Being with his friends felt good, but it was fleeting. The reality of his life was isolation. Often his home was empty, as it was this morning, as it had been for the last week. It didn’t feel right bringing that down on others. It wasn’t his mom’s fault, after all, that she needed to be away. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

That’s how it was. Jordan stared out the window, waiting for the final stop that would bring him home. Granbury was boring. Suffocating. Jordan’s mind drifted back to his earlier thoughts. Being a cowboy, riding out on the open plains. A hero, flying through the sky. A knight.

No, he amended. He wouldn’t be a knight. He’d be a king. A warrior king, leading from the front, wearing a mighty crown. The thought made him smile. Shrouded with a white cape, clad in gleaming silver armor and a golden crown, he would be a hero of his own making. He would make his own Light Brigade, ones befitting the name. Shining heroes to defend humanity.

He knew he was getting too old for such fantasies. That didn’t loosen his grip any. It made him want to grab the banner and hold it higher. Everything in his life was a fight up to now, why would this be any different? Maybe one day he would feel different, but now was not the time. His home came, the blanch walls yellowing with age and exposure. It wasn’t anything impressive, a modest place. From time to time, he considered what the bills would be like, but his mom never said anything about them. The brief reprieve of his imagination faded.

The familiar weight of loneliness settled in. He followed the cracked walkway, considering what he needed to do. Chores should be wrapped up, then he could call TJ and see what their work was supposed to be. If he got lucky, he could find his bag in the morning and half ass it well enough. He opened the door.

“JoJo,” came the exhausted voice from within. “You forgot the dishes.”

He froze briefly, shocked. His mom was home. Closing his eyes, he pushed through, shutting the door behind him.

“Welcome back, mama,” he greeted.

She was clad in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, stretched out on the couch. Her skin was a shade or two darker than his own, he believed she mentioned that her grandmother was black, and her brown hair was unbound and hanging freely past her shoulders. Her beautiful brown eyes were marred, clearly bloodshot from stress. She looked him over.

“You’re missing your pack.”

“I forgot it,” he said.

She muttered something in Spanish. He knew enough from her to get by in conversation. Another problem, or something to that effect. She straightened up and motioned to him. He came closer and she wrapped her arms around him. As her grip tightened, he started to hug her back.

“You forget much, Mijo,” she said.

Her voice was never soft, but it was rarely sharp. Usually it sounded exhausted, worn, distant. This was even worse. She sounded sad. He frowned into her hair.

“Was work that bad?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, letting go of him. Standing, she patted him on the back. “That is a parent’s privilege. Get the dishes done.”

She was sitting in the dark, sleeping on the couch from what he could tell. She smelled fresh, like she recently got out of the shower. Moving sluggishly, she picked up the controller, turning on the TV. Jordan flipped on a lamp before heading into the kitchen. He grimaced. The sink was indeed full, more than he remembered. Moving the larger pans out of the way, he set the stopper and got the water ready. Already he wanted to be doing anything but this.

Noises from the living room filtered in. News anchors chattering about nothing of consequence. It quickly went silent. His mom didn’t seem to care much for TV. Jordan would agree. The silence continued as he slowly made a dent in the work he left. Something wasn’t right. Unease settled over him until the cleaning was nearly done. Then her voice drifted into the kitchen, over the sounds of scrubbing and splashing water.

“How would you feel about taking a trip soon?”

Jordan stopped, looking back.

“Mama?” He said.

“Say I got time off work in the next few weeks, where would you like to go?” She sounded more alert.

“Give me a second,” he said.

Jordan dried his hands off. He walked into the living room. The light was left on, though with the television dark it didn’t help much. She moved from the couch to one of the recliners, though her feet were still on the ground.

“I was thinking about going off somewhere. Somewhere pretty. What would you want, JoJo?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I…the beach? Somewhere by the ocean, I guess. You said that was nice.”

“Don’t worry about what I’d like. That, too, is a parent’s privilege.” She grinned at him.

“What’s the privilege of a son?”

“Not to break their mother’s heart.”

Her response was prompt, earnest. Jordan laughed, sitting down on the couch.

“No promises,” he said.

“You’ll do your best, Mijo,” she leaned back. “Of that I’m certain.”

The two sat like that for a while, time passing without a word shared. Finally, she looked back at him.

“Have you ever been on a motorcycle?”

“I don’t think so. You used to ride right?”

“Kiddo, that was the only way to live. Wind through your hair, leather gloves gripping the handles, Harley roaring forward. Bikers are a bunch of gossips though. For modern day outlaws, they don’t know the first thing about being cool.”

Jordan laughed. “Oh yeah, you know what’s ‘cool’?”

She glanced at him. “You think I don’t?”

He grinned. “Might be a bit outdated.”

“Oh, now you’re saying I’m getting old.”

“Try me. What’s ‘cool’?”

Maria laughed. It was a low, husky noise. “Cool, kiddo, is doing what’s right. It’s taking the slings and arrows of others without complaint. Being a pillar for those who need it and knowing what to say and when. You don’t need to run your mouth. Just dig your heels in and do what you believe. Maybe it is old fashioned. I don’t know what kids think anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.”

