When she let go, my physical responses were still … activated. That’s when Mackenzie Markowitz twisted the knife. “This is awesome,” she said. “My parents are taking me up in a few weeks for the Visitas—the admitted students’ weekend. If you want to come with us, there’s plenty of room in the SUV.”
Mackenzie Markowitz was testing me. First with all the physical contact, and now by bringing up her parents. She knew I’d never say yes to her offer. How could I sit in a car with the entire, intact, Markowitz family? She was trying to humiliate me. We stood there in the hall, staring at each other, before I finally realized she was waiting for an answer. As Dayana would say, Mackenzie Markowitz expected me to “bitch out.” That was not going to happen.
“A road trip,” I said, digging myself deeper and deeper into the hole. “Sounds like fun.”
Her smile widened even more and she put her hand on my chest and gave me a shove. “The battle continues. See you in calc class, Number Two.” She rejoined her friends and walked off, tossing one last smile over her shoulder. I watched her walk away, her shiny ponytail swinging back and forth.
When I turned around, Dayana was standing there.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
“She’s way into you,” she said.
“Who?”
“Harvard girl. With the hair.”
“Mackenzie Markowitz?”
“First name would’ve been fine. Yes, the girl who just rubbed her body all over your body.”
I was not in the mood for Dayana being Dayana. “Were you listening to my conversation?”
“My locker is right here.”
“Mackenzie Markowitz is not into me. She can’t stand me. She may look nice and shiny, but she’s the smartest, most ruthless, competitive person I know, and she will do anything to be number one. She’s wanted to beat me since we were in sixth grade.”
“Yeah, well now she wants a little nerd-on-nerd action.”
Dayana was mistaken, of course. Mackenzie Markowitz and I were sworn enemies. She stole my spot at Harvard and my number one ranking. I needed to get to class, but Dayana stood in my way.
“Wait,” said Dayana, looking over my shoulder. She called out to Jack down the hall and he started toward us. I tensed up.
She pulled Jack over to face me. “Tell him you’re sorry for being a dick on Christmas Eve.” Jack shook his head, but Dayana didn’t let him off the hook. “Say you’re sorry for calling him a freak and that other repugnant shit you said. We’re all freaks. Even you. Maybe especially you.”
Jack rubbed his hands together. They were raw and bruised. I didn’t want to know what—or whom—he’d been punching. “Sorry, man,” he said.
“That’s all?” asked Dayana. “Come on, Jailbird, you can do better than that.”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I said those things, Harrison. My head hurt. I got mad. Happens a lot these days.”
“I understand,” I said. “I know what it feels like to lose control of what’s going on in your brain and your body.”
“You do?”
Dayana chimed in. “Trust him. He does.”
“Next time you feel it happening, you might try reciting pi to as many decimal places as you can remember.”
Jack stared at me blankly.
“Or something else that calms you down,” I added.
“Good plan,” said Dayana.
“I was thinking,” said Jack. “Maybe we could start tutoring again. I’m eating it hard in chem.”
“Um. Okay. I’ve been busy with my research into the crash and spending time with Pop, but—”
“If you don’t have time, I get it.”
“No, I’ll find time. We’ll talk chem and maybe you can help me with other things.”
“You want him to help you with that girl?” asked Dayana.
“No, I…”
“Investigating the crash, you mean,” said Jack.
“You really don’t care about it?” I asked. “You don’t want some kind of closure?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just … You loved your mom a lot, right? She was good to you?”
“I was her world.”
“Yeah, it’s not that I didn’t love my parents, too. But since the crash and then my concussion, things just ricochet around my head sometimes. Good thoughts, bad thoughts, memories. Stuff that makes me angry. Stuff there’s no way to fix now that … now that they’re gone. So I think … I think the kind of closure I need I’m not going to get from any investigation.” He paused. “But I won’t get in your way if that’s what you need.”
Dayana touched his back. “Atta boy, Shawshank. By the way, our fellow freak here just got accepted at Hahvahd.” She grabbed my shirt and untucked it.
“No surprise. Nice, man,” said Jack, slapping me hard on the back.
I kept quiet. My stomach tightened as I let the lie continue. I was in too deep to get out now.
Dayana suggested that we “hit the diner” this afternoon to celebrate with greasy food. I told them I had plans with my father. I couldn’t stand the thought of lying through a whole meal.
Dayana got on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. Her eyebrow ring scratched against my face. “Congratu-fucking-lations. You did it. Wherever your mom is, she’s celebrating.”
Dayana and Jack walked away. I wished for nothing more than to open a locker and climb inside for the rest of my life.
* * *
Every day, I came home from school and buried myself in the plane crash. I couldn’t bear to look at Mom’s room, much less go inside. Not only had I failed at getting into Harvard, but now I was lying to the world about it. So I did the only thing I could think to do for her: solve her murder. Because that’s what it was to me now. Someone wanted that plane to fall from the sky. And these same people didn’t want us to know why. Archie and I had our weekly briefings, but he and Josie were definitely together now, and that changed everything for him. He had a reason to focus on the present. Jack and I restarted our tutoring sessions, but I couldn’t get him interested in my research either. I’d stay up most of the night, following internet rabbit holes, pursuing leads, reading the minutes of congressional subcommittee meetings with the Federal Aviation Administration and trying to contact Michael Boddicker, the NTSB investigator, who had yet to respond to my latest emails and phone calls and was still MIA from his office. And then one night, at 2:44 A.M., I was drifting off when an email popped into my inbox, jolting me wide-awake. I clicked on it immediately.
