Free Jack Strong Takes a Stand by Tommy Greenwald Page B

came out and gave me hot cider.
    I looked at her. “You guys do know it’s not winter, right?”
    â€œWell, you can’t be too careful,” Nana said.
    The cider was delicious.
    It started raining harder.
    Maddie stood at the window, staring at me like I was crazy.
    She had a good point.
    I had nothing to do because I couldn’t use my cell phone in the rain, I couldn’t read in the rain, and I sure couldn’t watch TV in the rain. I started to understand why the contestants on Now What?!? were so miserable. The only thing to do was to curse Kevin Kessler and his stupid idea to move the couch outside, even though four hours earlier, it had been like the best idea ever.
    So I hunkered down in my poncho, sipped my cider, and stared at the gray sky.
    Eventually, I got up off the couch and headed inside to use the bathroom. As I stared at myself in the mirror—a wet mess—I couldn’t believe how much had changed. In five days, I’d gone from a pretty normal, somewhat invisible, typically overscheduled kid to a mini-celebrity, local hero, and determined but soggy crusader.
    Would it be worth it?
    I had no idea.
    *   *   *
    By the time my dad pulled into the driveway, it was pouring so hard he couldn’t even see me when he got out of the car.
    He was halfway up the front steps when he saw his only son sitting in the front yard, on a couch, in a rainstorm.
    He stopped and stood there, his suit soaking in the rain. Then he came over to me and said the first words he’d said to me in two days.
    â€œBetter bundle up.”
    And he went inside and had dinner.
    *   *   *
    An hour and a half later, it had gotten pitch black and was still raining. Then the porch light came on, the screen door opened, and my dad came outside with a flashlight. He walked up and stood over me.
    â€œDid you know that I was the first member of my family to go to college?”
    â€œYup,” I answered. He’d told me that a lot. Usually when he was trying to talk me into doing something that was good for college.
    â€œWhat I bet you didn’t know,” he said, “was that I didn’t want to go.”
    I squinted into the blinding flashlight but didn’t say anything.
    â€œMy dad owned a kitchen supply store,” Dad continued. “It was pretty tiny, but it got us by. I worked there every summer from the age of eleven. I actually loved it. I thought for sure he was going to hand the store down to me. And when I was in high school, and he got sick”—my dad stopped for a minute, the way he always did when he talked about his dad getting sick—“I told him I wanted to take over the store right after I graduated. I knew if I didn’t take over, he was going to have to sell it. Which was a big deal, because the store had been his dad’s store, and his dad’s dad’s store before that.”
    The flashlight suddenly went out, and my dad started fiddling with it. “Dang battery,” he muttered.
    â€œSo what happened with your dad?” I asked him in the dark.
    â€œWell, we got in a pretty big fight, is what happened. My dad told me there was no way I wasn’t going to college. I told him there was no way I was. We screamed at each other all night. We were both incredibly stubborn, I guess. Sounds familiar, right?”
    He stopped, like he was actually waiting for an answer, so I said, “Right.”
    â€œI didn’t realize, of course, just how sick he was. On the day after I graduated from high school, I went down to the store just like always. But it was boarded up. There was a big sign on the door that said SOLD.”
    Then my dad sat down on the couch next to me.
    â€œHe died a year later. My mom told me much later on that the sale of the store paid for the first two years of college, and his life insurance paid for the rest.”
    The flashlight suddenly came back on, and I was able to