by Stacie Ramey
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Livy says. “I’ll be right back.”
That gives Emily time to approach me. Though I wouldn’t recommend it now. She puts her hand on my arm, and I swear, it feels like it’s burning me. “I wanted to be here for you. I hope it’s OK.”
I don’t answer.
“I’m sorry I got so mad. I…I just got scared…you know?”
“Maybe you could take Livy home. I’m going to wait here for Dad.”
Emily’s quiet, which makes me a little glad. Like I am stronger than she is. Like this proves I don’t need her. She’s nothing to me.
Her face turns stony, and she gets up. I hear her whispering something about pizza to Livy, who looks at me.
“You go. I’ll be home soon.”
Emily puts her arm around Livy’s shoulder, and I almost wish she’d look back, but I know by the fierceness of her stride that Emily is pretty pissed at me. Whatever. She’s not the only one. Livy does turn to wave, and I smile so she’ll know I’m all right. Then they slip away, and I’m alone again.
The sound of the automatic doors opening and closing kills me. It’s all I can do to not lose it. Mom and Dad walked me into the lobby through those doors all those years ago, after Ryan’s first accident. I remember how scared I was when we went into the elevator that took us to Ryan’s floor.
The nurses knew Mom and Dad, but they didn’t know me. They smiled at me, but that was just because they didn’t know Ryan’s accident was my fault. I didn’t want to go in the room, but I had to.
Ryan was in the bed, tubes everywhere. Dad held my hand, but it was Mom I focused on. I could feel the breath she was holding, like she’d raised the drawbridge on one of those castles Ryan and I built together, trapping the breath inside her. Almost like she thought that not breathing would make the accident not true.
I held my breath right along with hers. My eyes closed, and I pretended we were in the backyard playing baseball or tag or whatever Ryan wanted to play. I wasn’t even angry that he was winning or that he was better than I was. In my mind, I was just happy, and I believed for a second that that vision was real. That if I were good for the rest of my life, my brother would come back.
But then Dad spoke, and my eyes opened and so did Ryan’s. Only his were different. They looked like big marbles more than eyes, and even though they were open, he didn’t look like he was seeing anyone or anything.
Mom leaned over Ryan and squeezed his hand. “Ryan, baby. It’s Mommy. Do you see Mommy?”
Ryan didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look at them. It was as if he didn’t see. And I knew there was nothing I could ever do to fix this.
Tears ran down Mom’s face, and I could practically taste the salt of her tears in my mouth. Like her pain was stronger, more deserved than my own. I didn’t deserve my own pain. Just my guilt.
She backed away from Ryan, grabbed my shoulders. I thought she was going to yell at me, but she just pushed me in front of him. “Say hi to Ryan, John. Say hi to your brother.”
I tried to stare at his eyes only. I tried to make him see me, but then I saw the big cut they’d sewn up on his forehead and his big unseeing eyes scared me, and I pulled away. I ran like the coward I was. I ran as fast as I could, as far as I could.
I come back to the here and now, only I wish I could disappear. I’m a body full of ache and pain and need. Only there’s no word for what I need. There’s no language. I am a wild beast. I put my head in my hands. My face is wet. My eyes close. I wait to die. I want to die. I pray to die so this will end. Finally. Leah’s words come back to me. Truer than ever.
We’re like the water, beating ourselves against the rocks. Why do we do that?
Chapter 24
It doesn’t take long for the rumors to start flying around school. Brandon and Parker act like my bodyguards for most of the day. Even Matt takes point. At least that’s what it feels like, because one of them is always next to me. It would be kind of touching if it wasn’t all so surreal.
