Super Jake and the King of Chaos

by Naomi Milliner

  Then I see him—sound asleep on the sofa, book open across his chest, glasses still on his face.

  “Dad?”

  He opens his eyes and looks around, like he doesn’t know where he is. “Ethan? What’s wrong?”

  “I dunno. Mrs. Todd is upstairs and—”

  He jumps off the sofa and takes the stairs two at a time. I race after him.

  “Rebecca called from the hospital,” Mrs. Todd says before Dad can even ask. “The phones are down because of the storm, and she couldn’t reach you on your cell.”

  “I must’ve forgotten to charge it,” Dad says. “Thank you for coming over.”

  “No problem.”

  Without another word, he goes down the hall. I hear a door close.

  “Who wants cocoa?” Mrs. Todd offers with a weird smile. Like maybe if she smiles wide enough, it will seem perfectly normal for her to be in our house in the middle of the night. Like that’s gonna fool anyone.

  “I do!” Freddy grins like an idiot.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “I really don’t know.” Mrs. Todd fills the kettle with water and places it on the stovetop.

  “Is Jake okay?” I clench my fingers into fists.

  She gently puts her hands on my shoulders. “Let’s wait and hear what your dad says, all right?” Before I can answer, she says, “Freddy, why don’t you grab some spoons and napkins? And Ethan, could you get the mugs?”

  Dad comes back just as the kettle gives off a really shrill whistle that makes my skin crawl. He looks terrible.

  He and Mrs. Todd walk to the door together. They speak so quietly I can only make out the last two words Dad says: “… tomorrow morning?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Todd replies. Dad thanks her and helps her with her coat and umbrella, then watches as she heads back out into the storm. When she gets across the street, he shuts the door. I follow him into the kitchen and watch him pour hot water into our mugs.

  “Is Jake dead?” Freddy blurts out.

  “Geez, Freddy! Shut up!” I yell, my heart pounding. “Of course he’s not dead, you stupid jerk!”

  “Daddy! He called me a—”

  “Jake is not dead. But he did have another setback.”

  Freddy slurps his cocoa. He’s acting all happy, like he’s settling in for a bedtime story.

  “How can you drink at a time like this?” I shout.

  “I’m thirsty,” he says in a very quiet voice.

  I push my mug as far away as I can. The lump in my throat makes it impossible for liquid to go down. I feel my eyes tear up, but I’m too mad to cry. “No one ever tells me anything!”

  “Me neither,” Freddy says.

  I’m about to yell at him some more, then I notice tears streaking down his cheeks, and I feel even worse.

  Dad sighs. “I’m sorry, guys. I know things are tough right now. And I don’t have a lot of answers. All I can tell you is the doctors are working very hard to help Jake.”

  “Can we see him?” I ask.

  “Not right now,” Dad says. “I’m going there in a few hours, and—”

  I already know the rest of his sentence. “We’re going to the Todds’, right?”

  He reaches out and puts Freddy’s hand in one of his and mine in the other. “Do you remember the very first time Jake came home? He had a monitor that would beep if he stopped breathing, a gigantic oxygen tank, and an NG tube that went up his nose and down to his stomach.”

  “The Energy tube?” Freddy asks.

  “Exactly.” Dad gives him a small smile. “Your mom and I asked you to be gentle because he was very fragile.”

  “Then you told us he was a fighter,” I say, remembering. “And he might get rid of all that stuff later on.”

  Dad nods. “And he did, too. Every single thing.”

  I think about how far Jake has come since then, and how hard he tries. If anyone can beat the odds, it’s Super Jake.

  A few hours later, we’re back at the Todds’ house.

  “I’m ready for another pancake!” Freddy tells Mrs. Todd.

  “Here.” I dump mine onto his plate as the doorbell rings. Chris answers the door, then calls my name.

  I head down the hall, wondering if it’s Daniel or Brian. Turns out it’s neither.

  “Hey,” Ned says. “I heard Jake’s in the hospital.…” He looks at his feet. “Is he… will he be okay?”

