by Kasie West
One thing really, his sweatshirt, and it was just a convenient excuse to see him.
“What things? They’re probably mine. He took a lot of my things.”
“They’re not yours. Do you have his address?” I was getting more irritated by the second.
“CPS didn’t tell me. I just know he was going to some group home.”
I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. So he had been sent to a group home over this. Over helping me. “I think you know where that home is, but maybe I should call CPS and let them know about the extra income you grow in your basement.” Did I just say that?
“Are you threatening me, girl?”
Fear snaked up my spine. I’d never done anything like this before, and I was sure it showed on my face, but I was getting desperate. “Yes.”
She mumbled something to herself and slammed the door in my face.
I let out a frustrated growl, then kicked her door. I just needed to walk away and forget about this. Dax got himself into this mess by deviating from the plan. He would be fine. He’d be eighteen soon, and then he could walk away from everyone like he’d always wanted.
I needed to get to the hospital. That’s where my dad had agreed I could go. That’s where I should’ve been. I turned and had just descended the two cracking cement steps toward my car when the door creaked open. The woman threw a crumpled piece of paper at me and immediately shut it again. She locked it as well.
I stared at the paper sitting on the porch next to the doormat shaped like a flower and a tipped-over green plastic watering can. I picked it up, smoothed it flat, and smiled at the address written there. I probably shouldn’t have been so happy about blackmailing information out of someone, but considering the victim, I didn’t feel quite so bad. I’d found him. And he never needed to know how.
CHAPTER 22
The group home caregiver was a tall black man with a pleasant smile, unlike Dax’s last foster parent. He also looked like he’d actually gotten ready that morning versus rolled out of bed. He had the early stages of a beard along his jaw, but his head was as smooth as could be.
“You’re here to see Dax?”
“Yes.”
He looked at his watch. “He’ll have to go over his schedule with you. Now is homework. He has free time after four.”
Dax would hate that, I was sure, his life scheduled to the minute. I checked my phone. It was 3:45. “Do I have to wait or can he get done a little early today since I didn’t know?”
“Just this once. Let me get him.”
“Thanks.” I clutched his sweatshirt in my hand. A moth clung to the wood around the door frame and I watched as it moved its wings without flying.
Dax came to the door, his hair disheveled, wearing a wrinkled tee and some athletic shorts. His feet were bare, and around his wrist was the black bracelet I had tied there.
My tight chest loosened. I wanted to push up the sleeve of my sweater and show him I was still wearing mine, too. I didn’t. I held out his sweatshirt. “Thought I’d return that.”
He took it and I had the strangest urge to grab it back, hold on to it, keep it.
“And my socks?” he asked.
“Oh. Right. I forgot about those. I’ll bring them next time.”
“It’s okay. You can keep them.”
“Did you happen to grab my shoes?” When he looked confused I added, “They were black ankle boot wedges.”
He laughed. “Because that clears things up.”
“You can’t picture them perfectly now?”
“No, I didn’t get them. They’re probably still at the library.”
Right. Still at the library.
Dax stood in the open doorway, as though ready to shut the door without a second thought. I searched my brain for another reason to keep him from doing that.
“So a group home, huh?” was the idiotic solution my brain came up with.
He looked at the door. “Dreams do come true.”
“You were supposed to leave.”
“What?”
“When people came, you were supposed to hide and then leave. It’s what we talked about.”
“You’re mad at me for waiting when you were passed out?”
I realized I was mad. He was here, where he didn’t want to be, and it was all his fault. “Yes. You should’ve left.”
He laughed a little. “Glad you think me capable of leaving a girl passed out on the floor.”
“I would’ve been fine. They would’ve found me. But now everything is a mess and you’re here and you’re miserable.”
“Autumn, stop. No need for guilt. I won’t be here for long.”
I wished I had his ability to read facial expressions, because his was so stoic I couldn’t tell if what he said was the truth.
“But I don’t understand, why would they punish you for helping me?”
“My foster mom said I ran away for the weekend so she wouldn’t get in trouble for kicking me out.”
“My dad didn’t know you were with me. He thought you came with the alarm.”
“I gave minimal information to the police. CPS doled out this awesome punishment.”
I groaned. “This sucks.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“How come you haven’t been at school?”
“I’ve been around.”
“I thought you could sit with us at lunch . . . if you wanted to.”
That was the wrong thing to say. His face went from the Dax I’d come to know, to closed off again. Like I’d pushed a reset button. “I don’t need you to set me up with friends, Autumn. I’m fine.” The hallway behind him was dark and seemed to be swallowing him up. “I better get back to mandatory homework time.”
I didn’t want him to leave feeling like however he now felt. I needed him to stay for just a little bit longer, so I blurted out, “Jeff’s in a coma. They won’t bring him out of it until he’s doing better.”
That stopped his backward movement again. “I’m sorry.”
“His mom thinks I am the key to saving him.”
“What do you mean?”
“She pretended I was his cousin and I sat by him and talked to him and she wants me to come back and do the same thing. Like I have some magic touch or something.” I laughed nervously, surprised I had told him that. “It’s no big deal, though. Maybe I can help.”