Their presence doesn’t keep kids from staring at me. Or talking. I hear them whisper, and it puts my dragon on high alert, ready for a fight. Between me freaking out at the awards thing the other night and then Mom crashing the car, Ryan not being properly restrained, we are definitely feeding the news cycle. Me fighting is exactly the wrong kind of press my family needs right now, so I try to keep as calm as I can. I pretend I am on that beach. I pretend I am with Emily, and she’s not mad at me, and I’m not acting like an asshole. I pretend I let her quiet concern wash over me like the waves of the Pacific Ocean. I make it all the way through the day, and finally, it’s time for our scrimmage, and I feel almost too calm. Because on that lacrosse field, they expect me to be all beast, and I am happy to oblige.
The smell of the field and the crowd standing on the sidelines are all I need to get pumped. As soon as my cleats hit the grass, I start to feel normal again. I start to breathe. That’s what I’m here for. Forty-eight minutes of regulation, where nobody has the time to ask me if I think Mom meant to hurt Ryan, the newest rumor to hit the mill today, served up by Dominique in the hallway, her faking concern the whole time, me trying hard not to strangle her.
Coach Gibson has everyone pulled in close to him. Pregame pep talk. “Parkland’s a good team. We need to be sharp. Make no mistakes.”
Mistakes. As if any of the mistakes we make on this field could compare to the ones I’ve made off the field. Why didn’t I answer Mom’s call yesterday? Why do I keep screwing everything up?
“John.” Coach’s eyes take me in. “Are you sure you want to be here?”
“Big game, Coach. Bragging rights, right?”
“OK, Parker, Brandon, Luke…” He rattles off names, none of which are mine. They take the field, leaving me and my problems behind.
“You don’t think you should be home with your family?” Coach shakes his head, looks on, and checks his clipboard. I know he’s worried about this game. And I know he wants me in. After what Parkland did to us last time and how I’ve become a monster player for the team, he’s already doing the math, figuring how much I can contribute. We both need this.
“Ryan’s fine. So is Mom. Both will be home tomorrow,” I say. “They don’t need me. Not like you do.”
He looks me over, shakes his head, and finally nods. “OK, but you gotta play clean. I know these refs. They’re like a bunch of forty-year-old ladies pissed ’cause they still have their periods.”
I put on my helmet, showing him I’m ready for battle. “What the eff, Johnson,” I call, campaigning to get my start. “Chase him down.”
“Wake up, Walker. Don’t let him by you. Slide, slide!” Then to me. “You go in next.”
They score. Play is stopped. Coach waves Johnson in.
“You’re in, John.” He claps me on the back.
And just like that, the last three days of pain fade to black. I’m not Ryan’s brother, the one who always screwed up. The one who Emily’s pissed at. The one who lost Leah.
I’m just a machine. I run, I hit, I throw. I don’t feel. Feeling’s not part of the game.
“John!” Matt waves his stick at me as I take my position at midfield. I nod back.
We take the first face-off, the ball gets caught on the ground.
“Ball, ball, ball,” Matt yells.
I’m already there, elbows and stick pushing people out of the way. With the ball cradled, I turn and crash into Wesley Turner from Parkland. He tries to stand up against me. Stupid today. I leave him on the ground, like the ball was a few minutes ago. Faces blur as I make my way down the field. I stand and shoot, side-armed. Wide right. Just. Matt races for the ball, stick out. We get it back.
Brandon takes it in.
Brandon passes it to Matt. Wesley’s on my back, trying to stay with me. I roll and leave him behind. The ball barely in my stick, I f
ire a bounce shot into the far-left corner. The goalie shifts but not in time. Score.
I run to my place on the right side of the field. Wesley lines up against me.
“Pretty good shot, Strickland,” he says. “But you’re not gonna get another chance.”
“Whatever,” I say. I’m not much for smack talk. Don’t really see the point.
Waiting for Parker to take the face-off makes me nervous, gives me time to think.
Images invade my mind. Ryan in our driveway years ago after he got hit. I blink. See the blood spilling out of his head. I blink again. Sweat leaks into my eyes and forces them closed. I see Mom getting into the ambulance and leaving me and Livy. Not looking back.
