Jordan found himself alone again at the little park near his house. The bike ride through the humid air left him worn out. He sat at the picnic table, leaning his bicycle against a tree. Jordan had fixed the flat tire the night before. He bought the repair kit with his own money. His mother had been at work. It helped to keep himself busy while she was away.

Thirteen-year-old Jordan glanced at his digital watch. He realized his mother Anna would be awake. She had worked the graveyard shift the night before at the hospital. Every Friday and Saturday night she was a housekeeper there. When Jordan was small, he often slept in a hospital bed. It was not because he was sick. He slept there because he couldn't stay home alone. Anna took him to work when she couldn't find a babysitter. Now Jordan was old enough to stay by himself.

During the weekdays, Anna worked at a bank. She wore skirts and nice blouses instead of scrubs. Jordan thought about how his mother counted money all day. He imagined it was hard because they had little of their own. Jordan pedaled the short ride home. The June wind hit his face as he coasted downhill. It had been a lonely first few weeks of summer. Jordan's best friend Lee had been away at camp. Jordan had wanted to go very badly, but it was too expensive.

The screen door banged shut behind Jordan. He wiped his feet on the little rug. The living room was hot and stuffy. Anna was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her. She was drinking black coffee.

"Hi, ma," Jordan said, and kissed her cheek. An old table fan blew warm air around the room. "I'm going to make a peanut butter sandwich. Would you like one?" Jordan asked his mom.

"No thanks, baby," Anna replied.

Jordan wished he would have just made her one instead of asking. He thought his mother was way too thin. He could feel her bones when she hugged him. Jordan made his sticky sandwich and ate it in the kitchen. He washed it down with a glass of milk.

He cleaned up and then went to his bedroom to read. He collected comics and books about superheroes. Sometimes he liked to draw the characters. Anna was proud of Jordan. When he was small, he struggled to read, but he studied hard. He practiced and learned to love books. She often pushed her pride away, knowing it could turn into guilt. She wanted to spend more time with her son.

Jordan could barely remember his father Wayne. Anna and Wayne had gotten a divorce when Jordan was very young. He had one clear memory of his dad. Wayne had taken his son for a walk in the woods. He told Jordan to be quiet and still. A small bird came close and a feather fell from its back. Wayne caught it in his big hand. It had seemed like a gift.

Sometimes Jordan got a birthday card in the mail from his dad. A few times over the years Wayne had called his son. Jordan used to ask his mother lots of questions. Where did his dad live? Why couldn't he visit him?

Jordan stopped asking about his dad the day his mom cried. Anna said she couldn't answer all his questions. She said Wayne wasn't able to keep a job. She said he had problems with drugs. She told Jordan not to blame himself for the divorce. He did anyway. Jordan thought he should have tried to be a better son. Jordan wished he could do something, but he felt helpless. All he could do was try to make things easier for his mom. He kept the house and yard clean. He made sure to stay out of trouble.

There were plenty of good times too. Sometimes Jordan and his mom went out for burgers or ordered pizza. Last summer they had gone to the beach for the day. Jordan watched little fish swim in the cool salty water through goggles.