August 30
Dear Kitty,
Today has been pretty amazing. I’m still in shock over everything. I didn’t feel too sick this morning, and I had a little more energy. I could tell Mom was happy about that, but I knew something was up when she grabbed a pair of scissors and messed with my hair after she helped me wash it this morning—and when Dad insisted on helping me into jeans and an ironed shirt. And when Alex and Sam hung around all day as if they thought Santa was going to show up early this year. And I was right—something major was going on. Maybe Santa didn’t show up, but someone—actually, some people—did. Believe it or not, the whole football team showed up, and so did this year’s student body officers! Even Kelly made an appearance, looking scared and nervous. To say the least, I was surprised and in shock.
Once everyone was in the house, someone asked if it was okay to watch a video, so Alex shoved a videotape into the VCR that Mike, the student body pres, handed to him. And then I finally figured out what everyone was freaking out about.
The video was a taping of an assembly in the school’s auditorium that happened at school today. It had the usual “welcome back to school” skits that weren’t very funny, a slide show to some pop music of school scenes and events, then a dance by the drill team, and then a major pep rally by the cheerleaders. After the cheerleaders jogged off the stage, Mike got up on the stage and talked about somebody who’d been a great student, a great friend, and a great addition to the school, etc. and etc.—someone who’d shown true courage and hope. Imagine my surprise to discover the person he was babbling about was me!
The team had the award with them that Mike held up on the video: a big, shiny plaque with my name on it and some fancy words about how wonderful I was. They’re planning on putting the plaque with my picture in the trophy case by the trophy we got for winning state last year. Pretty big deal type of thing. Once all the clapping and cheering on the tape quieted down, Mike went on about how amazing I was as a football player and stunned me by announcing the school’s going to retire my number. More cheering and clapping happened after that. My home team jersey’s going to be hung in the trophy case, too. I’m still in shock.
Mom was crying. Sam and Alex were crying. Even Dad cried. Everyone in our living room cheered and clapped like crazy. On the video, Mike asked Alex if he would come forward to accept the award plaque for me, and while Alex was still on stage with Mike and my award, Kelly joined them. He put his two cents in and said some more fancy words about me before announcing that the team had unanimously agreed to dedicate the football season to—me.
Everyone on the video and in the living room with me cheered again. Even you squealed and clapped. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. And Kelly—he was staring at me in an embarrassed, hopeful, and sad sort of way. That really got to me. Kelly’s the most amazing friend I’ve ever had, Kitty. I can’t deny that. I was doing a lot of bawling, so after a while, everything was too blurry for me to see anything very clearly anymore . . .
August 31
Dear Kitty,
Yesterday was quite a day. My mind is still numb from it all. Once I was able to make my mouth work, I had Alex borrow a video camera from a neighbor and taped a thank-you from me to the school and the team. I tried to make the video amusing, so of course, everyone said I did great. I saved up my strength so I could give everyone who came a slug in the arm or a hug for bringing about all of that school attention. It really wasn’t necessary. Still, it’s always nice to know you’re cared about and missed . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I’d arrived at school early and spent the minutes before home room started by staring at Brett’s face grinning at me from the trophy case. I could feel that strange connection I’d felt so many times before and took a step closer and reached towards him—
“Hey, you.”
I jumped when I heard Jason’s voice whisper near my ear and felt his hand slip around my waist. For a great big football player with a leg brace on, he had the most uncanny and unique ability to sneak up on me. “Hey, yourself.” I grinned back and quickly hoisted my book bag from the floor and onto my shoulder before letting him take my hand. “Ready for class?”
Jason looked from me to Brett’s picture. “Is everything okay?”
I smiled. “If you’re still planning on taking me to the dance tomorrow night, then everything’s more than okay. Unless you’re planning on flaking on me. In which case I’d have to hunt you down like a dog and hurt your other leg.”
Jason laughed as we walked away from the trophy case towards Honors English. “I didn’t realize you had such a violent streak in you, Kathy.”
