Matisse stumbled down the stairs, tripping over his feet, arms flailing as he attempted to shove them into the sleeves of his sport coat. Eventually he had fallen asleep, and he had QWERTY on his cheek to prove it.

Sorely tempted to skip school, he decided instead to keep to his typical schedule. Part of his strategy was to do everything he normally did, no matter how badly he wanted to wait at the door for his packages to arrive.

“Tie!” Nicole yelled at him when he was halfway out the door. He snatched it out of the air and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Thanks!” he called, hurrying outside and shutting the door.

As it did, he heard her, “Love you!”

He paused, turning and opening it again. “Love you.” He didn’t often say it, but for some reason, in the wake of everything he found himself willing to do, it seemed a small thing. Her face lit up, and he grinned. Yeah. I can tell her that every so often.

He sped to school, and the day passed in a blur. None of it pierced the haze of his anticipation. All he could think about was programming, setting everything up just so, and getting to work.

He managed to get home without causing an accident, though he did manage to sit through two green lights and the angry honks of the cars behind him before jolting out of his daydreams.

But the packages were waiting for him on a table in the foyer. He cradled them in his arms before he hurried upstairs.

“Matisse?” Nicole’s voice carried to him.

“Have work to do!” he called, and slammed his door shut, making sure to lock it.

With steady hands, he got right to work. He added the parts he needed to his computer and began the arduous task of shielding his computer, address, and anything else that could be linked to him. From there, it was testing the site. He got in and out, and then doubled back to see if he’d left any trace.

It looked good.

The site wasn’t as protected as other places he’d been. His father’s company’s site put this one to shame, which was a problem when he thought about it. Patents were as valuable as the information stored at the bank. Maybe it wasn’t actual money, but there was the potential for billions of dollars with some of these ideas.

Idiots. Maybe they’d learn a lesson after this. No. He dismissed the thought immediately. If they learned a lesson, it meant they learned he was there. The very last thing he wanted was anyone knowing what he’d done.

For a moment, anxiety stabbed him, and he dropped his head into his hands, yanking at his hair. This was for his family. Illegal or not, it had to be done.

The sun had set, but so far, no knock on the door from his mom. Rather than wait for her to appear, which he had no doubt she would do, he shut down the system and went downstairs.

The house was silent except for the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Taking advantage of his family’s absence, he quickly got food from the kitchen and ran back upstairs. He buried himself in work again and forgot entirely about everyone else. As the hours passed by, he forced himself to stop, afraid fatigue would make him sloppy. But the truth was he didn’t feel sloppy. He felt more aware of what he was doing, like he was laser sharp. But he didn’t trust himself with this and shut down for the night.

Or morning. The sun teased the edge of the horizon; he’d only get a couple of hours before school.

One more day. All he needed to finish was one more day.

The day passed and Matisse, in what he decided was the definition of anti-climactic, got in, erased the patent and any paperwork, sign, hint, or sideways glance of its existence. It was over.

Nothing was left to do, except tell his father, but the opportunity was a lot harder to find than getting past government firewalls. Matisse left message after message. Finally, he resorted to telling his mother he needed to talk to him then asking her to call him.

“He’s very busy, Tisse. Stressed at work. Give him space. You know how he gets—you’re the same way.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll tell him,” she said, and when he tried to impart how important it was he speak to Dad, she held up her hand and turned away. “He’ll call. Just give him time.”

It wasn’t until a full week later, late on Saturday night, while creeping in from a night with Victor and his friends that he got the chance.

The light shone beneath the office door, and after knocking and waiting for Dad to call him in, he entered. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.” No reason to beat around the bush. “You asked me to do something, and it’s done.”

His dad’s face, when he first entered and began to speak was annoyed, but as Matisse went on it morphed to amazement then all-out relief.

“It’s done. Everything is gone. You’re set.”

Tapping his foot on the wood floor, Dad seemed at a loss for words. He waited for him to say something. Thank you, maybe, or thank God. He’d take a thank God. Anything.

Instead he pushed back his chair. “You’re sure? You left no sign? No one could find out you’d been in there?”

Dad was worried about him; there was no reason for it, but he was glad he cared enough to ask.

“No. Unless there’s some guy around as smart as me, and there isn’t. Except maybe you, but I’ll leave you in the dust, old man.”

A smile crinkled the skin around Dad’s eyes, but his mouth was tight. “You will.” He pressed his palms against the leather blotter and leaned toward him. “I can’t thank you enough, Matisse. You’ve saved this company. I didn’t expect—you did it so fast! I thought you were taking all this time to think about it, and I’ve been making contingency plans. Liquidating assets, transferring the titles into your mother’s name...”

“It was that bad?” He’d understood the implications of the advancement, but hadn’t realized how bad off the company would be if it hadn’t happened.

“It is—was. It’s fixed now.” He sank into the chair. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Well, believe it. It’s done.” With a rap of his knuckles on the desk, he headed to the door.

“Tisse, wait.” Dad had an expression he couldn’t quite identify. “Thank you.”

He paused to figure out what it was he was reading on Dad’s face, but gave up. This time, he’d take his words at face value. “You’re welcome.”

Task completed, he fell into bed and for the first time in days, fell asleep without a care.