“Kid, are you okay?” A man in a suit stood above Pete and leaned down. He had a phone to his ear. “Hello, yeah. There’s been an accident. There’s a teenager—he’s bleeding. On the arm. Uh, at a construction site on Willington and Salisbury. Hurry, please … don’t worry, kid, help is on the way. Yes, he is conscious …”
Dazed, Pete glanced at the open gash on his arm. It wasn’t very deep.
But …
He could have died.
“Pete!” Mom yelled as soon as she stepped into the house. “Pete!”
“In my room,” he called out. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. After the paramedic bandaged him up at the construction site, he called his mom and walked back home. He didn’t even want to wait for a ride—he wanted to get as far away from the construction site as possible. Now his energy was spent. He’d noticed his back was sore, so he’d gone to the bathroom and lifted his shirt in front of the mirror. As if his sliced arm wasn’t bad enough, he also had a bunch of fresh scratches on his back from falling on the sidewalk.
Yesterday, he’d had a couple of close calls, but this latest accident was more dangerous. This time there was actual blood.
Mom swept into his bedroom in a flurry of nerves. “Oh my gosh! Oh my baby!”
Pete sighed. “Mom, I’m okay. It’s a small wound. I didn’t need stitches. Everything is fine.”
She grabbed his hand, scanning the bandage on his arm. “How did this happen?” She felt his cheek, ran a hand over his head, and gave him a kiss on his forehead.
Pete looked at his arm and answered honestly. “Don’t know, really.”
Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Were you not paying attention? Was the construction worker being negligent? Do we need to call a lawyer? Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
“No. Okay, Mom? Just relax. Geez.” While it was kind of nice to have all of her attention for once, her anxiety put him on edge.
“No, I am not relaxing. You could have really gotten hurt.” She straightened and crossed her arms with a determined look on her face. “That’s it. You are not walking to school anymore. You can ride a bus or get a ride. Maybe I can change my schedule. I’ll drive you and your brother to school. I think I can make it all work.” Then she placed her hands on her hips as if she was suddenly Wonder Woman and there was nothing that could stop her. “I will make it work.”
“Mom, stop. It was just a … freak accident.” Which he’d been having a lot of lately.
There was a knock at the front door before it swung open.
Pete shot up in his bed, startled. “Who the hell is that?”
“Pete, your language.”
“Hello, anybody home?” bellowed a familiar voice.
Pete stared at his mom accusingly. “You called Dad?”
She said “Of course I called your father. Over here, Bill. In Pete’s room.” Quickly, she started to pick up dirty clothes that were thrown on the floor. “I have to call him when there’s an emergency. Gosh, Pete, this room is a mess.”
Like that was anything new.
Dad filled the doorway, wearing cargo pants and a T-shirt, with his pocket vest and a floppy canvas hat.
There was a forced smile buried under his scruffy beard. “There’s my boy.”
“You were fishing?” Mom asked him, surprised.
“No, not yet. I took the rest of the day off. Making it an early weekend. I’m here to take my firstborn with me to the lake. How you doing there, Pete? Let’s see that arm.” His dad stepped toward the bed, kicking water bottles as he went. His jaw hardened, but he didn’t say anything about the mess.
Pete raised his arm for his dad’s inspection, unsure what to make of his visit. He hadn’t seen his dad in a couple of months. Only talked to him on the phone a few times. Suddenly he was home, like really home. He hadn’t been inside the house in nearly six months. It used to be so normal to have Mom and Dad home together and now … it felt super awkward.
Dad made a humph sound. “Doesn’t look too bad. You’ll be good as new before you know it.”
“Um, yeah, well. I don’t think I’m up to fishing today, Dad.” In fact, he knew he wasn’t up to it. He was sore and he wanted to lay down and go to sleep. Pete gave his mom a pleading look. Help me.
She hesitated. “He’s tired, Bill. Maybe another time. It’s been a crazy morning.”
Dad waved a hand. “Nonsense. He’s fine. Fishing calms the nerves and relaxes the mind. Come on now, get ready to go, Pete. I got sandwiches already packed. It’s going to be a great time, you’ll see.”
