You would think having two brothers would help Shermie not feel so lonely anymore. Wrong. Ma was so busy with the babies and Pa was busy with work and Stanley and Stanford were too little to do anything fun that Shermie spent a lot of time alone. Luckily he still had his own room, so he spent a lot of time reading comic books and playing with his special trains that Uncle Jack got him for his birthday.
Shermie tried to help with the babies, but Pa said he just got in the way and there wasn't a lot he could do to help. When they were old enough to eat baby food Shermie liked to help feed them, but Pa would then scold him and tell him he wasn't eating enough, so usually Ma fed them and Shermie just watched. Shermie was used to being by himself, Ma and Pa both working hard and not really having time to play or watch TV with him or anything like that, but with more people that he could play with, but couldn't, that made being lonely only worse.
Sometimes Shermie wished he had a twin. Stanley and Stanford were always together. They always had someone to play baby-games with, someone to make sure they were never lonely. Shermie didn't have that. He didn't have a best friend. He'd give anything for one.
One night, Shermie woke up and heard crying. He groaned; if one cried, the other usually did soon. Shermie was tired and grumpy and wasn't in the mood to hear two babies cry or to wait for Ma to fix it, so he hurried out of bed, marched across the hall, and into the nursery. The two cribs stood side-by-side, but the babies were both in one crib; sometimes if they wouldn't go to sleep Ma put them together and they fell asleep quicker that way. Both babies were awake, but only one was crying. Shermie quickly counted the fingers of the baby that was crying. Five fingers. Stanley.
Shermie put a finger to his lips and shushed. Stanley stopped wailing so loudly and looked up at his big brother with a sniffle. "Good." Shermie huffed. "Now go to sleep."
Stanley rolled on his stomach and scooted to the edge of the crib; he and Stanford weren't really old enough to crawl, but they could scootch a little bit. Stanley was smiling at Shermie, who was not amused. Still, it made getting up in the middle of the night less bad. Shermie looked over at Stanford and found him happily looking at Shermie and lying on his back.
"Okay, now go to sleep." Shermie repeated. Of course, the babies didn't obey. Stanley reached a chubby hand for the boy. On reflex, Shermie gave Stanley a finger and the baby curled his fist around it tightly. "Uncle Jack's right." The boy snorted. "You're really tough."
Stanley then suddenly pulled Shermie's finger into his mouth. Shermie groaned in disgust and pulled his hand free, wiping the drool on his green pajamas. "Gross!" Stanley sat up, hands on the bars of the crib, and laughed. His laugh sounded like bells and was really nice to listen to, but it was bedtime, so Shermie again put a finger to his lips and shushed Stanley. "Quit it, you're gonna get me in trouble."
Stanford also held the bars of the crib, sitting with a smile, ready to play or something. Shermie shook his head. "Go to sleep, both of you." And he began to walk away.
Stanley made a fussy noise and Shermie turned to look at them. He looked grumpy and Stanford looked upset, his bottom lip sticking out and quivering. Shermie rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Fine. But I'm sleepy, so c'mon."
Shermie lowered the crib and the twins made toothless smiles at that; a lowered crib means freedom. Shermie had learned that Stanford was a little more patient than Stanley, so he picked Stanley up first, holding him tight tight tight around the back and holding him up by his shoulder from the bottom. He needed to be quick so he wouldn't get in trouble, but quiet, too, so Shermie carried Stanley to his room and put him down on the bed. Stanley wiggled and grinned, happy to be in a new place, but Shermie had to hurry. He walked quietly to the nursery, picked up Stanford, who was a little fussy but happy to finally get carried, and carried the second brother into the bedroom. Shermie put Stanford down on the bed with Stanley and quietly closed the door.
"There, better?" Shermie asked the babies. The four-year-old wasn't so sure if this was a good idea, but it got them to be quiet and so maybe now they could go back to sleep. Shermie joined his brothers in the big-boy bed and laid down. "Now go to sleep."
Stanford yawned, but he didn't look ready to go to sleep. He wasn't reaching for toys or anything, just sitting there and watching his brothers. Stanley tugged and pulled on Shermie's blanket, annoying the boy, but when Shermie sat up to tell him off the baby finally got under the blanket and laid down next to him. Shermie smiled, pleased, and moved Stanford so he laid on his other side.