I grinned. “Just consider it extra incentive to get yourself to my house tomorrow night.”
~
September 10
Dear Kitty,
My head and heart are full of so many things. Memories keep flooding my mind. Like winning state—last Christmas—the day you were born—the first day of school—learning to ride a bike—all kinds of moments keep coming to me as clear as if they happened yesterday. And hugging—I can’t seem to get enough of it lately. I’ve been hugging everyone like crazy.
I’m not leaving the planet this close to Christmas without giving everyone a little something, so with help from my good ol’ tutor, Matt, I ordered a gold heart locket for Mom. I’m giving my music collection to Alex, but I saved the Beatles for you. I can’t decide whether or not I should give everyone my Christmas gifts now while I’m still around. I wish I could be here for Christmas. I’m really going to miss being with everyone this year.
I have to apologize for scaring you and making you cry last night, Kitty. It was a bad night for me—one of the worst I’ve had in a long time, filled with lots of bad dreams that had me thrashing around in bed like a fish out of water. And I was sick—so sick—and something or someone was pressing down hard on my arms. I woke up blinded by the lamp on my nightstand, puking all over the place. Mostly all over Dad, who’d been watching me sleep again and was trying to keep me from falling out of bed. Even though I’d puked all over his shirt, he wouldn’t leave my side until I’d calmed down and stopped crying and saying, “I’m sorry.” He kept saying that it was okay while he held me and rocked me. You sat up in your crib and watched with big, scared eyes, whimpering softly and clutching Tiny Bear. After all three of us calmed down, Dad got rid of his shirt and helped me change into clean sweats. He even changed my sheets with me in the bed. I have no idea how he figured out how to do that. I asked him to stay with me until I fell asleep, so he sat back down in his chair by my bed and held my hand, and even though I was pretty exhausted and weak, I talked his ear off, telling him I was sorry I hadn’t been a better son, and that I was sorry I hadn’t been more like Alex so we could’ve been closer. That choked him up, and he told me I had nothing to be sorry for, and that he was sorry for not being a better father to me. I told him—begged him—to make sure he had a great relationship with you—the kind I’d always wished I’d had with him. And to make sure you were happy and would always know that you were loved. I made him promise again and again. And then he told me he loved me, and I told him I loved him. I honestly don’t remember us ever doing that before. I’m truly sorry it’s taken me getting sick to get everyone saying the words “I love you.” It shouldn’t be like that, Kitty. You should tell your family all the time that you love them. Everyone should know they’re loved by everyone else all the time. It may seem crazy and uncool to go around saying, “I love you,” but if there’s yet another thing I’ve learned from my sickness, it’s that it’s even more uncool not to make sure your family knows you love them.
We talked for a long time. It was all highly emotional, personal stuff. I wish we’d talked like this a long time ago. We’re barely starting to get to know each other—and like each other—and I won’t be around to enjoy it. I really hate that . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Knock, knock—anybody home?”
/> I’d been home alone and in my room most of the evening, but at the sound of a voice in the house, I quickly slid Brett’s
journal under my bed and hurried down the hall to find Alex standing in the living room studying a picture in his hands from the bookshelves.
“So, what are you doing here? Where’s Julie?”
Alex jumped and quickly shoved the picture back on the shelf. “At home. Dad said I could borrow that folding table downstairs.” But instead of heading downstairs, Alex headed straight for the kitchen and the refrigerator.
I walked over to the pictures to see which one Alex had been holding and had to catch my breath. Alex, Brett—and Kelly. The Football Heroes picture. My mind raced as I stared at the picture, and with my heart pounding faster and faster, I took a deep breath and followed Alex into the kitchen. This was it. I knew it could possibly be my one and only chance to talk to Alex alone, and I needed to ask him—to talk to him.
