The Planet's Always Bluer

Chapter 2- Earth

////Above: Picture of Tommi////

            I got home from the stadium around 11:30. The game ran late. I slumped all my stuff into the chair in the corner no one sits in, and plop down on the couch.

"How was work?" Dad asked.

"Same old, same old," I replied. Adam came out from the kitchen.

"Who won?" He asked, fingers crossed and wide eyed. How could I have the heart to tell him his favorite team, the Blackeyes, lost to the Hyenas 7-2?

"I'm sorry Adam, The Hyenas won,"

His face darkened, "Oh."

"They'll win next time, bud. I've got a gut feeling," Dad said, trying to cheer him up. Adam turned away to go to his room, and I could hear him under his breath.

"That's what you said last time."

It got quiet until he went up to bed. My mind was focused on one thing, money. I'm only fifteen and yet I'm the breadwinner of the house. Ever since Dad got his arm cut off by a psychopath, he can't do much. He has a prosthetic one, but he never wears it. He says it's too itchy, but I know he's ashamed to look like a robot.

He used to be the bus driver for the Blackeyes, which is how we all got into baseball, and how I got my job. He got laid off and is now a gas station attendant. He's looking for another job, though I don't know what kind he wants. I don't even think he knows.

I already have three jobs, and I'm not sure if we have enough money for the three of us. Besides concessions at the field, I also work as a gardener for the neighborhood, and I babysit. I babysit, A LOT.

Dad broke my thoughts, "I think it's time for Adam to get a job."

"But, Dad, you always said-"

"I know, but I can't stand looking for work all the time, and I feel bad there's no real man in the house."

"He's only nine Dad."

"I know, trust me, I know."

"What do you think he should do?"

"He could cook? He always makes dinner."

"No, not him."

"Well, I think at this point, it's more about what he doesn't hate, and what he's good at. We all know what he wants is...."

He didn't have to say it. We both know. He wants to be a ball player. I'm actually glad he didn't say it. Improbable. Unlikely. Never going to happen. Just thinking about the words stung.

"Maybe he could tutor little kids! He's gotten pretty good," I suggested. But by the look on Dad's face, I could tell, that wasn't going to happen.

I tried again, "Maybe Adam could work in technology? Computers are a big thing. If he could code, he could make a lot of money for himself. We could use the help too..."

"I know. Maybe that would work? I mean, he's always had a knack with machines, maybe computers would be right for him. Of course it's more reliable than baseball."

"That's my thinking. Should we talk to him in the morning?"

"You might want to do it. It was your idea."