The sun was brutal even through a haze of clouds. Pete leaned back in a folding chair next to his dad on an old pier. A cooler sat between them and an old tackle box was spread open at his dad’s feet. Pete’s arm was sore, so he didn’t do much casting of the fishing line. Instead, he took in the scene. A handful of small boats were in the lake with people—mostly old people—fishing in them. Every few minutes, the water rippled in the stiff breeze and brought with it the scent of decaying fish and plants. Pete couldn’t remember his dad catching any fish at the local lake. He wondered if anyone caught anything here—ever.
It seemed weird, fishing alone with his dad. It had probably been a couple of years since they’d been to the lake, and Chuck was usually tagging along, filling the silence with a bunch of questions for Dad. Chuck always had to know things. Why something worked or how it worked or where things were made. Pete wasn’t sure if Chuck really wanted the answers or the attention, but either way he was used to it. Chuck liked to ask questions and Pete didn’t care to talk much.
“So, Pete, I want to know how you’re doing,” Dad said.
Pete lifted his hat, scratched his head, and slipped his cap back on. “I’m fine, Dad.”
“Your mother says you stopped playing football and haven’t been getting along much with your brother.” His dad didn’t use an accusing tone, but Pete could feel his disapproval, just like he had with his messy room. His dad always acted like it was Pete’s fault when things went the wrong way. Outside events—like, say, parental actions—didn’t come into the equation. It must be cool to be an adult and be right all the time, Pete thought.
Pete shrugged even though his dad wasn’t looking at him. “I’m done with football. It’s not for me anymore.” The breeze blew and someone’s fishing line flew past Pete’s face. He flinched and looked at a guy floating in his boat a couple of yards away, paying no attention to where he was casting his line.
His dad said “All right. That’s your choice, about football. But you’re Chuck’s big brother, and there’s no choice in that.”
Pete didn’t exactly need to be reminded, but his dad went on.
“And as a big brother, you have some responsibility. I was a big brother to your aunt Lucy. Still am when she needs me. She’s got a husband now, so she doesn’t depend on me much anymore …” At the topic of husband, he seemed to get a little uncomfortable.
Pete ground his teeth together. Too bad he forgot his gum. Lectures were always boring and a waste of airspace, but at least gum would have been a distraction. He stared out across the lake, hoping something might break up this uncomfortable moment.
“But anyway … sometimes responsibility can be a lot for a kid,” his dad said, clearing his throat. “You know, with school, grades, and girls making you feel funny.” His dad gave him a side glance. “Got any questions about girls?”
Pete’s cheeks burned and he shook his head adamantly in a negative.
“Okay, well, my point is if you need to talk to someone, I’m here for you, son.” His dad turned to him fully then, staring like he was waiting for Pete to say something big.
Pete frowned. “Uh, okay.”
His dad ran a hand down his beard. “Or if it’s easier to talk to a stranger, I can find you a counselor.”
“What? No, I don’t need a counselor.”
“Well, with your wrist …” His eyes went to Pete’s bandage.
“What about it? It was an accident.”
His dad’s gaze became more intense. “Was it really, Pete?”
Pete jerked back. “You think I did this to myself?”
“I’ve heard divorce can affect families in different ways—”
“I didn’t hurt myself, Dad. Geez.” Pete scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. A fishing line zipped by his face again and he jerked to the left to avoid it. If only the old guys would watch what they were doing!
“There’s no judgment, son, if you did. Just want you to remember that I’m always here for you and your brother.”
Pete laughed suddenly and harshly. “You keep saying that. I’ve barely seen you since the divorce. You’re not here for me or Chuck. You and Mom expect me to take your place with him.” Pete thought he would feel better after getting the truth out, but he just felt bad. There was a funny feeling in his chest, like someone putting a hand there and pushing hard.
Dad’s shoulders slumped. “That’s not true, Pete. I live across town and you know I work odd hours. I’m doing the best I can. You and Chuck need to know that. I mean … I’ll try harder. I love you both.”