  I don’t know what to say, so I shrug.

  “I got something for him.” Ned reaches into his backpack. “I thought maybe he’d like it.” He hands me a plastic Daffy Duck. “It squeaks. See?” He squeezes it.

  “Thanks.” I want to say more. I want to tell him Jake would really like it and that I’m glad he likes Jake—that now he sees him for who he is. But the words don’t come.

  “Oh. I almost forgot.” He pulls out a wrinkled paper filled with colorful squiggles and princess stickers. “It’s from Wendy. For Jake.”

  There’s so much I want to say, only my throat’s too tight, so I just nod.

  “Well. I better get to school.”

  I nod again.

  He turns to go but looks back over his shoulder at me. “Tell Jake to feel better soon.”

  I’m super late to band, but the teacher just smiles at me. I make it to the rest of my classes on time. Except it’s like I’m not really there. Sometimes I’m seeing Jake hooked up to tubes and covered with that green blanket. Sometimes we’re wrestling on the living room couch or hurling Ninja Bear across the room together. I even come up with a new Food Island story during math class. Jake would really like it because he rescues Wendy and they have a tea party at the end.

  When I get home, the blue minivan is in our driveway. I sprint to the door and Dad wraps me in a bear hug.

  “You’re here! Is Jake doing better?”

  Dad shakes his head. “He’s still in Intensive Care, E. Mom and I came home to spend a little time with you and Freddy.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In bed, resting for a bit.”

  “Oh.”

  I follow him into the kitchen and watch him fix a mug of coffee. “Can I make you a snack?” he asks.

  “No, thanks.” I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. I want to talk more about Jake, but before I figure out what to ask, Dad puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “I need to make some phone calls, E. But later on, maybe you can show me some card tricks or we could watch something on TV?”

  “Sure, sounds good.”

  He squeezes my shoulder, grabs his mug of coffee, and goes downstairs. I stand there a second then head to my room. On the way, I stop by Jake’s room. It feels so empty without him. I sit on his little bed and I miss him and I wish he was here. I wish I’d spent more time playing with him and stretching him and telling him Food Island stories.

  Most of all, I wish wishes really came true.

  Dad makes dinner but Mom doesn’t eat.

  I don’t eat much, either.

  When Freddy asks her to play a game, she says not right now.

  I don’t feel like playing, either, but when Dad asks me to join Freddy and him for some board games, I do anyway. After, I finish my homework and take a shower.

  When I come out of the bathroom, the house is spooky quiet. I start to wonder if everyone left and forgot to tell me. But when I peek in Freddy’s room he’s on the floor, hard at work with crayons and magic markers.

  “What are you making?”

  “A picture for Mommy to take to Jakey tomorrow,” he answers without looking up.

  I see my parents’ bedroom light on. I’m about to knock when I hear her say something about Jake coming home.

  Maybe he’s doing better! I press my ear against the door to eavesdrop.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Dad says. “It’s not fair to the boys.…”

  “Fair?” Mom whisper-yells. “What does fair have to do with any of this?”

  For a minute it’s quiet, then Dad
says, “Maybe we should get some sleep. It’s hard to think straight when you’re exhausted.”

  “It’s hard to think straight when your son is dying,” Mom says.

  I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach.

  I can’t breathe.

  Can’t think.

  I take one step, then another, a zombie retreating down the hallway.

  I go to my room and close the door behind me. It’s a big mess, except for my magic trick props. Every container is carefully organized and color-coded: the blue has my oldest tricks; the yellow’s got all the cards; the orange has coins. Looking through them always makes me feel better.

  I pull out a few tricks, only they’re too easy; I need something challenging. I look through the sets of cards and find my favorite deck. It’s got gold edges and a picture of a real Swiss castle.

  I shuffle the cards with my left hand, then take a deep breath and try with my right. They fly all over my bed and onto the floor. I sweep them up and try again. And again. I can’t do it.

  I can’t do it without Super Jake.

