Orbiting Jupiter

by Gary D. Schmidt

And the way he looked at me – I don’t ever want anyone to look at me like that again. But he was so close to the dark ice.

‘I am a father,’ said Joseph. ‘No,’ said Mrs Stroud, ‘you signed away—’ ‘I’m Jupiter’s father,’ said Joseph. ‘I will always be Jupiter’s father.’ After that, he wouldn’t talk with Mrs Stroud. He wouldn’t talk with anyone. He lived at Stone Mountain for a month. He wouldn’t talk to anyone. Not even when he got beat up. Not the first time, not the second time, not the third time. Not even when they held him down and …

They hadn’t taken in any boys for almost twelve years.

The air was so cold, it was chiming like a struck tuning fork. I was shivering and my feet were freezing. But I guess I was about as happy as I’d ever been.

Then he looked at me. ‘Don’t let them get behind you, ever,’ he said. ‘I won’t,’ I said. Then he took the book back.

And when he milked, Joseph talked about Madeleine. And when we lifted weights, Joseph talked about Madeleine. And when we carried bales of hay to Quintus Sertorius, Joseph talked about Madeleine. At supper, he talked about Madeleine. At night, in the dark before sleep, he talked about Madeleine.

I guess that night at the pond, while my father and mother and I got colder and colder listening to Joseph, I guess that night unfroze him.

For Joseph, this was the first Christmas tree he’d ever had, and when he looked at one and touched its branches and smiled – number five, sort of – it didn’t seem right to argue.

Joseph took it out of the tissue paper. He hung it on the tree and pushed it a little with his finger. It turned and glittered with the lights. ‘Jupiter would love this,’ he said.

‘Maybe angels aren’t always meant to stop bad things.’ ‘So what good are they?’ ‘To be with us when bad things happen.’ Joseph looked at him. ‘Then where the hell were they?’ he said. I thought Reverend Ballou was going to start bawling.

He walked over to my mother and she put her arms around him and he put his arms around her and he leaned into her – the way he did with Rosie. Then my father came up behind him. He put his hand on Joseph’s back. Christmas is the season for miracles, you know. Sometimes they come big and loud, I guess – but I’ve never seen one of those. I think probably most miracles are a lot smaller, and sort of still, and so quiet, you could miss them. I didn’t miss this one. When my father put his hand on Joseph’s back, Joseph didn’t even flinch.

when I turned around, another shovelful across my chest and in my face, and Joseph was smiling and laughing. Joseph was smiling and laughing. Number six – not even sort of.

he was laughing so hard, he was doubled over – and I threw it onto his back. And then of course he had to get another shovelful and I had to get one and … You can figure out the rest.

That cold wind stayed with us as we waited for Joseph to come back inside. And even after he did, it stayed with us the rest of that night. And it stayed with us the rest of Christmas vacation. Joseph didn’t play anymore. We didn’t talk about his father coming, but it was like that feeling you have in dreams, when something is on its way and there’s nothing you can do about it except to hope you wake up before it comes. Sometimes you do.

You know what happened when Mr Brook put his hand on Joseph’s back? Joseph flinched. But he went into the living room with his father anyway.

his coat too, and we went out together. He didn’t talk at all.

When Rosie heard us, she turned her head back and mooed her happy moo and waggled her rump to tell Joseph she loved him. Cows can be like that when you need them to be. Not always, but sometimes. And maybe Rosie knew Joseph needed her to be like that right then.

Joseph smiled – sort of. I think it was the seventh time.

BUT THE DAYS dragged on, and they grew heavy with snow again. The days dragged on, and they grew heavy with cold again. The days dragged on, and they grew heavy with waiting.

The sound of the wind was awful, like it was crying and lost and scared and not sure what to do except to wail.

‘The boy isn’t your brother?’ he said. ‘I have his back,’ I said.

He smiled. Really. He smiled. Number eight. Definitely not sort of.

But it was my father who carried Joseph out of the truck. That’s all he would tell me. THE FUNERAL SERVICE for Joseph was three days later.

So Reverend Ballou read some verses and talked about them and he said something about angels and he stopped for a little bit and then he said, really quiet, ‘Where the hell were they?’ and then we prayed a long time.

Afterwards we went out to the cemetery on Lower Gore, where the Hurd grandparents and great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents are buried. Mr Canton and Mr D’Ulney, and my father and I, we held the ropes that lowered Joseph into our family, beside the high white pines.

‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’

Crying because Joseph wasn’t just my friend. I had his back. And he had mine. That’s what greater love is.

‘Jackie,’ said Jupiter. ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Jackie.’ ‘Jackie,’ Jupiter said again.

‘Jupiter,’ I whispered back. ‘Jupiter. I promise I’ll always know where you are.’ ‘Jackie,’ she said again. And I carried her into the house.