Chapter 13: Balancing Acts

Josh woke up Thursday morning, the first rays of sunlight streaming through his window. The quiet confidence he’d felt after his talk with Mr. Johnson lingered, giving him a renewed sense of purpose as he started his day. As he dressed and made his way to the kitchen, he could hear the low hum of his brothers’ conversation as they finished up breakfast.

“Morning,” Josh greeted, grabbing a glass from the cabinet as Joel and William looked up from their bowls.

“Morning, Josh,” Joel replied, his usual tired expression lightening slightly. William gave him a quick nod between bites of cereal.

Josh poured himself a glass of water, glancing over at the math assignments spread across the table. “Hey, if you guys want me to take a look at your math homework before you go, just in case there’s any small mistakes, I’m happy to check,” he offered casually, trying to keep his tone light.

Joel looked at him, considering the offer, then shrugged and slid his notebook across the table. “Sure. I think I might’ve messed up on the last problem. Can’t hurt to have a second pair of eyes.”

Josh took the notebook, scanning through Joel’s work. His brother had done well for the most part, but Josh spotted a small miscalculation in the final problem. He pointed to it, showing Joel where he’d accidentally added instead of subtracted.

“See here? If you switch that, everything else checks out,” Josh explained, walking him through the correction.

Joel nodded slowly, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face. “Thanks, Josh. Don’t know how I missed that.”

“Easy mistake,” Josh said, sliding the notebook back to him. As he looked over at William.

William shook his head, a confident grin on his face as he packed up his bag. “I’m good this time. Triple-checked everything, so no mistakes for me.”

Josh chuckled, grabbing a couple of slices of bread and putting them in the toaster. “Alright, just thought I’d offer. No harm in double-checking, though,” he teased lightly, making William roll his eyes.

As Joel and William finished up and headed for the door, Josh waved them off. “Have a good day, guys.”

“You too, Josh,” William replied, heading out with Joel.

Josh lingered in the kitchen, waiting for the toast to pop up. He spread a quick layer of jam on the slices, taking them with him as he headed out the door, eating on the way to school.

Josh walked the familiar route to school, chewing on his toast as the cool morning air brushed against his face. The streets were quiet except for the occasional chirp of birds, heralding the start of spring. Patches of grass glistened with dew, and the bare trees along the sidewalk held the faintest hints of budding leaves. March carried that in-between feeling—not quite winter, not quite spring—a fitting metaphor, Josh thought, for his own life right now.

The closer he got to school, the more the quiet gave way to the chatter of kids walking in groups or rushing toward the entrance. A few familiar faces nodded his way, and he returned the gesture. The schoolyard was alive with activity: kids tossing a ball back and forth, friends huddling together to share gossip, and others comparing answers to homework they’d rushed to finish before class.

Inside the building, the familiar buzz of activity filled the halls—lockers slamming shut, the low hum of hurried conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter from a group of friends. Josh slipped into his homeroom, setting his backpack on the floor and organizing his books. As the teacher began roll call, he glanced around, noticing how the other kids seemed so carefree. For them, life was simple—school, friends, and home. For Josh, it was layers upon layers of plans, regrets, and second chances.

The first few periods passed uneventfully. During reading time, Josh followed along in his book, keeping his participation measured but attentive. He felt Mrs. Thompson’s eyes on him more than once, a subtle reminder that she hadn’t forgotten their conversation earlier in the week. But she didn’t say anything, and Josh was careful not to give her a reason to probe further.

At lunch, Josh grabbed a tray of food and found a table where a few classmates were sitting. He wasn’t close to them, but their casual chatter filled the space without putting pressure on him to contribute much. Conversations swirled around him—plans for the weekend, complaints about teachers, and debates over which Pokémon was the best. He listened quietly, occasionally offering a nod or a small laugh to blend in.

The afternoon brought math and history. In math, Josh breezed through the lesson on fractions, carefully avoiding showing off too much. He answered a few questions when called on but kept his answers straightforward and to the point. In history, the teacher’s enthusiastic recounting of the Revolutionary War filled the room, with students groaning as they took notes. Josh listened intently, finding comfort in the stories of how small actions could lead to big changes.

As the final bell rang, Josh packed his things and walked out into the March afternoon, the faint warmth of the sun hinting at spring’s approach. He felt a sense of calm as he walked home, the sound of distant lawnmowers and chirping birds punctuating the stillness. His thoughts drifted to Mr. Johnson, imagining the older man at the lottery office, cashing in the ticket. By now, it would all be real, and tonight’s conversation would set the stage for what came next.

