“I’m tired.” I couldn’t really think clearly, and I didn’t know where I was or how I got there. “Why am I so tired when I just woke up?”
“Dylan, You’re at the hospital right now.” He reached down, and I could feel his hand on mine. “The doctor says you’re going to be fine.” I squeezed his hand because he looked sad, and I was more confused than anything else. “You got attacked at school, Dylan. Do you remember what happened?”
“I remember going to Mr. Simons after class, and he couldn’t grade my test because he had something he had to do.” I tried to sit up in the bed and managed to get about halfway up, but it made me dizzy. “Was Tommy with me? Is he okay?”
“It was just you, Dylan. The janitor walked into the weight room at school and saw some guys hitting you and he yelled at them. They ran out of the room. The janitor stayed with you and called the ambulance. Coach McCarty came in the ambulance with you and called me.”
“Am I okay?” I was so tired, and I had no idea what happened to me. I was sore, and I couldn’t seem to keep more than a few words in my brain, but Tommy was okay. That was good. “Can I play football?”
My dad sat on the very edge of the bed. It was weird. This was the first time I could remember him ever sitting on my bed, even though it wasn’t actually my bed. “Dylan, you’re fine. The doctors want you to stay overnight to make sure there’s no concussion, but you don’t have any broken bones. Some bruising and a black eye.”
“Dad, can I get some sleep now?”
“Sure thing, Dylan. You just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right here.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. It reminded me of something. I was just a little kid, maybe four or five and really sick and Mom did the same thing.
“Dad, would you call Riley for me and ask him to look out for Tommy tomorrow. And don’t let Tommy find out what happened. He has his test on Saturday, okay? I don’t want him to worry.” Dad squeezed my hand one more time. “Good night, Dad. I’m just going to sleep for a while, okay?”
“Sure thing, kiddo. I’ll call Riley right now.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I closed my eyes, and I think I was asleep in about twenty seconds.
WHEN I woke up the next morning, my ribs were still sore, but whatever drugs they gave me for the pain weren’t making me fuzzy anymore. I could think clearly. I was still tired, but I could deal with that. I was watching something on the TV, but I wasn’t sure what it was because I couldn’t find the remote to turn up the sound. There were some cops there earlier, and I answered all the questions I could, which didn’t mean much, because I couldn’t remember anything. They promised they’d do whatever they could to find out who’d attacked me. I let them know I was pretty sure it was Russell and his buddies and asked what they were going to do about it. They told me not to worry and just get better. I was dozing off when I heard a knock on the door, and I looked up to see Coach’s head floating in space. Okay, so maybe the drugs weren’t totally out of my system yet.
“How are you feeling, Porter?”
I grinned. “Doing great, Coach. Thanks.” I sat up straighter and ended up gritting my teeth in pain, so it wasn’t the effect I was going for, but I tried to cover it up by coughing. That only made the pain worse. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” He sat down in the chair next to the bed, his big frame taking up the entire space. He took off the baseball cap he always wore and tossed it on the bed. “You had me worried for a few, Porter.”
“Sorry.”
He snorted a little laugh. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” He paused, like he wanted to say something but was afraid to. “Do you remember who attacked you?”
I shook my head, and concentrated so hard, Coach must’ve thought I had the hardest trig test in the world in front of me. “I remember going into the weight room and I was getting ready to squat. I knew I wanted to get some good sets in and then someone yelled something at me. I don’t remember much after that.” I tried to laugh, but it came out like a grunt. I knew who it was. I wasn’t stupid. Or an idiot. No matter what Allie said.
“Mr. Carpenter, the janitor,” Coach replied. “He jumped in between you and whoever it was. He’s looking through the yearbook, but it happened pretty fast, he said.” Coach sighed. He sounded almost as tired as I felt. “Jesus, Porter. I hate to say this, but if I had any idea all this was going to happen, I would have told you to stay in the closet.”
“I can still play, Coach.”
“Dammit, that’s not what I care about, Dylan!” he barked at me, then stood up and started to pace. Coach is a big guy, and the room was pretty small, so he only had about three steps to get from the door to the window and back again. “You could have been seriously hurt. I don’t give a crap if we ever win a game again, but I won’t have any of my kids hurt while I can help it.”