Stanford just looked at Shermie, not sleepy at all, but Stanley was soon snoring again and drooling on Shermie's pillow. Shermie groaned in annoyance and carefully freed it from Stanley's head and flipped it over. Stanley, thankfully, was still asleep, but Stanford looked in no hurry to go to sleep. He just kept staring at Shermie; it was kinda creepy and weird.
Shermie rolled his eyes and made Stanford lay on his belly so he could rub his back, like what Ma does to get them to sleep. "C'mon, go to sleep." Shermie begged; he was tired and cranky and just wanted the twins to sleep already!
Stanford's eyelids began to droop. Shermie smiled snugly, successful, and wrapped his arm around his little brother as he rubbed his back until they both fell asleep.
Ma, thank Moses, didn't wake up to the sound of crying babies. She woke up on her own around the usual time and managed to start the coffee pot. As it brewed life-saving caffeine, she decided to check on the twins to make sure they were okay. She was beyond scared to find both cribs empty.
"Stanford?! Stanley?!" Ma looked around wildly. They were only a few months old, they haven't even started to crawl yet! They couldn't have gotten away on their own! Ma then tried to use logic and she checked the next room: Shermie's room. She opened the door and sighed with relief to find her sons sleeping together. Stanley was lying on Shermie's chest haphazardly and Stanford was curled up under his arm and against his chest. They all looked so cozy and at peace. Ma smiled, beyond happy to see her sons getting along, and she left them alone to sleep.
Uncle Jack walked in and grinned with pride at the sight of Shermie; he had a brand new backpack and clothes (from the thrift store), and was nearly ready for school; he just had to finish his breakfast and was all ready to go. "Look at choo, sport! Lookin' good! You'll be fendin' off girls with a stick."
Shermie gagged at the idea of girls and swallowed some milk.
"Thanks again, Jack." Ma said as she gave Stanley his second bowl of cereal; he was a little bottomless pit.
Uncle Jack waved away his sister's thanks. "Don't sweat it, sis. That's what family's for. M'happy to take my little buddy to school! Maybe if he's been good we'll get ice cream after."
"Ice cream!?" Shermie gasped and hurriedly finished his toast; the sooner the day started, the sooner it ended and the sooner he could have ice cream.
Uncle Jack laughed and sat with the five at the table; he had only asked for one thing in exchange for taking Shermie to school, and that was food. Ma gave him a plate full of hot scrambled eggs and toast and had a cup of orange juice waiting for him. Uncle Jack thanked his sister and ruffled Stanford's fluffy hair and gave Stanley a soft noogie before digging in. "Mm. So Shermie, choo nervous?"
"Nope." Shermie said proudly. "M'ready for school!"
"Should be. Great place. You'll learn lots!"
"Ma already taught me how to read." Shermie shared.
Uncle Jack looked at Ma. "Choo did?"
Ma nodded with a smile. "We read together every night, don't we? He's very good for his age." even if she was really busy with the twins, she decided Shermie needed to be reminded that she still loved him and cared about him, so she read a book with him every single night, no matter what.
"Well hey, it's impressive choo can read at all, sport." Uncle Jack said and lightly punched his shoulder. "M'proud of choo."
Shermie could feel his face turned really hot.
Later Uncle Jack walked with Shermie on his shoulders to the school. It wasn't too far, and Pa said that Shermie would have to learn how to walk to and from school by himself, but Uncle Jack had no problem walking his nephew to school every day if that's what the kid wanted. Great part about his job was the flexible hours. Sure, the subway from Glass shard to New York City was almost an hour, but it gave Uncle Jack time to smoke in peace and meditate on his cases. Anyways, totally worth it to help to help his sister and spend time with Shermie.
They arrived at the school and Uncle Jack put Shermie down. He got on one knee in front of him and looked him over. "Alright, sport, lemme see choo… got your books n' lunch n' stuff, right? Right. Okay then, before choo go, I gotcha something." Uncle Jack pulled out something small and wrapped in newspaper from his trenchcoat and held it out to the six-year-old.
