Wisdom Tree by Mary Manners Read Free Book Online

the fact that you came to a new school so late in the year. But now you have a fresh start, a clean slate, and you’ve had a chance to heal—”
    “At least on the outside, right?”
    “Guilt won’t work anymore, Corey.” Jake struggled to keep his tone firm, though he wanted to draw Corey into his arms and soothe away the hurt. That would do neither of them any good now. “You can’t make excuses forever. We have to move on. You have to move on. So, either show improvement in your schoolwork beginning right now—today—or you’re off the football team. It’s your choice. No more chances. End of discussion. Is that totally clear?”
    Corey dropped the bag of cookies and crossed his arms. “I heard you when you said it the first time, in your office this morning, with Miss O’Malley.”
    “Good.” Jake tapped his pencil against the cover of his planner. “It was nice of her to come out to the church to help you.”
    “You mean filet me…and then grill me.”
    “Don’t be so melodramatic.” Jake shook his head. “She seems nice…and caring.”
    Corey leaned back in the chair, balancing on only two legs. “Don’t get any ideas.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I know that look. You had it with Rachelle before I came along to mess things up for you.”
    “You didn’t mess up anything, Corey. What happened with Rachelle wasn’t your fault.”
    “She didn’t like me.”
    “It wasn’t you, Corey. It was…” Jake sighed. How could he explain? “Maybe you should get a head start on your journal for tomorrow.”
    Corey let the chair slip forward again. The front legs clattered to the tile. “You’re no fun anymore, Jake. All you do is boss me around.”
    Jake’s heart tore at the comment, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. “I’m not bossing you. I’m just stating the facts.”
    “It wasn’t like this…with Mom and Dad.” Corey’s voice caught, and Jake wondered if he might break down and cry again. “It was easy.”
    “It will get easier again, Corey. Trust me.”
    “You said God doesn’t make mistakes.” Corey’s lower lip trembled, and suddenly he looked a whole lot younger than twelve. He rubbed his eyes, fought back a sniffle and turned his face away from Jake. “But He took Mom and Dad, and that has to be a mistake, doesn’t it?”
    “Sometimes we don’t understand right away why things happen.” Hadn’t Jake asked himself the same question a hundred times over? The answer was always the same. “Sometimes we never understand. But that doesn’t mean those things are mistakes.”
    “So you think it was right for Mom and Dad to…to die?”
    “I didn’t say that. I just said—”
    “I don’t want to talk about it.” Corey pushed back from the table. “I’m going to bed.”
    “Corey, wait.” Jake reached for him. “We should talk this out.”
    “I’m tired, Jake. And I’m not hungry anymore.” Corey wiggled from Jake’s grasp and looked at him with damp, wounded eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but clamped it shut before uttering a word. Instead, he grabbed the bag of cookies and the mac-and-cheese and tossed them back into the pantry. “See you in the morning.”
    “Goodnight.” Filled with a sense of helplessness, Jake watched him lope through the doorway and into the hall.
    “Whatever.” Corey’s voice drifted back.
    Jake pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead and wished he could banish the offensive word from the English language, forever. A door slammed, and the springs on Corey’s bed squeaked in protest beneath his weight. Then oppressive silence blanketed the house.
    How will I ever reach him? I miss my brother…the happy-go-lucky kid he used to be. Jake stood and stretched his legs. He refilled his glass with sweet tea and wandered out to the back porch to collapse into a padded rattan chair. The night was unseasonably warm—an Indian summer—but the musky scent of fall clung to the air. The sky was a swatch of black velvet