Page 51 of Zero Confusion

“Kinda.” Zach sighed. “I’m worried about missing the class today. The final’s next week.”

Jerry hummed in understanding before tucking away the wrappers and handing Zach a bottle of lukewarm water. Lunch was over. They hopped back into the cab and continued their slow journey.

Since Zach wasn’t familiar with the controls, Jerry drove, slicing neat, even lines through the field. Back and forth. Back and forth. Wanting to feel useful, Zach monitored the grain flow and took care of the few minor clogs they’d experienced through the day. Between the constant rattling and the engine, it was too loud to talk, and they barely exchanged a handful of words for the rest of the day, working in silence. Zach lost track of time until they emptied the grain tank into the cart for the millionth time, and Jerry checked his watch, groaning in relief. “Close enough. Let’s call it a day.”

As if on cue, Abe popped up from behind the cart, where he’d been hanging out for most of the day, driving the cart to the silo whenever it filled up, and gave them an enthusiastic wave. “I’ll finish up and meet you at the house.”

Zach eyed Jerry with curiosity on the walk back.

“You seem too happy to be done. I thought you loved this.”

“Nah, not really,” Jerry said with a good-natured grin. “I like messing around with the heavy machinery, but sitting at the wheel all day is a bit much.”

“Sounds like you’d do well as a mechanic.”

“Maybe. We don’t have enough stuff at the farm to justify a full-time mechanic, not like the Carters.”

Zach weighed his options, wondering if he should speak his mind. He didn’t delude himself into believing his opinion would make a difference, but Jerry was his brother.

He had to at least try.

“You know, you don’t have to stay at the farm.” Zach glanced over, worried about the reaction, but Jerry kept his gaze fixed ahead. “If you want to be a mechanic, you should do that. You could get an apprenticeship.”

“Maybe after you graduate.”

Hot shame washed over Zach. He had to tell his family he wasn’t coming back.

Soon.

But not yet.

Jerry, either sensing the sudden tension or out of sheer boredom, smoothly steered the conversation to video games—a subject that didn’t require Zach’s participation beyond making appropriate noises of interest at regular intervals. Surprisingly, Jerry’s in-depth explanation of the world-building inside the latest zombie-killing game kept him entertained until they got to the house.

“Son?” His dad motioned him closer as they entered the living room. “Anthony’s asked if you’d pitch in tomorrow. They ain’t got enough hands with Max laid up and Laura glued to him.”

Made sense. It’d be damn near impossible to find someone to cover for Max in the middle of the busy season. “No problem, as long as he doesn’t ask me to spend the day in a combine.”

“I heard that!” Jerry yelled from the kitchen.

Walter chuckled and clapped Zach on the back. “C’mon now, let’s go get some supper. Your mom whipped up some of those cheese potatoes you like.”

Zach didn’t need to be told twice. Hours of manual labor and fresh air had him starving.

Sitting down for a meal with his family, he was temporarily lost in a blur of laughter and teasing, the clatter of dishes passed around the table, and his dad’s familiar meandering stories. Zach soaked it in, joining in the fun, trading inside jokes with his brothers and answering his mom’s questions about his life in Portland. It was nice to feel like he belonged for once. Most of the time, he felt like an outsider looking in. Observing rather than participating. Too different from the rest of his family to really fit in. But occasionally, there’d be moments like these—wholesome, loving—and Zach wondered if maybe there was a place for him there after all.

After dinner, everyone disappeared to their corners of the house. His dad grabbed some tools to fix a wobbly kitchen shelf, and his mom stayed behind to put away the leftovers—though Zach suspected she was mostly there to supervise. Jerry and Abe sprawled out on the living room floor and booted up one of their first-person shooters, and Zach headed to the shower. He considered texting Miles to set up another meeting, but a wave of exhaustion hit him as he stood under the hot water. It had been his first day of farmwork in months, and he barely found enough energy to crawl into bed before passing out.

In the morning, he rolled out of bed with Jerry’s alarm and jogged next door, cutting across the land and hopping the low fence. Miles’s mom was getting into the car as he approached the house.

“Zach, sweetie!” She waved him over. “Thank you for helping out.”

“Of course, Mrs. Carter. How’s Max?”

“He’s coming home tomorrow, did you hear? They’ve done every test under the sun, and everything looks normal. Now he needs to stay put and let that leg heal up.”

“That’s great.” Zach smiled and darted a glance toward the house. Being alone with Miles’s mom made him nervous. He kept expecting her to start yelling at him for corrupting her little boy. “Are you still hosting the party?”

She frowned in confusion. “Didn’t your mama tell you? We asked your family to take over since we have our hands full.”