He took it with shaking hands, not expecting a present, and he unwrapped the newspaper and saw he was holding a black notebook, a serious looking one, like the kind Uncle Jack used. Shermie grinned and opened the book. All the pages were blank, except for the first one. It read "לכתוב," which Shermie had no idea what it said. "Wh-What's that say?" He asked.
"It's Hebrew." Uncle Jack said and then repeated the word. Shermie nodded; they used Hebrew a lot at synagogue and during Hanukkah. Ma said they were Jewish. "It means 'write'." Uncle Jack explained. "Remember, we're taught that every livin' thing - every person, every bird, even every leaf - is only alive cuz someone breathed in a secret word for life. Words are very powerful, Sherman, n' all those pages are for choo to fill with your own words, words you're gonna learn here." And he gestured to the big school.
Suddenly going to school seemed really important. He was a little nervous, but still excited. He hopped up into Uncle Jack's chest and hugged him around his neck. The detective hugged him back and blinked really fast. "Okay, okay, now get goin' before you're late."
Shermie let him go and hurried off to school, his new notebook held tightly against his chest. Uncle Jack's throat felt tight as he watched his little buddy go, but as he cleared it he blamed it on allergies.
Uncle Jack opened the door and was nearly rammed to the floor by three boys. "Holy Moses! Choo all nearly killed me, so strong! Look at choo!"
Ma smiled as her sons, each with a backpack on their back and huge smiles on their faces, were wrestling their uncle with hugs and choke-holds. Stanley had somehow made it onto his shoulders and was choking Uncle Jack pretty good, but then the quick-witted detective tickled the six-year-old in the ribs and Stanley released to shield his ribs. "Alright, alright, don't break your uncle, y'all only get one, you know." Ma warned as she chuckled.
"Oh, leave 'em be, sis." Uncle Jack squeezed the boy and looked down at them. Shermie, now ten-years-old, didn't need to be walked to school anymore (their little daily routine had stopped after Shermie's first year) but they still saw plenty of their uncle. He was really busy with cases these days, but he always made time for fun sleepovers and birthdays and holidays. "Geez, when did I see choo boys last? N' when did choo two get so tall? Who gave choo permission to grow up?" Uncle Jack teased the twins.
"Nobody!" Stanley said proudly and puffed his chest out.
Uncle Jack laughed and patted his back."I love this guy! Takes after the coolest uncle in the world!"
"You have no idea." Ma said and rolled her eyes. "Okay, y'all be good."
"Yes, Ma." Shermie, Stanley, and Stanford said in unison.
"I wasn't talkin' to just you three." Ma sneered playfully at her little brother and she left as Uncle Jack laughed.
"Don't worry, Caryn, I'll behave." He closed the door, turned to the three boys, and said "Buckle up, boys," with a sly smile like a fox.
The boys grinned from ear-to-ear and were ready for the night of their lives.
Uncle Jack lived alone in this cool apartment in New York City. It was small and noisy and a little rusty and dirty, but it was cool! There was a huge room by the front door, one half being an office with poster boards with newspaper clippings, photographs, and red string, the floor littered with wads of paper, stacks of books on tables and chairs, a bookshelf full to the brim against a wall, and the other half being a somewhat normal living room. It was just an old couch and an armchair with a tiny TV and a big window that would let in sunlight, but today the curtains were drawn for good TV watching.
Their favorite thing to do together was "camping". Uncle Jack would shut off all the lights in the apartment, the kids would pull out sleeping bags, and using the armchair and the couch for pillars, they would make a tent out of blankets and pillows. They played board games with real money instead of paper money, and whatever the kids won they keep, and Uncle Jack was teaching the kids how to play poker. Around dinnertime, Uncle Jack would let the boys watch whatever they wanted on the TV while he made their traditional dinner: spaghetti with diced hotdogs. It was such an easy and delicious meal, and every time Uncle Jack was in the tiny kitchen, the boys could hear him singing a little song to himself.
"Oh spaghetti with some hotdogs.
If you're bored and lumpy just like logs,
Just come and sit in a sleep-cocoon.
Ford likes to wear lots of maroon.
"Oh spaghetti with some hotdogs.