Everyone thought that since Alex and I never fought, we must have had a great relationship. Compared to Sam and me, I guess we did, but we never talked about anything serious. Ever. I didn’t know if that really counted as a relationship. Right at that moment, for the first time in my life, I was wishing that we had something more solid. More of a real brother-sister-slash-friend relationship. It would’ve made everything I needed to talk with him about so much easier.
I waited until we’d both filled our glasses with water from the faucet before asking. “Alex, whatever happened to your friend Kelly Baxter from high school?”
Alex was quiet for a second. He wouldn’t even look at me but studied his glass of water instead. “I don’t have a friend named Kelly Baxter.”
I sighed. “Well, then—Brett’s friend.”
Alex took a swallow of his water. “Why do you want to know anything about him?”
“I’m curious. That’s all,” I said lamely. “I mean—it’s just strange to me. You and Brett were friends with him, and yet I’ve never even seen a Christmas card from him. He’s never come for a visit, and he’s never called. Unless he’s called or visited just you at your house.”
“No, he hasn’t done either.” Alex’s voice was flat and cold.
I moved a step closer to him. “Why is that? Doesn’t that seem strange to you, too? Why doesn’t anyone know what happened to him after high school? After Brett—died?”
Alex set his glass down firmly and turned to face me without a smile on his face, and with a look that made me feel like I’d done something wrong. “What’s strange to me is that you’re asking about Kelly, of all people. Why do you even care?”
Why did I care?! “This whole family has acted like I ought to be stoned to death because I didn’t feel like hearing about Brett every second of my life! But now that I actually care to ask a few questions, everyone’s all suspicious and acts like I’m asking for top secret information!”
Alex shook his head and pointed at me accusingly. “You’re not asking questions about Brett, though—you’re asking questions about Kelly Baxter. Why do you think you need to know anything about him?”
“Why won’t you tell me?” I shot back.
“Because there’s no reason for you to be worrying about him!”
I couldn’t believe Alex and I were actually yelling at each other. It was as strange as the fact that Sam and I were getting along. But Alex wasn’t the only person who could give me answers. “Fine! If you won’t talk to me, then I’ll ask Kelly instead!” I turned sharp on my heel to run out of the kitchen, but Alex reached out fast, and in one quick swipe he had my arm in his grip, yanking me back to where I’d been standing in front of him.
“Kathy—stop!” Alex and I stared at each other for a moment before he loosened his hold on me and took a deep breath of his own. “Look—it’s not as big a deal as you think. Kelly got a football scholarship out of state, and we just sort of—fell out of touch. That’s all, okay?”
I folded my arms. “‘That’s all?’ I don’t believe ‘that’s all.’ That may explain why you’re not as close anymore, but it doesn’t explain why no one wants to talk about him. I’ve tried asking Mom, but all she does is act as weird as you’re acting right now.”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Kathy. Kelly went away to school, and I got busy, too. And like I said, he was Brett’s friend, not mine. Your life just gets crazier and busier after high school, and you don’t have time for every person you’ve ever known in your life, let alone your brother’s life. You’ll see for yourself in a couple of years.”
“There’s more you’re not telling me—I just know it—”
But Alex didn’t want to talk anymore and cut me off firmly. Almost angrily. “Believe what you want to believe, Kathy, but I need to get that table and get back home.”
So much for answers. I mutely followed Alex down to the basement and helped him lug the table up and into his car. Alex practically ran to slide behind the wheel and slam the door shut, but while he revved up the engine, I wrenched open the passenger door before he could lock it and climbed in, slamming the car door shut before facing his angry scowl. I tried again to get him to talk about Kelly—I hated to have to do it to him, but I didn’t know when I’d get a chance to talk to him alone again. And it was important—so important to me. I only wished I could make Alex understand. And so, after I laid all of this on him, Alex sighed long and deep—almost painfully—before he glanced at me, and then he turned to squint out the windshield with his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel.