“You don’t have to go back, Autumn.”
My shoulders relaxed a notch. “I want to.”
“I hope he gets better.”
“Me too.” I toed the corner of the doormat. “If you ever need a break . . . I have a car.” When he didn’t say anything I added, “You can borrow it or something.” Maybe Dax didn’t want to hang out with my friends, but we were still friends. He was still wearing the bracelet, after all. That had to mean something. And as his friend, I knew things about him, like the fact that he’d need some freedom from this place once in a while. A car helped with that.
“Borrow your car? I’m sure your parents would love that.”
“They’d be cool with it.” They would not be cool with it.
“I don’t need your car, but thanks.” He moved his hand up on the door, his expression seeming to ask if I was done with my outbursts yet.
I bit my lip. “Okay . . . well . . . good luck with everything.”
“You too.”
I took a step backward. “Bye, Dax.”
“Bye.”
He shut the door and that was it.
I started to leave but then hesitated, thinking I’d left something, my arms felt empty, but then I remembered it was just his sweatshirt so I hopped off the porch and drove away. Maybe that bracelet didn’t mean anything, after all. Dax didn’t need my friendship. He didn’t need anything. Now that I saw that, I could stop worrying about him.
CHAPTER 23
My dad was sitting on the couch matching socks when I came in the door. The television was on (which explained why the task was taking him so long) a
nd he paused it to say, “How was the hospital?”
“I didn’t end up going. I dropped off that sweatshirt instead.” That wasn’t a lie, even though I knew he would assume I went to the library.
“Oh good. Dax. His name is Dax.” He searched the pile of socks on the coffee table for the right one.
“What?”
“The police told me who the boy who helped you was. I wrote him a letter that they said they’d send to him for us.”
“That’s great.”
He held up a finger as if he just thought of an idea. “Did you want to add anything to it?”
“The letter?”
“Yes.”
I smiled, thinking that could be funny. “Sure, Dad.”
He swept the socks off his lap and onto the cushion next to him, then led the way into the kitchen, where he took a folded sheet of paper out of an envelope. I read through the words, which mainly talked about how grateful he was that Dax heard the alarm and came to help me. How this act let him know Dax had a strong character. I picked up the black pen on the counter and added the words, My hero then signed my name.
My dad read it, a crease forming between his brows. “That doesn’t seem very sincere.”
“It is.”
He folded up the letter and stuffed it back in the envelope.
I wondered if I should’ve added more. My words were supposed to be funny, but they sounded bitter. I was still angry with him for getting caught, I realized, for brushing me off at the house, and at school for that matter, for being able to close the door so easily.
“I have some photo homework to do. Can I go down to the park for a little bit?”
“Sure.”
In my room, I slung my camera bag over my shoulder, grabbed my jacket and scarf, and headed to the garage for my bike. When I was shooting outdoors, it was so much easier to travel on my bike than in the car.
I stopped at the park up the street. Even with snow still on the ground, it was full of bundled-up kids. I dropped my bike by the racks, traipsed through the slush, and found a group of bare trees.
As I brought my camera up to my eye, I let out a sigh. It had been too long since I’d looked at the world through the lens. It helped clarify things for me, straighten out my thinking. Looking at the harsh angles of the bare tree, its background bleak, I knew I was letting my life get blurry. I needed to focus on what mattered—Jeff.
Lisa didn’t go to the hospital with me this time, and as I walked into the lobby I wondered if it was a mistake to go alone. It was too late to change my mind now—Mrs. Matson had just caught my eye across the room. She jumped up faster than I thought possible, stopping mid-sentence with the lady next to her to race toward me.
“Autumn! I’m so happy you’re back. The best thing happened after you left the other day! He squeezed my hand.”
“He’s awake?”
“No, not awake yet, but that’s the first time there was a sign that there is that possibility.”
“That’s great.”
“It was you.”
I stared at her for a long moment before I said, “No. It was your hand he squeezed. I’m sure it was you. He didn’t move at all for me.”
“I’d been here days and nothing. You were here minutes and . . .” She trailed off and hugged me. “You are like a miracle. You came back from the dead and now you’re here to share the good karma.”
“I wasn’t dead.”
She ignored my statement. “They’re going to stop the medicine that’s keeping him under now. See if he’ll wake up.”
“They are? That’s amazing.”
“When he wakes up they’ll be able to assess things more. See the extent of his injuries. Come on. You need to see him.”
His eyes were less swollen today, although now that the swelling was down I could see the discoloration around them more clearly. Just like the other day, she left me in the room with him. I sat down, and it was like my body remembered exactly how it was supposed to act in here because it was immediately back on high alert. Stop it, I told my body. You’re fine. Look where he is.
