Jack of All Maids (Hawthorne Hall #2)

Prologue

J ack Adamson dreaded the thought of his ever-approaching summer. With his first year of full boarding at Summer Fields Preparatory Academy winding down, it was time for holiday, and under typical circumstances, the idea of a month in Monaco would have been heavenly to an eight-year-old. However, with Thomas Burke’s family leaving for Capri, Jack felt even heaven would be hell without his newfound best mate. He briefly considered stowing away in his pal’s luggage. Unfortunately, Thomas’ arms proved too weak to pull off Jack’s grand design. Next, he concocted a plan to have himself shipped to the Burkes’ island hotel, but when he learned about something called customs , he went back to the drawing board.

Jack had never been considered bright…witty maybe, but not bright. And he didn’t care. What use was intelligence when he was the sole heir of a nine-figure family fortune? Through no fault of his own, he’d been spoiled rotten and thus became masterful in little more than the arts of goofy hijinks, riding coattails, and cutting corners. The same high-society privilege led to a lack of empathy and many accidental incidents of causing offense. But for everything he lacked in mental acuity and decorum, he made up for with a very big heart. Jack Adamson truly meant well, even if it wasn’t obvious.

“I don’t know about this, Jack,” Thomas said as he sat crisscrossed and cautious on Jack’s dorm room bed.

“What’s there to know, Thomas? You want to feel like I’m right there in Italy with you, right?”

“Of course.”

“You want to be literal blood brothers, right?”

“Yes…I suppose…”

“Well, then, it must be done! Now, give me your finger.”

“Wait!” Thomas shouted. “What is that?”

“A spork,” Jack replied.

“A spork?! But it’s duller than a fork”!

“And sharper than a spoon! Plus, it’s the best they had in the cafeteria.”

“Well…why are we doing this now only after you’ve bloodied your elbow? Why couldn’t we have done this last week when I scraped my knee on the pitch? Or two weeks ago when I stepped in between your face and Joel McGowan’s fist? We could have become blood brothers then - with you getting stabbed by a spork.”

“Because Thomas …I didn’t think of this ‘til now. Plus, you know you have a higher pain tolerance than I do.”

Thomas’ eyes dashed back and forth as if he were trying to piece something together in his mind.

“Ohhh… I know what this is all about!” Thomas said as he looked at his mate with a tilted face of skepticism.“You think my blood running through your veins will make you part black, don’t you?”

Jack’s young mind had never considered it.

“Would it?” Jack asked excitedly.

“No!” Thomas exclaimed. “And what about the germs?”

“What are you on about? I haven’t even removed the spork from the plastic yet.”

“I meant rubbing our two open wounds together.”

“For goodness sake! It’s just a little…oh, great! Would you look at that: my cut’s already starting to scab. If we don’t do this soon, we’re both gonna need to get stabbed. Is that what you want? Your best mate stabbed ?”

“Fine!” Thomas said as he gave Jack his finger and looked away.

“Alright…deep breath in…hold it…”

With that, Jack plunged the tiny plastic prongs into Thomas’ digit, but the pressure caused the spork to snap at the handle – leaving Thomas’ pointer finger with little more than a few indented skin dots.

“Ouch!”

“Oh, stop. It didn’t even go in.”

“Well, maybe this is a sign that we shouldn’t be doing this. I mean, have we even thought through the implications?” Thomas asked.

“What instamations?”

“Well, Jack, it didn’t seem like you were very fond of my father when he came to visit…or my sister, for that matter.”

“Yeah? So? He had bad breath, and she got her grubby little fingerprints all over my comics! Including my pristine number one issues of Daredevil, Man-Thing, and Royal Roy. They’re all worthless now!”

“Exactly! Think about it; when you become my blood brother, you become his blood son and her blood brother, too.”

Thomas was right. Mr. Burke’s breath was terri ble. And Zuri’s insufferable lack of manners made his brain run the entire gamut of silent obscenities. Still, Thomas was one in a billion and worth all the unwanted familial baggage he came with.

“You know what…I don’t care!” Jack exclaimed with such inspiring confidence that Thomas immediately conceded his hand and waited for Jack to pick up the sharper half of the broken utensil. “Alright…you ready?”

Thomas nodded. Jack punctured.

“Owww!!!”

“A drop! Quick…touch my scrape!”

Thomas thrust the tip of his bleeding appendage into Jack’s scabbing elbow with more force than was necessary.

“Ahh! What was that for?”

“For stabbing me, you prat!” Thomas shook off the pain in his hand and asked, “So, now, what do we do?”

“I don’t know…do we have to say something to make it official?”

Thomas appeared to deeply consider the most viable options before saying, “How about… ‘Blood brothers, blood brothers…one blood…different mothers?’”

“Not bad. What about…‘Through thick and thin…always kin?”

“You know, now that I hear it coming from your mouth…the rhyming…and the blood…it feels…kinda gross. Kinda like witchcraft or something.”

“How dare you, Thomas! Why…I’d stab you with a spork if I hadn’t already. You know how much I hate witchcraft.”

“As do I, Jack. Which is why I steered us back to the safety of a blood oath that didn’t include any rhymed couplets.”

“Hmm…that you did. Thank you, mate.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How about we just say, ‘Blood Brothers!’ on the count of three.”

“Far less witchy.”

“Far less witchy, indeed.”

“Alright…ready?”

“Yep.”

“One…two…”