He was quiet for a moment. Regarding her serene face, her words rung true to him. “No, that sounds right to me.” He looked over at her. “Why did you stop riding?”

Maria looked over at him, sitting up a bit straighter. “That’s how Shiro died.”

Shiro Adachi. His father. The way he died wasn’t a secret or anything, but his mom talking about him at all was unusual. Jordan was never sure how to feel about it. About him, or their relationship.

“Couldn’t have you losing both of us,” she continued. “So, I retired my Harley to the garage. I’ve caught you out there a few times.”

He flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment she spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about riding again. Teaching you. You’re the right age to learn.”

“I’d like that.”

“Being a biker isn’t easy. It’s dangerous and often lonely. You can go anywhere there’s road and gas, but you can’t bring much with you. But that feeling, the freedom, you can’t get that anywhere else.”

He realized she was watching him. Looking up at her, her gaze only intensified.

“I love you.”

The way she said it, the way the words hung in the air after as she left the room, felt significant. He couldn’t have known why.

“Mama?” He would have followed her, if not for a knock at the door.

Opening it revealed, of all people, Steph, a wide smile plastered across her face. She immediately pushed her way in, shouting a greeting in a rush as she whirled past. Jordan, bewildered, shut the door behind her before taking a step back.

Steph looked across the living room, green eyes bright as always.

“This place is gloomy!”

Jordan winced; her voice louder than he was used to.

“What are you…?”

She twirled towards him. With a flourish, she presented his backpack.

“You forgot something,” she stuck her tongue out. “Silly boy.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Thank you?”

“You’re right thank you! I went out of my way to return this.” She shook the bag.

Blinking, Jordan grabbed one of the straps, realizing she wanted him to take it. He pulled but found it had no give. She grinned at him.

“What are you doing?”

“A good boy, all alone at home, forgot his little school bag. So, I snatched it up and whisked it straight home for him. And that good little boy went and let me in. Now don’t you think that’s worth a reward, Jo’?”

Her eyes were stunning, even in this dim light. He yanked on the bag but her grip was iron tight.

“What do you want?”

She flashed teeth.

“To wait til he’s a bit older, I’d hope.”

Maria’s low voice smothered the room. Steph’s grip on the bag snapped, as she stumbled back a few steps. Looking owlishly at the older woman, Steph giggled, blushing.

“I’m, ah,” she struggled to regain her composure. “You must be Mrs. Arnaz!”

“Ms., actually.” Maria quirked an eyebrow at the blonde, looking her up and down. “Someone I should know about, Jordan?”

Jordan shook his head. “Someone I know from school.”

“Seems a bit more than that.”

Steph laughed. “He’ll come around.”

Maria crossed her arms. “If he chooses to.”

Her laughter died off. “Ah, yeah. Of course.” Steph looked from Jordan to Maria. “I thought he was alone, so I wanted to keep him company.”

Maria snorted. “That much is obvious.”

“Ma’am, I just wanted you to know, I think Jordan is very handsome,” she approached Maria. “And he’s such a good guy.”

“Mmhmm.”

Jordan wasn’t sure what he should be doing now. This was already awkward enough; he didn’t want to say anything. At least he wasn’t digging his own hole now.

“And today, Devon Chambers clocked him, and he hit back just as hard!”

Jordan closed his eyes, sighing.

Maria looked over to Jordan. “Chambers, that’s that eighth grader you gave a black eye a few months ago, right?”

“He’s a nineth grader now,” Steph offered.

Jordan nodded.

“Should’ve given him two,” she said.

Despite himself he smiled.

“I’m going to guess, it got broken up and that’s why he forgot his backpack. Then you came by to tease him- and I’m going to assume that’s as far as it would have gone,” Maria’s voice turned stern.

“Absolutely!” Steph quickly moved back towards the door. “I’m going to head out now, have a good night Jordan! Ms. Arnaz!”

Like a hurricane she came. Like a hurricane she left. Jordan watched her run across the street, down the sidewalk and into the distance. Confused didn’t begin to cover it.

Maria shook her head. “You take a little too much after Shiro, I swear.”

“Mama, I,” he started to say. She stopped him.

“Don’t worry. I was watching. She’s…energetic.”

“I feel like she wants to eat me.”

“She may.”

Maria went to leave.

“Mama,” she turned at his voice. “About Chambers…”

“Jordan Arnaz, I’ve told you before. I’m not going to judge you for standing up for yourself. Some people can run away. Not us. You may not win, but you will still fight. You’re my son, after all. So long as you are happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

Taking him in close, the two hugged. Then she went back to her room. As she left, she tossed over her shoulder, “I’d prefer Gia.”

“Mama!”

Jordan sat at the couch, bringing his bag up. Whatever Steph’s deal was, whatever Chambers’ problem would be, it didn’t matter. He’d face it all the same. For a child, soon to be thirteen, such matters could seem so complicated. His thoughts wandered as books and papers spread across the table. They slid off the provocations of Steph, and Chambers was a concern only in the moment.

Something was changing. Even he could feel it.

A storm brewed.