  I look at the cards on my bed, the boxes of other props splayed out on the floor—they’re all worthless. Who cares about this junk? Trick decks and fake thumbs and plastic wands. Tooth fairies and Ninja Bear and Food Island. Pixie dust and make-believe.

  Like making believe Jake’s gonna be okay.

  I gather the cards to put them back in the box. I’ve got about half the deck in my hands then look at the other half, scattered all over the floor. Then I make a decision.

  I dump the half deck into my trash can, then pick up the rest from the floor and throw them in after.

  I’m just getting started.

  And it feels good.

  My eyes search the room for my next trash can victim. My hands reach out and grab the yellow box. I turn it upside down and all my other card decks tumble into the trash.

  Good riddance.

  I stare at the empty container for a few seconds, trying to decide if it’s worth keeping.

  I toss it in after the cards.

  My trash can’s getting pretty full. I go to my closet and yank out a huge plastic bag I use for overnights and empty the can’s contents into it.

  I grab the blue box next and it all spills out: sponge animals and metal rings and green plastic balls and a red scarf that changes colors and I throw every single thing into the bag.

  I’m sick of them all.

  I’m glad they’re gone.

  I’m about to grab my orange box when I see a “Miller’s Magic” flyer on the floor and I grab that instead, ripping it in half again and again ’til the pieces are too small to rip anymore. Then I throw them into the bag. I’m breathing hard and sweating and my stomach is cramping, but I don’t stop.

  It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

  I turn back to grab the orange box when, out of the corner of my eye, I see my wand and top hat sitting on the shelf. They fooled so many people for so long… me most of all.

  I throw the top hat to the floor and kick it. “I hate you!” I kick it again. “I HATE YOU!” I stomp on it again and again until, finally, it collapses like a dead dream.

  “What’re you doing?”

  I look up and see Freddy, but he’s kind of blurry. “What’s it look like?” I rub my watery eyes with the back of my hand.

  He’s staring at me like I’ve gone nuts. “Your top hat. All your magic tricks!”

  “It’s over.” I wipe my face and grab the smashed top hat and shove it into the bag, along with the rest.

  “What’s over?”

  I tie the bag and lug it toward the door. “Everything. Dumb tricks, stupid shows…”

  He blocks my way. “What if you change your mind?”

  “I won’t.”

  “But what about all the magic—”

  “Don’t you get it, Freddy? There’s no such thing as magic!”

  I turn away from his shocked expression, squeeze past him into the hall, and dump the bag into the garbage can.

  It’s morning. We’re sitting around the breakfast table like everything’s fine. Like Jake’s gonna be fine.

  Like I still believe in magic.

  “Dad and I are going to spend the night with Jake.” Mom adds a second waffle to my plate before I even touch the first. “So, after school go to—”

  “The Todds’,” I interrupt.

  The phone rings. Mom and Dad stare at it, neither moving.

  “I’ll get it!” Freddy jumps up, but Dad intercepts him and Mom grabs the phone, holding it like a snake about to bite.

  “Hello?” she holds her breath, then her shoulders relax. “Oh, hi, Rox. I’m sure Jake misses Wendy, too.” Mom steps into the other room so we don’t have to watch her cry.

  The last bell rings and the school day is finally over. I’m gathering my stuff when Ms. Carlin sits down next to me.

  “Do you have a minute?” she asks.

  “Sure.” It’s not like I’m in a big hurry to go to the Todds’ house. Again.

  “Things aren’t going well with Jake, are they?”

  I shake my head.

  “Would it help to talk about it?”

  I shake my head again. We sit there a minute or two. I’m not sure if she wants to say something else, or if she wants me to.

  “There is something I’ve been thinking about,” I hear myself say. “Y’know that report on heroes?”

  She nods.

  “I was thinking, just cuz someone’s famous doesn’t mean they’re a hero. I mean, some famous people are the opposite of heroes. Like Bonnie and Clyde, or Hitler.”

  “Very true,” Ms. Carlin says.

