shane.
    “Yep. And she’s smart, and pretty, and fun,” he said.
    Joe listened as Shane moved on to the other parts of his day and his life. He allowed his nephew’s voice to quiet some of the stress he’d felt from work, reminding him of work’s place, behind his family. Shane was his family. He’d worry about finding a new sitter tomorrow. Tonight he’d just enjoy his nephew, maybe watch a movie or a game or something and fall asleep on the couch. Sounded like a perfect ending to this week.
    * * *
     
    The following week Piper walked down the hallway searching for Taylor’s locker and a forgotten assignment. She found the locker and placed Taylor’s assignment in the blue folder as per her sister’s instructions. Might as well snoop a little, now that she was here. She was surprised at how neat and tidy it was. It was color-themed with coordinated shelving, a mirror, and pencil holders magnetically clinging to the inside of her locker. This generation had all the cool stuff.
    She closed the door. It was quiet in the hall. She made her way down the hall, headed toward the exit, until she heard that voice—Joe’s voice. What is he doing here? she wondered, moving toward the sound, which was coming from a classroom.
    The door was open, providing a clear view to the inside. She would be able to peer in if she stood a ways back. She didn’t want to be seen, just to see, and this spot afforded her the best opportunity to do both.
    It was the computer lab. Kids were sitting around computers while Joe, of all people, talked. Was he teaching? She listened for a second and yep, he was indeed lecturing, making jokes, and explaining something computer-related to the kids. She