"Come on, Lincoln! Please!" a ten year old Madi begged her older brother.
"Mads, I really do have to do homework. Mr. Blake's real strict. He doesn't extend deadlines ever. Plus, you need to go to bed before Mom comes home," Lincoln tried to reason with his sister. She looked at him the way she did when she wanted something from him and he couldn't resist. He nodded and the fort building and shadow-puppet show began. Lincoln babysat Madi a lot. He doesn't mind though. He adored his sister and his mom always made sure he had time to do school work. His mom was busy. She was a psychologist who also gave counseling to a center for troubled teens when she could and she helped Charlotte who was in prison. She also found time to cram in her art and make some money from it. She set aside Wednesday and Sunday nights for Lincoln and Madi. She also tried to keep her weekends as a whole for family time. She was always there for them when they needed her. Lincoln had never felt like she didn't have time for him or that she didn't know what was going on in his life. They had a close relationship and told each other everything. After all, they had saved each other.
However, it was Wednesday and he was watching Madi with no clue as to when his mom would be home. This was a rare Wednesday when she had been called into the prison. Lincoln wasn't sure why but his mom had sounded panicked. He knew it had to do with Charlotte; it always did. Things triggered her and his mom was the only person that could really ground the girl back to reality. His mom worked so hard to help her and Lincoln did his part by making sure his sister is taken care of. So, he plays with her all the time, babysits her, and spoils her more than he knows he should. Which is why he was sitting on the floor, under a fort telling her a story with a rabbit and a wolf shadow puppet instead of sending her to bed or doing his homework.
Finally, Lincoln was able to convince Madi to get ready for bed and to sleep. He cleaned up the fort and scattered games before getting his school books out. He started to work on homework. He had been a quarter of a way through Mr. Blake's paper for English when his mother came through the door. She looked worse for the wear and he set his books and writing aside.
"What was it, Mom?"
"Charlotte had another episode. It took a while. She's still struggling. Seeing me never helps, but I'm the only one willing to go in there and not restrain her. I'm the only one who knows how to calm her down," Clarke said tiredly, sitting beside her son.
"I think you're the only one that can calm her down. Is she ok? Did she hurt herself or anyone?" Lincoln asked, checking his mom over.
"She got one hit in. We got officers in before she did too much damage. Don't worry; it wasn't too bad. She's alright right now. I guess she's been having nightmares again. Now, how was Madi?" Clarke asked. Lincoln sighed. He liked Charlotte; his mom made sure he did. However, she had been struggling for a little over ten years and it's been hard. It seemed like every time she seemed to get better and there was hope, something would set it back. He left it alone, knowing that was what she wanted. He had tried to talk to her about it and it almost always ended in a lecture.
"She was great. We had a lot of fun," Lincoln reassured her, "Mom, what's the recovery plan for Charlotte?" Lincoln asked. He couldn't help himself, but he made sure to word it in a way that was not questioning the purpose of helping or lack of plans or real progress. It wasn't something that his mom had addressed, but he wanted to know when she would get out. He knew his mom dreamed of the day all of her hard work would really show the day Charlotte stepped foot free. His mother went into detail about her plan and how long it would take. They began to discuss it and Lincoln's homework was forgotten. He made sure to simply ask questions and let her talk. She listened to so many peoples problems for a living that he was sure she needed to talk hers out once in a while and not just paint.
"We should go to bed, sweetie. It's one and you have school and I have work," Clarke told him. She stood and left. Lincoln panicked. His paper. He could get away with the other homework but his English paper? Mr. Blake was clear in his syllabus that he would not accept late papers or unfinished papers. He told them at the beginning of the year that they would have plenty of warning before the paper was due and that he would not waste his time grading half a paper. He said he wanted all his student's thoughts when he asked for them written fully with a beginning, ending, and a point. So, he couldn't turn in his partially written homework hoping that something was better than nothing. He couldn't skip school either; his mom never let him. He was taught to be honest and to work through his problems. He needed his sleep too. His mom would notice if he didn't and so would Mr. Blake from his paper if he tried to finish it in 5 sleep deprived hours or less. The man was his favorite teacher. He was new and taught Lincoln History and Lit./Comp. He looked up to the man and for the most part he believed Mr. Blake liked him too. He was an engaging teacher and his methods were all ones that Lincoln learned best from. He used a lot of art pieces especially in Ancient History, something Lincoln loved. He got his appreciation for art from his mother and his skills almost matched hers. It was not something he rarely shared though. It was not a popular thing to reveal to his high school buddies. That and it was something him and his mom did together, just the two of them. Lately he had been using Mr. Blake's History powerpoints as references for his art. The buildings and images Mr. Blake selected for class periods were beautiful and inspiring. He was sure after tomorrow though, the classes with the man would be far less enjoyable.
He sighed. There went his grade and Mr. Blake's respect. He went to bed, tossing and turning with worry the whole night in a restless sleep.