Josh thought not just about the plan with Mr. Johnson but about his brothers and their futures. I’m building something here, he thought, gripping the strap of his backpack tighter. One step at a time.

By the time he reached his front door, he was ready to tackle whatever the evening might bring.

Josh stepped into the house, the familiar quiet greeting him as he set his backpack down by the door. A quick survey of the room revealed the telltale signs of chores left undone. The sink was overflowing with dishes from last night—plates with dried streaks of sauce, cups stacked precariously, and utensils scattered haphazardly. Near the back door, the trash can stood full to the brim, the bag stretched to its limit.

Josh sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he mentally ticked off what needed to be done. Alright, the dishes first, he thought, though the urge to delegate the task to Joel crossed his mind. But he quickly dismissed it; if he wanted to cook dinner tonight, he’d need a clean sink to work in. William can take care of the trash when he gets home, he decided, already formulating the plan.

Opening the fridge, Josh scanned the shelves for anything they could use for dinner. It was slim pickings—half a carton of milk, a few slices of cheese, and some leftover chili from earlier in the week. He closed the fridge with a faint frown and checked the pantry. A box of cereal, instant oatmeal, and a lonely can of soup greeted him.

Finally, he moved to the freezer, opening it with cautious optimism. His eyes landed on a store-bought lasagna near the front, neatly wrapped in its branded box. He picked it up, inspecting the label. Perfect, he thought. It wasn’t fancy, but it was filling, and it would save him from cobbling together something from scraps.

He paused for a moment, considering whether his mom had been saving it for the weekend. I don’t think she’ll mind, he reasoned. “It’s Thursday, not a special occasion,” he muttered under his breath. “Besides, it’ll save us all from another ramen or canned soup dinner.”

He placed the lasagna on the counter and read the instructions. With a quick check of the clock, he realized he had enough time to clean the kitchen before putting the lasagna in the oven.

Josh rolled up his sleeves and got to work on the dishes, running hot water into the sink until it was steaming. The sound of scrubbing filled the quiet house as he methodically cleaned each plate, cup, and utensil, placing them neatly in the drying rack. As he worked, his thoughts wandered back to Mr. Johnson and the lottery ticket. By now, he should’ve cashed it, Josh thought, the idea of having even a small financial cushion giving him a glimmer of relief. Tonight’s conversation with Mr. Johnson would be critical for figuring out their next steps.

The dishes took longer than he expected, but when the last glass was rinsed and set aside, he stepped back and surveyed the clean sink with satisfaction. With that done, he grabbed the lasagna, preheated the oven, and slid the frozen meal inside. He set a timer, taking a moment to wash his hands before turning his attention back to the rest of the kitchen.

The overflowing trash can caught his eye, and he grabbed a fresh bag from under the sink. He placed it on the counter and made a mental note to remind William about the chore when he got home.

As the smell of the lasagna began to fill the kitchen, Josh took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the moment ground him. Dinner wasn’t anything special, but it would be enough, and for now, that was all that mattered. One step at a time, he thought. Tonight’s another piece of the puzzle.

As the lasagna baked in the oven, filling the kitchen with the rich aroma of cheese and tomato sauce, Josh heard the front door open and the familiar sound of his brothers’ voices floating down the hall. Their footsteps grew louder as they approached the kitchen, backpacks slung over their shoulders and the energy of their day still lingering.

“Hey, guys,” Josh greeted, glancing up from the counter where he was arranging plates and silverware. “Hope you had a good day. But before you get too comfortable, I need some help around here.”

William groaned dramatically, dropping his backpack onto a chair. “Oh, come on, Josh. We just got home!”

Josh smirked, crossing his arms. “And yet the trash is still full. Funny how that works. William, you’re on trash duty—right now, please.” He nodded toward the bulging trash bag by the back door.

William rolled his eyes but grabbed the bag with a resigned sigh. “Fine, but you owe me,” he muttered as he headed outside. “Like, at least two extra pieces of lasagna or something!”

“Deal,” Josh replied with a laugh, watching him go.

Turning to Joel, Josh caught him mid-step, trying to quietly slip past the kitchen. “Oh, no, Joel. Not so fast,” Josh said, grinning. “I need you to gather everyone’s laundry and get a load started. That includes yours.”

Joel groaned, shooting Josh an annoyed look. “Why do I always get stuck with the laundry?”

“Because you’re older,” Josh shot back, still grinning. “And you’re good at it. Now get to it.”