They're probably made out of hogs.
If your stomach is grumblin'
And your mouth starts mumblin',
There's only one thing to keep your body from crumblin'.
"Oh spaghetti with some hotdogs.
I'm runnin' out of words that rhyme with dogs.
I dunno, maybe bogs or clogs or jogs.
You think Stan would like a hedgehog?
"Oh spaghetti with some hotdogs.
Shermie once stepped on a frog.
This food's what this song's 'bout,
It'll make you wanna shout
For spaghetti with some hotdogs!"
Then they would all sit on the floor and eat dinner while Uncle Jack told stories in front of a creepy and cool old lantern he had, using his hands to make shadow puppets and teaching the kids how to make cool shapes (Stanford was really good at shadow puppets), but eventually the boys would just stare at their uncle as he stood against a wall, the lantern as his light, and told stories about him taking down the bad guys.
"So there I was, my back against the wall." Uncle Jack recapped. "It looked like I was a goner n' had no way out, but your Uncle Jack wasn't 'bout to give up just yet. I twisted one guy's arm, popped his shoulder out of his socket, swung him against another guy, dodged a bullet, n' handcuffed the other guy n' knocked him out with a quick punch in the face. The last guy stood there n' looked ready to wet himself, but then the cops came n' took care of the rest."
"Wow, that's amazing!" Shermie exclaimed. "I can't believe you took out all those bad guys at once!"
"That's really cool, Uncle Jack." Stanford awed.
Stanley shook his head and said, "I'm done bein' afraid."
Uncle Jack sat down across from the brothers and asked, "Now what's that gotta do with anything?"
"Well, you weren't afraid of those bad guys. That's how you won, right?"
The detective laughed. "Now in what part of the story did I say I wasn't scared, kid?"
"But you took on all those bad guys by yourself!"
"N' I was scared doin' it, free-spirit." Uncle Jack said and looked at the kids a little more seriously. "If choo ain't scared, choo ain't alive. There's nothin' wrong with bein' afraid as long as choo use that fear to go good things, like makin' sure choo come home." Uncle Jack reached into his trenchcoat, checked his pocket watch, and pocketed it again. "Anyways, it's bedtime. Tomorrow we'll have cheese toast n' then I'll take choo guys to Central Park before your ma picks choo up."
"Cool!" And Stanley got into his sleeping bag; the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner another fun day with Uncle Jack would come.
"What time is it?" Shermie asked.
"Nine-thirty."
"Can we see your watch?"
Uncle Jack raised his eyebrow at his eldest nephew, who just kept on smiling. The adult sighed and pulled his watch out again. Stanford, Stanley, and Shermie circled closer to their uncle and Shermie carefully laid it in his hand. He clicked it open and the blissful noise of ticking filled the air. The watch was a beautiful watch, incredibly old and golden, but still in great condition. Swirls were etched into the sides of the watch and the inside of the cover had a message.
"Make every second count." Stanford read out-loud.
"Hey, good job, Sixer." And Uncle Jack ruffled his hair. Stanford and Stanley hadn't even started school yet and the six-year-old could read really well. "That's pretty impressive."
"I taught him that." Shermie said as he swelled with pride; not only did Ma read to them every night, but Shermie had read to the twins for homework since they were babies.
"I'm sure choo did, sport." Uncle Jack said warmly. "I'm proud of choo."
"Your dad gave you this watch, right?" Stanford asked.
"That's right." Uncle Jack said and smiled a little mournful. "Papa left it to me when he died."
"What does that mean, anyway?" Stanley asked. "Are you supposed to count every second? That's a lot of counting."
Uncle Jack laughed and took the watch back to pocket it away safely in his trenchcoat. "Naw, not that kinda count. It means to make every moment worth it. No one knows how long they got, but as long as you're around choo should do all choo can. Make every second count, choo know? Alright, legitimately, it's time for bed. G'night, sons."
"G'night, Uncle Jack." The three kids said and Uncle Jack carried the lantern with him down the short hallway for his bedroom.
"Man, I hope to be as cool as Uncle Jack one day." Stanley said as he laid on his back, his arms used for pillows.
"Good luck with that." And then Shermie was kicked for that comment.