AGENT MICHAEL BODDICKER, NTSB
To: Harrison Rebkin
Re: Flight 206
Mr. Rebkin:
On behalf of the National Transportation Safety Board, let me extend our deepest condolences on the loss of your mother. I understand you’ve suffered a tremendous loss, one that defies comprehension. Our thoughts and prayers are with your friends and family at this time of tragedy. Our investigation into the crash of Flight 206 off the coast of Anguilla has been comprehensive. I will personally be traveling back to St. Martin and Anguilla in the near future to wrap up the investigation. Please be assured that we will contact you and the other families once we have reached a conclusion.
Once again, I am terribly sorry for your loss. I hope you find solace in the memories of your beloved mother.
Agent Michael Boddicker
National Transportation Safety Board
Washington, D.C.
People say lack of sleep dulls the senses, but I felt more energized, sharper, like I was seeing connections and nuances I’d normally miss. This was it. This was the cover-up and Agent Boddicker was trying to get rid of me. I had to share this information right now. I couldn’t keep it to myself. I grabbed my phone and raced down to my father’s room and shook him awake.
He was confused and groggy. “What’s wrong? Is someone in the house?”
“We have to get up.”
“Why? Wh
at time is it?”
“It’s imperative that we go to the headquarters of the NTSB to speak to them in person.”
“Who?”
“The so-called investigators, they’ve been giving me the runaround. But if I can make them look me in the eye and tell me about Mom’s plane— If we get in the car right now we could make it to D.C. by the time their offices open.”
Pop wasn’t stirring.
I switched on the light beside his bed and he shielded his eyes with his hand. “What the hell is this all about?” he mumbled.
“I’ll explain the specifics on the way, but we cannot wait any longer on this investigation. Every day wasted is another day where the cover-up has a chance to take root.”
Pop removed his hand and squinted up at me. “You want us to get in the car and drive to D.C.? Now?”
I explained how I’d been researching the crash and how Mom and her friends were caught in the middle of a government conspiracy. The officials were trying to silence me. It was the first time I’d said it so blatantly out loud. It felt good to get it out.
Pop grabbed his watch from the bedside table and checked the time. “It’s the middle of the night. Let’s talk about this in the morning. You need rest.”
“I can’t rest. Not now. We owe it to Mom and Jack and Josie’s parents and Archie and Lucas’s parents to find out what really happened. Someone brought down their plane. Someone is covering it up. We need to get down there and—”
“No,” he said, finally sitting up.
“What do you mean, no? You won’t drive to D.C. with me?”
“We’re not going to D.C. We’re not pursuing this. In fact, we’re not gonna speak about it again.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because it’s craziness. A government conspiracy? This is paranoid nutcase talk.”
“It’s not. I could show you documentation. I have minutes from an FAA subcommittee—”
“It’s nonsense. You might as well be claiming they were abducted by aliens. And if you start saying it out loud to people, it’s gonna blow up our whole case.”
“What case?”
He grabbed a glass of water from the table and took a gulp. “I didn’t want to bother you with this because you had enough on your plate with school and ‘The Plan’ and your emotional issues.”
Emotional issues. He spit it out like the words disgusted him.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“We did what any reasonable person would do in this situation. We filed suit against the airline for your mother’s wrongful death. If you want to do some research, look into those numbers. There’s more money at stake than you can imagine.” He started talking about contingencies and precedents and settlements, but I was hung up on the first thing he said. We.
“How is it ‘we’?” I asked.
Pop swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He puffed out his bare chest and advanced toward me aggressively. “You. Me. We. We’re a family. Did you forget that? I had a life somewhere else, but I came all the way back to this place to take care of you. Emotionally and financially. This is a huge opportunity. You do see that, right?”
With every word he sounded less like happy-go-lucky Bobby and more like the guy Mom talked about. He moved in closer, crowding my space. His breath was stale. “You need to get back to sleep, Bud.” Suddenly, even my nickname sounded like a threat. “You’ll think more clearly in the morning.”
I was thinking very clearly. Maybe for the first time in months. That word he used: opportunity. “You haven’t worked since you’ve been here,” I said. “How have you been supporting yourself?”
“What are you asking me?”
“You get takeout for every meal. You go to concerts in the city. You have a new watch and a surfboard.”
“What. Are. You. Asking. Me?”
“Where are you getting your money?”
“Be careful.”
“Where are you getting your money?!”
“This is what she would want. She saved money so that it could be spent on you.”
Maybe I knew it all along, but I didn’t want to see it. “You’ve been taking money from Mom?”
He snorted. “I transferred some so that we could have access.”
“How?”
“Your mother was predictable. She never changed her pass codes.”
“You stole her money.”
“Stole?!” His voice was getting tighter and tighter. “I did it for you. There are bills to pay. Food. Gas money.”