  “And some people, who really are heroes, aren’t famous at all. Like my grandfather. He gave up five years of his life to fight overseas in World War II. He doesn’t talk about it much, but my grandma says he was responsible for the lives of all the soldiers under him and every single one made it home safely.”

  “That’s wonderful. And you’re absolutely right, Ethan. He is a hero. You must be proud of him.”

  “I am. But I think Jake’s a hero, too, even though no one will ever hear about him. He can’t walk, and he can’t talk. He can’t even sit up by himself, but he never stops trying.…”

  Ms. Carlin hands me a tissue, then puts her face right in front of mine and looks at me. Hard. “Listen to me. Jake’s a fighter. He could still pull through.”

  I’ve been wanting to hear that for days. Now that I finally do, I don’t believe it.

  When I get to the Todds’, Freddy’s showing a card trick to Mrs. Todd. It’s one of the first I learned, and I taught it to him one day when he was sick and I felt sorry for him. I watch from beside the doorframe, where they can’t see me.

  “Now put the card back anywhere you want,” Freddy instructs her. Mrs. Todd sticks it somewhere in the middle of the deck. Freddy flips through the cards, then picks out one of them. “Is this it?”

  Mrs. Todd smiles. “Sure is! Look at that. One day, you’re going to be a great magician like your big brother.”

  “No,” Freddy says. “I’ll never be as good as Ethan.”

  “You never know,” I say from the doorway.

  Freddy grins at me.

  The smile on his face makes me feel like, maybe, I’ve done something right. Mrs. Todd invites me to join them, so the three of us do a few more card tricks and I forget everything for a while. Well, almost.

  Once Freddy sits down to work on his homework with Mrs. Todd, I go to the living room to face my own. I start with math, but the only problems on my mind are five minus one equals no Jake.

  When I look at the clock again, it’s almost six, and the phone hasn’t rung yet.

  Mrs. Todd calls us for dinner, which is spaghetti.

  It’s not as good without Jake there to sample the sauce.

  After dinner, Mr. Todd challenges Freddy to a game of checkers, which means Chris and I can escape to the basement to play Monopoly until his mom say
s it’s time for bed. We’re almost done putting the money and properties away when Chris stops and looks at me.

  “You know, I’m really proud of you.”

  “Why? I was down to seventy-three dollars and had to mortgage half my properties.”

  He laughs. “I mean how well you’re handling everything. How you’ve stepped up to help your parents and take care of Freddy.”

  “Oh.” I move the little green houses around so I don’t have to look at him. “I dunno.”

  “Well, I do. And you have. You and Jake have taught me a lot.”

  I shrug, not knowing what to say. It feels strange to think I’ve taught Chris.

  I find Mrs. Todd in the living room, sewing a button onto one of Chris’s flannel shirts. There’s another colossal storm going on, the rain coming down so hard I can’t even make out my house across the street.

  I wish I were there instead of here. At home when there’s a storm, we all sit on the sofa together, watching the lightning and listening to the thunder.

  “Is it okay if I stay up awhile?” I ask Mrs. Todd. “Mom always calls when she spends the night away.”

  “How about you and I chat for a bit?” She puts down the shirt and pats the spot next to her on the sofa.

  “So, how are you holding up?” she asks, her voice soft and serious.

  I shrug. “I dunno. I miss Jake.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I hate sitting around doing nothing.”

  “You’re doing plenty,” she says. “Looking out for Freddy, thinking about Jake, loving him. He knows how much you care about him.”

  “You think so?”

  “No doubt about it.”

  The lights flicker, go out, and come back on. Maybe it’s Jake saying hi. Or goodbye.

  “Jake will always be your baby brother. Nothing can ever change that.” She hugs me tight, then hands me a flashlight, “In case we lose power in the middle of the night.”

  When I get to our room Freddy’s wide awake, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Pita Rabbit by his side. There’s a red magic marker in his hand and the rest are scattered all around. From the rainbow on his cheeks and hands, I’d guess he’s been drawing for a while.