We lose the face-off. I chase Wesley down after he takes the pass. My stick hits his, and he drops the ball. I push him off and root around on the ground. I’m surrounded by bodies and sticks. Everyone’s digging for gold. Matt comes up with it, and we race downfield. The running helps me push everything out of my mind. I feel the animal inside me breathe fire.
Fourth quarter, we’re down five to four. “Hey, Strickland, too bad about your brother, but since he’s already a retard, can you even hurt him?” Nate, defenseman from Parkland, calls out to me.
Fire explodes in my head. When the ball’s in play, I cross the field and knock him to the ground. Don’t even try to make it look clean. Ref calls a penalty. Two-minute personal foul. I look over at Nate as I walk to the sideline. He gets up smiling.
Coach shakes his head. “Settle down, John,” he says.
As I kneel next to the scoring table to do my time, I see Mike Wexler on the sidelines and get a bad feeling. He and Coach are looking at me and talking. I push them out of my mind. My eyes on Nate. I count down till I can get back in and get back on him.
I jog onto the field. Matt comes up to me. “Take the face-off,” he says.
I know what he’s trying to do. He wants me away from Nate. Wesley comes forward.
I’ll be facing off against him.
“I’m sorry, man. He’s an asshole,” Wesley says.
I agree, but I don’t need his charity. I grit my teeth and get ready to battle. The whistle blows, and I’m up and away. Not even going after the ball. Nate wanted it to be personal, and I’m happy to oblige, even if that makes Mr. Wexler pissed off enough to give me a violation. Once you wake the dragon, there’s no leashing him.
I turn, watch Wesley speed by me, and look for my prey. I’m three steps from him, can feel myself hurling into him, but stop as Matt lays out Nate. Ref calls a penalty. Another two minutes. Matt nods to me as he runs off the field. I hear the crowd groan as they score: six-four.
Next play, Brandon lines up against him. I lose him as the face-off becomes a huddle. When I make it past the traffic, I see Brandon take him down. They score. Nate is dizzy, and his coach pulls him out.
Ref comes on the field, whistle blowing. They have a conference, and both coaches go on the field. Brandon is ejected, and our team is given a warning. Next penalty will mean suspensions. We wanted this game. But semper fi.
Coach calls us off the field as the clock hits zero. He waves off the good sportsmanship handshake bullshit. The vein in his neck is bulging, and his face is beet red.
“Next time you guys pull shit like that, I’ll sit you all down. I’ll let the girls’ field hockey team play for you, you ever get wild like that again.”
“Coach, you should’ve heard…” Matt tries.
Coach’s hand goes up. “Don’t wanna hear it. John’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you guys to go vigilante for him. Do you, John?”
He’s right. I should’ve left it alone. Nate got a cheap win. And a concussion probably. That thought makes me smile.
“OK, you guys, come to practice ready to run tomorrow, because nothing beats a bad attitude like running it out of you. Everyone hit the showers, except John. You stay here.”
Matt claps me on the back. “Later, man.”
“Thanks.” I grab his hand, and we bump chests.
“All for one,” Brandon says.
Coach shakes his head.
“Sorry, Coach,” I start.
“Save it.” Both of his hands go up like stop signs. “I didn’t keep you back so we can get our love on.”
“No?”
“This man says he’s got business with you.” Coach motions to Mr. Wexler, who’s sitting on the bench, a stupid smile on his face.
“You came to watch me get all beast?”
“Not exactly. I did come to see how you are.”
“I’m good. Great. You saw.” I point to the field as proof, then walk back to the bench and start getting my gear.
“Look, John, we need to settle a few things.”
“I’m good.” I turn and start walking.
“I don’t want…”
I stop and turn to face him. “I am not your little brother.”
“What?”
“Whatever happened to him, saving me won’t save him.”
Direct hit. Mr. Wexler’s face turns purple, but he keeps talking. “Right now, I’m asking. But at some point, this will stop being voluntary.”
The animal inside me growls. He hates this shit. “Look, I’m not going to use. You happy?”