“When you’re a teenager—a kid—you do a lot of dumb, stupid things, not realizing that those few seconds can affect the rest of your life for good.” His voice was soft and had a sad, far away texture to it that matched the look in his eyes. “When Brett died, I needed someone to blame for—everything. I hated hurting, and I guess I thought blaming Kelly for some of that pain would make it all go away. I thought forcing Kelly out of all of our lives would help, but it didn’t. The pain is still there. Even after all of this time.”
We sat in silence for a long moment before I dared to speak. “What happened?” Alex remained unmoving, staring silently ahead for so long that I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.
“Kelly didn’t come around much towards the end—mostly because Brett wouldn’t see him, I guess. I couldn’t understand that, since he was Brett’s best friend, but I guess it must’ve been hard for him to watch Brett die, too.” Alex stopped for a moment and sighed. “And then, there was the mess with that girl Brett liked.”
Jennifer! “A girl?” I whispered.
Alex nodded. “Yeah. Brett really liked this girl in high school. And she liked him for a while, until she met Kelly. It made me angry to see Brett hurting over the whole mess.” Alex laughed bitterly. “It all seems so stupid now, but like I said, teenagers can let little things become big things and get melodramatic over just about anything.” Alex turned and glanced briefly at me. “No offense, of course.”
I nodded dully. “So you hate Kelly because of a girl he and Brett both liked?”
“I never said I hated Kelly,” Alex said firmly. “But it was more than just the girl. I couldn’t stand the fact that Kelly was filling Brett’s head with a bunch of mumbo-jumbo about his crazy religion. It really drove Mom and Dad crazy, too. Especially Mom.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“It was hard enough having to watch her son die a little bit more every day, but it was adding insult to injury to have her son’s best friend taking what little time he had left and getting him all wound up about his religion and reading his Mormon Bible instead of helping him to relax and feel calm and loved and ready to let go when the time came. He had Brett thinking he needed to convert, which scared us all. The painkillers he was on would’ve made him a little crazy anyway, but those last couple of weeks especially, he was constantly freaking out—babbling about finding the truth and needing to be baptized before he died, and needing to talk to Kelly about it. It really
upset Mom and Dad. All of us, actually. I knew he was probably just hallucinating big time, since he was so close to the end, but he never stopped talking about wanting to be baptized. He used to beg me to help him—to talk to Mom and Dad. He also begged me to read that crazy Mormon Bible—”
Alex stopped and I waited for him to go on, not daring to move a muscle. His voice was so low and quiet when he spoke again that I had to strain my ears to catch each word. “The day after Brett’s funeral, I was home alone when Kelly came over. I’d been in Brett’s room and found that Book of Mormon of his. Just looking at Kelly, thinking about the stuff Brett raved about at the end, and missing Brett so bad like I did, and knowing he wasn’t coming back—I don’t know—something inside me snapped. The next thing I knew I was yelling and screaming and swearing at Kelly about everything, including the girl and the religious stuff he’d filled Brett’s head with. I told him I wanted him to get out and stay away forever. And I shoved the Book of Mormon at him and told him to take his crazy religion with him, since all it had done was to make Brett freak out, and so the rest of us had suffered, too, having to watch him suffer. As if having leukemia wasn’t enough.” Alex stopped, his voice catching in the back of his throat. “No matter how long I live, I’ll never be able to forget the look on Kelly’s face—the hurt—all of that sadness and pain. Tears were all welled up in his eyes—I couldn’t stand it, so I turned away and told him not to come around our house anymore. And I shut the door in his face. So he left.” Alex’s hands were trembling as he gripped the steering wheel. I blinked hard over and over while Alex wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Mom and Dad wondered at first why Kelly never came around after Brett died, but then he left for college, and Sam was getting back into school, and soon they stopped asking about him. But I never told anybody what happened that day. Until now. Until you,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He tried to give me a weak smile. “When I finally started college, I thought about trying out for football. Got really close to almost doing it, but the idea of playing without Brett—I don’t know—I just couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be the same without him there.”
The Secret Journal of Brett Colton Page 24