“I pay the bills. I’ve been doing it since the day after the crash. How much have you taken?”
I looked down at my phone and sent a text. Need your help. Please. If you’re awake come to—
“Put that down!” He backed me up a step. “You sound like your mother right now. Okay, yes, I’ve used some of the family money. I’ve taken over the family. There’s nobody else. You’re my son. I’m entitled to—”
“Entitled? Why, because you’ve been here a few months? Because you took me out for some fun? What about the last ten years?”
“Are we really gonna start rehashing this crap? I heard it enough from her. Did you forget what you said at the beach? You were gonna let her go.”
“You said let her go. If I let go of Mom, it’s just me and you and the settlement money. We’d do all those things you were talking about. Travel through Europe, and drive around in a camper, and live in Hawaii. All with my money.”
“This is how you thank me? When I showed up here, you weren’t a teenager. You were a … veal. Your mother kept you in a box and crippled you. For once in your life, you’re actually living. Think about the fun we can have with that money. We can do anything we want.”
“Get out,” I said.
“You want me to go? Now?!”
“I want you out of my house.” I picked up a bag and started throwing his things into it.
He chased me down the stairs and ripped it from my hand. “You think I’m really gonna leave? Just like that? You have no idea what I’ve been through. The dues I’ve paid. I’ve had more disappointments, more shit than you can imagine. This could be a new life. For both of us. Like hell I’m walking away from it.”
The doorbell rang.
Pop looked stunned. “What’d you do, call the police?”
I walked to the door and opened it. Jack stood on the porch, barefoot in basketball shorts and no shirt. He filled the doorframe, his bald head nearly brushing against the porch light.
Pop just looked at me. “You must be shitting me. You called your meathead bodyguard? You need to get your head straight. When I showed up here, you were all alone. Freaking out every five minutes because you didn’t have your mommy to tell you what to do. You want that again?”
I looked to Jack. “I’d like him to go now. He can take the car.”
My father looked tiny next to Jack. “What’re you gonna do, kick my ass if I refuse?”
Jack said nothing.
I handed Pop the bag with his things. “I’m changing all the pass codes and calling the lawyers in the morning.”
“Please, Bud. Don’t do this.” He looked from Jack to me and I saw beneath the anger. I saw the fear and the desperation and the sadness. I actually felt sorry for him.
“It was really good having you here, Pop,” I said. “I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”
He stared at me for a while and then he gave up and shook his head. “I’ll see ya when I see ya, Bud.” And then he was gone.
Jack and I looked at each other for a few seconds. Then he nodded and followed Pop out.
I was alone again.
* * *
I couldn’t make it to D.C. without a car, but I was too wired to lie down. I wrote an email to Jack and Archie and Josie and then I thought twice and added Dayana.
Sunnies,
Michael Boddicker wrote to me. He’s going back to Anguilla to investigate the crash. I think
he’s onto something. I think we should go to D.C. to talk to him.
Nobody wrote back. So I took an Uber to school. I was barely inside when Mackenzie Markowitz sidled up to me, a stack of books pressed against her chest. The lie. The Harvard lie. I’d almost forgotten.
“Didn’t you get my text?” she asked. “I wanted to talk to you about plans for the Visitas in Cambridge. My parents want to leave really early in the morning. Like four A.M. or something inhumane. Since you’re on the other side of town, I thought it might be easier for you to just stay over the night before. You know, in our guest room. We could study or watch a movie together … Or not. It’s totally up to you.”
I did all I could to fight the wave of panic traveling through my body. I could not have a glitch in front of Mackenzie Markowitz. Anyone but her. I looked down at my feet, flexed my hands, and managed to say I’d let her know. Then I raced off to the empty gym, where I closed my eyes and fought it, minute by minute. I recited the digits of pi to forty-seven decimal places before I calmed myself. I wasn’t going to give in. I wasn’t going to let my father be right about me. I could do this without Mom and without him.
I’d never gone deep into a glitch before and been able to stave it off, but this time I managed to keep it at bay, at least for a little while. I listened to the voice in my head. It was my own voice. You can do this, I told myself. You’re the person who won four spelling bees in a row. You single-handedly won Math Olympics as a ninth grader. You kicked your father out of your house. You’re stronger than this.
I made it through the first half of the day through sheer force of will. But just before lunch, I was sitting in AP history when Mr. Herrera delivered a note to my desk. The guidance counselor would like to see me in her office. No other details. She must’ve heard from Harvard. Did she know I’d lied? Was she going to confront me? Or even worse, offer sympathy? Alternatives, other scenarios. Community college. Summer school. As I walked out of the classroom and into the hallway, the glitch overwhelmed me. I could not catch my breath or stop my heart from pounding out of my chest. I was already drenched in sweat and shaking all over my body. Thankfully, the bell had yet to ring, so the hallway was empty. I braced myself against the wall and dragged myself locker by locker to Mr. U’s closet. I struggled with my key, but finally got it unlocked. When the door swung open I stumbled in, kicked the door closed, and lay flat on my back. I heard the bell ring and the hall fill with students on their way to classes or the cafetorium.
The Year They Fell Page 19