“Hey, Jeff. What have you been up to?” I smiled. “I know, my jokes are getting lamer.” I put my hand on his arm again. “I bet you’re so bored. I mean, if you are aware at all. I should read to you or something. Is that what is customary when a friend is in your situation? It seems like that always happens in the movies. What would you even like to read? I don’t think I know that about you.” If I were honest, I didn’t know that many meaningful things about Jeff. I mean, I knew the same things everyone else who hung out with him knew—he liked baseball and practical jokes and was very smart—but it wasn’t like we’d ever had a deep conversation.
“Maybe I should ask your mom if you have a journal. I could read that to you. Unless you want to object. No?” I sighed. “Sorry, they really are getting lamer.”
I looked back over my shoulder, toward the door. It had been a couple of minutes. I was surprised his mom hadn’t come in to tell me that time was up yet. This was all the time I had gotten before. Maybe longer visits had been approved in the last forty-eight hours. Because he squeezed a hand. I stared at his hand for a moment and then placed my palm beneath it. “Jeff? Can you hear me?” I closed my hand around his, then held my breath as I waited to feel something back.
Nothing.
“There’s a basketball game tonight,” I told him. “Lisa and everyone went. They said to say hi. I’m supposed to go over there after this.”
I traced the red nurses’-call button on the side of his bed with my finger. “Remember when you wanted to try out for mascot and you got that threatening ‘anonymous’ letter that we all knew was from last year’s mascot? And then you walked around telling everyone that you were still going to try out even though it was now life or death for you.” I laughed. “That was nice of you not to in the end. Did you even really want to or had it always been a joke?” These were the kinds of things I should’ve asked him before. The kinds of things that didn’t seem important but now that I was thinking about them, actually would’ve told me a lot about who he was . . . is. These were the things I was going to ask him when he woke up. Why hadn’t I asked him these questions before? I was interested in him. Shouldn’t I have wanted to know everything about him?
“I don’t think I’d want to be a mascot. I’d be too self-conscious in front of everyone like that. You’d make a good timber wolf, though, because I’m pretty sure you love to be the center of attention. And you never seem to worry what anyone thinks. I wonder if the costume is super hot. I’d get claustrophobic. Did you know that about me, that I get panicky in small places? Where don’t I get panicky, though, right?”
That was the closest I’d come to telling my friends about my anxiety. I rolled my eyes. “You can’t count that as telling him, Autumn. He’s in a coma,” I mumbled under my breath.
My stomach let out a large growl and I covered it. My phone said it was seven. I let my eyes wander around, take in each machine, the white walls, the ticking clock. My stomach growled again, so I stood. “I’ll see you Monday, Jeff.”
I sent a quick text to his mom. Yes, I was avoiding her. She would want a progress report and I hated having nothing good to tell her. Mostly, though, I just needed to get out of there.
CHAPTER 24
The music was too loud when I started my car, and it made me jump. I quickly turned it down and drove out of the parking lot and toward the school. Just the thought of the basketball game made my insides twist. I didn’t want to go. It was going to be loud and crowded and overwhelming. I didn’t know if I could handle that right after leaving the hospital. But I told my friends I would, so I knew I had to. I could always leave later.
By the time I arrived at the game it was more than half over. I found Lisa, Avi, and Morgan in the middle of the bleachers, their cheeks painted with a red number 4.
I laughed. “You are all supporting Wyatt? How is he going to choose between you?” Wyatt was the
star of the basketball team. I’d taken his picture for yearbook, but outside of that we’d only interacted minimally.
“We’ll share,” Avi said right before standing up and screaming as our team scored two points.
I tried to get into the game, but the gym felt extra packed tonight and louder than usual. It made my chest vibrate and my eyes water.
“You okay?” Lisa asked next to my ear.
I had put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. “Yes,” I said. “I’m just worried about Jeff.”
“Let me know if worrying works and I’ll jump on board.”
I smiled over at her. “Sometimes I feel like it will.”
She put her hand on my back. “Just think about the milk shakes we’ll be drinking in thirty minutes. Those are the answer to every problem.”
Maybe milk shakes were the answer to every problem, because the second we stepped inside Iceberg, things seemed much better. Quieter at least. I ordered a large chocolate shake and fries. As I sat down with my order, I remembered this was a meal Dax and I had talked about eating upon our escape.
“Why are you smiling?” Lisa asked, sitting down next to me in the booth.
“Because this is excellent.”
“Isn’t it?”
I hadn’t had the chance to talk to Lisa about Dax yet, but I could now. After all, the worst had already happened: Dax was in a group home. Me telling Lisa wouldn’t change anything now. “And . . .”
“And what?”
“At the library—”
“Dax Miller,” she said.
“What? How did you . . .” I stopped when I saw her looking at the door.
My eyes immediately followed her gaze to where Dax and a couple of other people were walking to the counter. My heart skipped a beat.
“Who’s he with?” Lisa asked. “I’ve never seen him with anyone. Is that his dad? His dad is black?”
“Does Dax look black to you?”
“Maybe he’s adopted, or half. You never know.”
“It’s his foster dad.” Or group home dad, I wasn’t sure what his official title was, but it was the man who had answered the door and gotten Dax for me when I went to his house the other day. He was talking to the cashier, then handing over his credit card.