“You know, I kind of miss the old guy,” Tom said at last, staring up at the sky. “It won’t be so bad.” He glanced over at Jett. Jett’s eyes were vacant, staring out over the river where the bridge used to be. Tom nudged him. Jett jumped a little and turned. “What?”

Tom sighed. Jett had zoned out on him again. He never used to do that. Usually Tom was the one who did the zoning out… or at least, he used to be. Before Jett got that letter. “I said, I kind of miss your dad. It won’t be so bad.”

“Ha. Yeah. For you. You didn’t have to watch your mom rip up his pictures.”

“I mean it, Jett. It’s kind of cool that he’s showing up again. It means he cares enough to want to see you.”

“Yeah, sure. He cares enough to go running off to Mexico to go marry some other lady and just leave me and mom. I’m sure he cares.” Jett stared off across the river again. “He’ll probably freak out when he meets Urban. I mean, I freaked out when I met Urban. It’ll probably scare him back across the border.”

“Everybody freaks out when they meet Urban,” Tom said. He couldn’t tell what Jett was thinking about when he stared at the river. Was he thinking about his dad? Was he thinking about Urban, his six-foot-five stepdad? The bridge that was gone on account of them? That tree they carved their names in during sixth grade? “Besides, that was eight years ago. He probably thought about you a lot.”

“He didn’t write and he didn’t call. Picking up a telephone isn’t that hard. If he really wasn’t brave enough to face us over the phone, he could have left a message on the machine.” Jett shoved his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t heard his voice in eight years. He just up and left. He didn’t even say why!” Now Jett looked upset. “It’s just like in Treasure Planet! Do you know how much it sucked to watch that movie? It was like, ‘Oh, no, that’s the story of my life all over again!’”

“But it’s called Treasure Planet because he found treasure. He didn’t get to keep any of the gold or anything, but he found something even better. Maybe you can too.”

Jett sighed, feigning distress. “Sometimes I worry about you, Tom. You look too deep into stuff.”

“It’s called being philosophical, man.”

“Being chick-flick.”

“Being sentimental.”

“Being super lame.”

“Being there.” Tom looked at Jett. Jett looked back.

“Well,” he said, “at least someone is.”