Yeah, Pete heard that a lot from both of his parents, but words weren’t enough anymore. If Pete wanted to, he could really just cry right now. But crying hurt even worse than getting mad, so he decided on the mad.
“This,” Pete lifted his bandaged arm to his dad’s face, “was a freak accident. There were witnesses, okay? Unless I used my mind to make a buzz saw blade fly at me and try to take my hand off? Right! Not freaking possible. Just take me home, Dad. I’m done!”
“Please calm down, Pete.”
“Please, just take me home.” Pete stood so quickly that his folding chair skidded back. A gust of wind blew against him, almost taking his hat. He grabbed it before it could float away. Then he heard a very faint sound before something sharp tore into his cheek just below his eye.
Something tugged his face forward. “Ahhhhh!”
“Pete!”
He dropped his pole as his hands flew to his face to find a fishing hook stuck into his skin. The hook was attached to a fishing line, trying to pull his skin off. He leaned forward, screaming. Shock and pain flooded through him. His heart was pounding so fast he thought it might explode out of his chest.
The line was so tight, Pete stepped forward again to try and ease the pressure. There was only dark water below him, and he couldn’t stop himself.
I’m going to go head first into the lake, he thought.
He felt his dad’s arm wrap around him to keep him from falling. “Hold still!” His dad whipped out a small hunting knife and cut the line. The pressure instantly released.
Pete hunched over in severe pain. Blood dripped into the water.
His dad held him. “It’s okay, buddy, I got you.” He pulled him back away from the edge of the pier.
“I’m sorry!” someone called out. “Is he okay? The freaking wind blew my cast toward you guys. I can’t believe it!”
“Pete, look at me. Come on, let’s see the damage.”
His dad leaned him back. Pete could barely see the hook sticking out of his face. His eyes watered, snot ran from his nose, and tears mixed with the blood dripping down his cheek.
Dad blew out a breath. “Oh yeah. Got you pretty good but you’ll be just fine. We’re lucky it didn’t take out your eye.”
So I guess Pete had a bad day.
Pete and Dad came home and Mom rushed to Pete. His face was all bandaged up.
Chuck’s eyes widened. Wow, he almost looked like Frankenstein! But he’d have to save that nickname for another day.
“How did this happen?” Mom practically shrieked. “Oh, Pete, your poor face.”
“Hey, there, Chuck, my boy!”
“Hi, Dad,” said Chuck, and gave a little wave. He remembered when he was little and he used to climb his dad’s legs till he picked him up. Chuck wondered when he stopped doing that.
Dad threw his hands in the air. “Now, Audrey, let’s stay calm. It was a freak accident. A hook caught him in the cheek. It wasn’t too bad, so I was able to patch him up myself.”
Her eyes widened. “Another freak accident, on the same day? How is that even possible?”
Dad ran a hand down his beard. “Not sure. I think he needs to stay in bed, get some rest. I’m sure these accidents will pass.”
“Yes, resting was what he was supposed to be doing,” Mom snapped. “It was your bright idea to take him to the lake so he could get hooked like a fish. Why weren’t you looking out for him?”
Dad whipped off his canvas hat, revealing his bald head. “Audrey, that’s not fair. He was sitting right next to me. It was a windy day. A freak thing—”
Pete collapsed on the couch. He looked dazed as he watched Mom and Dad go back and forth, talking about him. Chuck wasn’t used to seeing his brother look so … vulnerable. He was bigger than him, mouthy, and always annoying. Now, sitting on the couch, he seemed small and almost frail.
Chuck went and sat next to Pete, staring at his brother’s face. “You look”—like Frankenstein—“bad, Pete. Does it hurt?”
“What do you think?” he muttered.
Chuck nodded as if he understood. “Pretty bad day, huh? So … what do you think is going on with you? Did you walk under a ladder? Break a mirror? Cross a black cat?”
Pete frowned. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“What did you do to earn a streak of bad luck?”
