27 Meeting the Atkins 1 (1/2)

”I'm glad.” He told us. He looked at me specifically. ”You're doing great Jake. I'm sure you'll be safe and happy here.”

I gave a look at Noah. The word safe isn't one I would use in his company. He seems to be a troublemaker.

Noah looked offended. ”Are you trying to say that I'm not safe?” I tilted my head in response. ”Okay, Okay. Today was a bit tricky. But nothing happened! You even got a new bat today!”

”You got a bat?” Mr. Duncan asked.

I nodded.

”It doesn't bother you?”

I twitched.

”It's a wooden bat.” Noah cut in. ”He didn't want to use either of my aluminum bats. Does that have something to do with his mom not letting him play baseball?”

”Something like that.” Mr. Duncan grimaced. ”She's a very sick woman.”

Understatement.

”Noah! Set the table please! And grab a chair from the office.” Mrs. Atkins hollered from the kitchen. ”Your dad sent me a text saying they'll be here in just a few. Eight plates, eight sets of silverware, eight chairs.”

”Ugh.” Noah got up to do as he was told.

As he moved around, I sat patiently at the table. Mr. Duncan did too; not bothering to force small talk.

It wasn't long before we heard noises from the garage and chatter started to flow into the house.

”You were total shit this week. I don't even know why you were invited.”

”That's rich coming from you. Even Noah would be a better participant.”