Joel muttered something under his breath as he dropped his backpack onto the table and stomped off toward the bedrooms. “You’re way too bossy for the youngest brother,” he grumbled.

“You’ll thank me later when you have clean socks,” Josh called after him, shaking his head.

By the time his brothers finished their chores, the oven timer beeped, signaling that the lasagna was ready. Josh pulled it out, the cheese bubbling and golden, and carefully plated up generous portions for everyone. He set the plates on the table, adding cups of water.

“Dinner’s ready,” he called, sitting down at his spot. Joel and William shuffled in, taking their seats and digging in without hesitation.

“Alright, I’ll give you this,” William said between bites. “This is way better than sandwiches.”

“Glad you approve,” Josh replied, smirking. “Didn’t think I’d hear you complaining about lasagna.”

As they ate, the conversation drifted to music—a frequent topic in the house. William kicked it off, excitedly talking about what he’d heard at the park that afternoon.

“Candlebox is so good,” William said, gesturing with his fork. “‘Far Behind’—man, that song is just awesome.”

Josh nodded. “I’ll give you that, but they’re no Nirvana. ‘Come As You Are’ is legendary.”

Joel snorted. “Grunge is fine and all, but give me Bone Thugs-N-Harmony any day. They’ve got real flow, not just a bunch of dudes whining over guitars.”

“Bone Thugs are alright,” William replied, narrowing his eyes, “but if you’re talking rap, Tupac is where it’s at. Dude’s basically a poet.”

Josh chuckled, shaking his head. “You two and your rap. I’ll stick with Nine Inch Nails. Trent Reznor’s a genius. ‘Closer’ is—well, you wouldn’t get it.”

Joel smirked, rolling his eyes. “Oh, we get it, alright. You like music that sounds like machines breaking down. We’ll stick to real lyrics.”

Before Josh could fire back, William jumped in again. “Okay, fine, but you can’t leave out Foo Fighters. ‘This Is A Call’ is amazing.”

Josh nodded instinctively, his mind slipping. “Yeah, but ‘Best of You’ is probably their best track.”

The table went quiet for a beat. William furrowed his brow, looking up from his plate. “Wait, what? What’s ‘Best of You’? I don’t think I’ve heard that one.”

Josh froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Crap. That song doesn’t come out for almost a decade. He scrambled for a response, forcing a casual laugh. “Oh, uh ... must’ve been thinking of another band. My bad.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, giving Josh a skeptical look. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Josh replied quickly, waving it off. “Forget I said anything.”

The moment passed, and the conversation shifted as Joel started talking about a mixtape his friend was making, filled with Tupac and Biggie tracks. Josh relaxed, grateful his slip-up hadn’t drawn too much attention.

As the plates emptied, the room settled into a warm, contented quiet. Joel leaned back in his chair, still fiddling with his fork, while William sopped up the last of the sauce with a piece of bread.

“Thanks for dinner, Josh,” William said sincerely, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Joel added, his voice softer than usual. “This was good.”

Josh smiled, feeling a small surge of pride. “No problem. It’s nice to have a good meal together.”

The three of them cleared the table, their earlier banter lingering in the air. As they finished, Josh made a mental note to tread more carefully when referencing the future. But even with the occasional slip, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Dinner wasn’t just about the food—it was about connection, and tonight, they’d taken another step toward becoming a family again.

After dinner, Josh stepped into the bathroom to clean up, letting the warm water from the shower rinse off the day’s dust and tension. When he came back out, he found Joel and William seated at the kitchen table, their notebooks and textbooks spread out. Joel’s face was scrunched in frustration, pencil tapping the table as he stared at a math problem. William, in contrast, hummed softly to himself, scribbling answers into his science worksheet.

Josh leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Hey,” he said casually, getting their attention. “If you need any help with your homework, let me know in the morning. I’ve got to head over to Mr. Johnson’s for a bit.”

William paused mid-sentence, looking up. “You’ve been going over there a lot lately,” he said, tilting his head. “What’s the deal?”

Joel smirked without looking up. “Yeah, seriously, Josh. Did you get adopted by a grandpa or something?”

Josh let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he moved to sit down on the edge of a chair next to them. “Not exactly,” he said, his tone turning more serious. “Look, Mr. Johnson’s a World War II veteran. He’s a widow, and he doesn’t have any family. He’s been on his own since his wife passed away.”

Joel finally glanced up from his notebook, raising an eyebrow. “And that’s why you’re spending all your free time with him? Doesn’t he have, like, friends his age or something?”