“I want to help you come up with a plan. Anyone who could get an entire team to give up a game against a big rival for you, that’s pretty impressive.”
“That?” I laugh. “That was stupid guy shit. And it was just a scrimmage. We’ll tear their asses up during the regular season.”
“I’d like to know what there is about you that inspires such loyalty.”
“What can I say?” I spread my arms wide and start to walk backward toward the locker room. “I’m easy to love.”
“So why don’t you try loving yourself a little?”
I hike my gear bag higher up on my shoulder. “Can you cut the psychobabble act for two seconds? I have a therapist, and Steve is going to get super jealous if you don’t back the fuck off me.”
He speed-walks and gets in front of me, blocks my way. “You need to know something.”
“I don’t…”
“I’m trying to warn you.”
“Warn me?”
“DCF is investigating the accident.”
The words are so frightening, they can’t be real. Department of Children and Families. Crap. DCF. DCF was the reason Mom kicked me out the first time. Not again. It can’t be. The sounds of me smashing her furniture, her china, vases. Me doing all that so they would see I was the problem. So Livy could stay.
Mr. Wexler’s eyes go to Livy standing with Emily and some of the girl lacrosse players who are hanging, talking with Brandon and Parker. “You want to protect her, right?”
I stand numb. Stupid.
“I’ll do my best to keep her out of it, but I need you to come in. And now I need to test you for real. I can’t get out of it. I can give you till Friday, but that’s all I can do.”
I nod.
“Your mom will be cleared, I’m sure, but they’ll want to see that you’re clean also. You understand?”
“Yeah.”
He walks away, and I want to leave my body. Would Friday be long enough?
“John, wait.” I soften at my little sister’s voice. Livy.
“Who was that?” Emily asks, even though she knows she doesn’t have the right anymore, and I answer her, though I don’t know why.
“My probation officer.” I reach down and hold Livy’s hand.
“What’s up?”
“No big. They want me to come in and talk. It’s a good thing,” I add.
“What if they want to talk to me too?”
“They won’t. But if they do, just tell the truth. Mom would never hurt us.” I put my arm around Livy’s shoulder.
&n
bsp; “I mean about Ryan.”
“Oh, then just say that he’s your second-favorite big brother.”
Livy laughs, but I can tell she’s worried.
Emily unlocks her car. “Will you let me give you a ride home?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I try not to sound too cold or let on that I’m planning to be out of here tonight.
Chapter 25
I’m in such a total fog when I walk in the door that I almost don’t notice that Mom and Ryan are home. All I can think of is protecting Livy, but Dad’s got this big family dinner laid out at the kitchen table, and there’s really no way I’m going to get out of it.
Spaghetti in vodka sauce is the one thing he knows how to make, and it’s usually so good that I can’t get enough, but tonight, as he passes around the broccoli in garlic, I am trying to figure out how to chew the food that’s already in my mouth, not to mention the rest that’s on my plate.
“Sorry we missed the game. How’d it go?” Dad asks as he loads me up with garlic bread.
“Fine.”
Mom laughs. “Serves you right for asking a high school boy a question.”
Rosie wheels Ryan in from his bath. “Say good night, Ryan.”
“Ni!” He waves and actually looks happy to be going to bed. He points to the hallway, and Rosie says, “I guess he’s ready to hit the hay.”
There’s this really strong desire to reach out to him. To do one thing to let him know that I’m going to miss him, because the weird thing is, after all this, I am going to miss this New Ryan—the one I’m just getting to know.
Mom watches me. “He’s fine, honey. Just a few scrapes. Good as new.”
I nod.
“Kid is amazing,” Dad says. “Nothing can stop him.” He piles more food on his plate and then takes a big bite.
Livy twirling her spaghetti is so effing cute I almost can’t stand it. You OK? she mouths in my direction.
I smile, take a big bite of spaghetti, and shine my good mood on her. Even if it’s fake. Even if this time tomorrow, she’ll hate me, my leaving is the only thing that will stop this whole stupid crazy train.