Pete just shook his head. “It’s not bad luck and I’m not accident-prone,” he insisted. “I don’t know what it is.”
Chuck licked his dry lips and leaned closer to his brother. “It’s something weird, though, right? First, you were sick, and Mom filled me in about the weird accident with the construction site, and now this fishing thing.” Chuck had been thinking about the weird stuff that had piled up in his brother’s life—it had all the makings of a really good puzzle. “This all started when you tried to scare me at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza,” he pointed out.
Pete tried to scowl, but he winced as the gesture hurt his face. “What? Now you’re trying to say this is something like karma? Bull. No way. I don’t believe in that stuff.”
Chuck shrugged. “You can’t deny it’s weird.”
Pete was silent a moment, then said quietly, “It wasn’t just those things.”
Chuck raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
Pete shook his head. “Can’t talk about it now. I’ll tell you later.” He nodded toward his parents as if he didn’t want them to hear.
Chuck went to his room, sat on the floor in front of his TV, and started playing video games. He didn’t really think Pete would tell him anything more, but a couple of hours later, Pete walked into his room and sat on his bed. His cheek was puffed out below his eye and his eyes were bloodshot.
Chuck paused his game and just looked at him, waiting.
“In school yesterday, I slipped and fell in biology class. I kicked a kid and his scalpel went flying. When I hit the ground, the scalpel was going for my eye.”
Chuck’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”
“I knocked it away before it could hit me.”
Chuck was impressed. “Quick thinking.”
Pete looked pleased for a second. “Yeah, when you got the skills …”
“What else?”
Pete shrugged. “I went to pick up the chops at the butcher for Mom, and there wasn’t anybody behind the counter. So I walked in the back trying to find someone. Out of nowhere, a cleaver falls from a hook and slams into the butcher’s block by my hand.”
“Holy cow! That’s close!”
“Yeah, crazy close. I mean, if I believed in weird stuff, I’d think something was up. But I don’t believe in anything like …”
“Curses?”
Pete frowned. “Get real, Chuck.”
Chuck sighed. Why did he have such a stubborn brother? “What
else can explain this? Four times? It’s got to be something. Come on, Pete.”
“Whatever it was, I’m done with it.” Pete cleared his throat. “Just in case, it’s because of, you know, dragging you to see Foxy.” He stuck his hand toward Chuck.
Chuck’s eyes widened as he looked at it.
Pete lifted his eyebrows. “Well? Shake.”
Might as well, Chuck thought. Hesitantly, he took his brother’s hand and shook it.
Pete took his hand back and even apologized. “I’m sorry about trying to scare you. It was dumb. Let’s call a truce between us, okay?”
Chuck smiled. “Okay, truce. Thanks, Pete.”
Pete stood up unsteadily. “I’m going back to bed. Later.”
“Later,” Chuck murmured, as his brother walked out of his room. Then he started thinking, rummaging through his desk for a notebook to write in. His brother may want to brush off all of his ideas but there had to be an explanation. There had to be.
“What game are you playing?” Pete asked Chuck from his bedroom doorway. He’d spent most of Saturday in bed and now he felt the need to get up and walk around the house. Lying in his bed gave him too much thinking time. He kept replaying each freak accident over in his head and it wasn’t cool.
“Just an indie adventure game. Want to check it out?”
Pete shrugged and sat cross-legged with his brother on the floor. Chuck’s room was a lot different than Pete’s. First of all, Chuck actually used his hamper instead of dropping his clothes all over the floor. His bed was made. His desk was clear of extra paper. He had a bookshelf with books on aliens, and conspiracy theories. A couple of gamer posters were pinned neatly on the wall.
Chuck explained the game. “You see, I’m the mage, and I have to look for all the hidden ingredients to make a potion to stop an evil wizard. He has my village under a spell and I need to help break the curse with the potion and release the village before it’s too late.”
“What happens if you’re too late?”
“Then I lose them forever. They remain under the control of the evil wizard. And that is not happening.”
Pete smirked. “You like to be the hero, don’t you?”
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