I remembered. “Tommy. Did Riley—” I was trying to lean forward, but I couldn’t move really well without pain somewhere in my torso.
“Both Riley and your dad called me last night to let me know how you were.” He gave up pacing and stood still at the edge of the bed. “We didn’t tell Tommy what happened, and I squashed most of the rumors already. There are more teachers and football players watching over Tommy Peterson and his friends than there are secret service agents guarding the president.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I leaned back slowly, because I knew if I flopped back, like I wanted, my whole body was going to hurt. “I really appreciate it.” Now it was my turn to be silent for a minute. “You’re going to bench me for the rest of the season, aren’t you?”
“No, Dylan.” Coach looked hurt. I had no idea what I said, but it must have been something bad. “Help me out here, Dylan. I need to keep my players safe.” He sighed heavily. “I need to keep you all safe,” he repeated.
“I don’t want to quit football, Coach.” I knew what he wanted me to say. To do. If I walked away and kept my head down for the rest of the season, then it would all go away after a few weeks. Something was bound to happen that would distract everyone. If I stayed on the team, out and proud, and dating the smartest guy in school. Well, that was another story. “And I sure as hell don’t want to give up Tommy.”
He nodded and then suddenly smiled, like I’d told him he’d won the lottery. “Yeah, that’s what the guys said this morning. We had a team meeting, by which, I mean they stormed my office and told me they’d be acting as bodyguards and wouldn’t think about playing the rest of the season if you weren’t there to lead them.” He grabbed his hat and put it back on his head. “I needed to make sure you were on the same page, Porter. If we have any chance at playoffs this year, we need to be one mind.” Coach leaned down and rested his big hand on my shoulder. “Get some rest and heal up, son. I’d like you back soon.” He squeezed. “And Riley told me why you wanted to make sure Tommy didn’t know, but do yourself and him a favor—as soon as that test of his is over, make sure he hears what happened and make sure he hears it from you. The last thing you should do is hide something like this from your boyfriend. It’ll only piss him off.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“We’ll find out who did this and I will personally spend the rest of my days making their lives hell.”
I didn’t want to spoil his mood by telling him I’d already figured out who’d done it. I just didn’t know exactly what I was going to do about it.
By noon my dad was wheeling me out of the hospital. They wouldn’t let me walk out on my own, even though I was fine, but they wouldn’t let me keep the wheelchair either, which kind of sucked. How cool would it be to have a wheelchair for a few days? Dad didn’t want to, but I made him stop at the grocery store. I wasn’t going to let a little pain stop me from my first date with Tommy.
I figured if Riley, Jonny, Allie, and everyone else did show up, I’d have to make something that would make everyone happy. As we were pulling into the lot, I knew it would have to be Mom’s lasagna recipe. I realized I’d never even asked To
mmy if he was a vegetarian. What if he was? What if he was allergic to something and I accidentally killed him? I wanted to blame the weirdness in my head on the medicine—the doctors had sent me home with some painkillers that my dad said he’d hold on to and only give me when I really needed one. I couldn’t pronounce what the pills were, but they had to be pretty strong for Dad to say that—but I knew the crazy going on inside was all me.
As we were walking through the grocery store, me leaning on the cart, I realized I could make two pans. One with meat and one vegetarian. Of course, that meant I had to change the salad a little bit, because if I used carrots in the lasagna, I couldn’t use them in the salad. I tried to think about what I could do to make the salad a little fancier, but then realized I could look up some salad recipes online tonight and go shopping tomorrow morning. Then I realized that if I was on painkillers, Dad probably wouldn’t let me drive, because it would be too dangerous and then I knew that if I couldn’t figure out the salad, which I didn’t have to cook, then what hope did I have for the lasagna, which I was going to have to make twice. And if I couldn’t do any of that right, then how could I have a relationship?
Dad must have noticed that something was going on in my brain, because he took the grocery list from my hand—written on the back of a prescription pad—and replaced it with the car keys. “Dylan, go outside and sit in the car. I’ll be out in ten minutes, okay? Go close your eyes for a little bit.” I started to protest, but he cut me off. “Go. I can handle this. I used to go grocery shopping all the time.”
I nodded and shuffled out of the store and over to the car. I opened the door and checked my phone, which was plugged into Dad’s portable charger. I’d run out of battery overnight in the hospital and there were a whole bunch of get well messages from the team. Nothing from Tommy, which was probably a good thing. It meant that no one had told him anything. I sent him a super-quick text.
Good luck on your test. Thinking of you. See you at dinner!
I almost made that a question mark, but didn’t want him to think I wasn’t into it. I closed my eyes for just a minute, my phone still in my lap. My dad didn’t wake me up until we were in the driveway and he’d already unloaded the groceries.
Riley came by about eight o’clock to see how I was feeling. He walked in and saw me sitting on the couch.
“Jeez, dude. You look like hell.” He plopped down next to me and waved to my dad, who was in the kitchen. “What did the doctor say?”
“I don’t look that bad, do I?” I picked up my phone and stared at myself in the reflection. I did look like hell. “In my defense, I haven’t showered in a couple of days.” I tossed my phone on the couch next to me. “Docs said I’m pretty good. Ribs are a little bruised but no broken bones, no bleeding. I’ll be good as new in a week or so.” I lowered my voice a little. “Everything okay at school?”
“You mean, did Tommy find out about you and did anyone try to mess with him?” Riley grinned, enjoying the anxious look on my face. “Naw, dude. He didn’t find out. We had to let Rick and Robert and Mouse in on it, but, you know, Tommy’s not exactly the school gossip.” Riley propped his feet on my coffee table. “Nobody even looked at him funny. Got to tell you, though, he had at least two of us hanging around him at all times.” He sighed. “You remember who it was?”
“C’mon, Ri, we both know who did it. It was Russell and his buddies. And I told the cops too when they asked me about it.”
“You did? Good for you. I hope they get their asses nailed to the wall. What are they going to do?” Riley looked worried, but I wasn’t sure why.
“I know what I want to do. I want to kill all three of them.” I could feel my fists tightening up and I forced them to unclench. “But I don’t want Tommy or any of you guys to get caught in the middle.”
“You get in a fight at school, and you get expelled. Zero tolerance policy, remember?” Riley put his hand on my shoulder. “If we’re going to take care of those bastards, we have to take care of it off the school grounds.”
“No.” I raised my voice and then dropped it a little bit. “I mean it, Riley. I don’t want you guys involved. If anybody’s going to get in trouble, it’s just me.”
“Nope. It’s not just you, dude. I’m your best friend.”
My dad walked into the room, saving me from having to talk about it anymore. “Riley.”
“Hi, Mr. Porter. How’s it going?”
“I’m doing well, thank you.” Dad eased himself into his chair. “How are you?”
“Same old, same old, Mr. Porter.”
“And what were you two whispering about in here?” Dad smiled a big smile at the two of us.
I tried grinning back, but I probably came across looking like the Joker. Him I know. “Nothing, Dad. Just catching up.”
Dad nodded. I don’t know if I was super obvious, or if I’d underestimated his parental learning curve, but he wasn’t fooled. “Dylan, Riley. If either of you have anything you’d like to tell me about who you think did this, we should share it with both the school and the police. Under no circumstances is this something you should be handling on your own. A stupid decision could lead to expulsion, criminal charges, not going to college, or worse, getting hurt. Have I made myself clear? This is not the ‘Beat It’ video.”
Riley made a duck face. “What?”
“It’s a song. ‘Beat It’ by Michael Jackson.” Dad rolled his eyes. People in my life did that a lot, but, plus side, it wasn’t me he was rolling them at.
“I know who Michael Jackson is, Mr. Porter. I’m just not getting the reference.”
“It’s a video about two rival gangs and, well, it’s been awhile, but I think someone gets badly hurt before they all join forces and start singing.” Dad rambled to a stop and now he made a duck face, but I think he was just pursing his lips because he was confused. “The moral of the story is, that if you two are plotting some payback on whoever you think hurt Dylan, I understand the sentiment, but no way am I allowing it to happen. Is that understood?”
Riley nodded, looking back and forth between me and my dad. “Yes, Mr. Porter.”
The three of us ended up hanging out in the kitchen, the two of them trying to help while I was slicing up the vegetables for tomorrow’s lasagna.
HOW I HAD THE WORLD’S WORST PARTY
THE NEXT morning, I slept pretty late. It was almost nine by the time I got up, but I wasn’t too freaked out, because we’d gotten all the groceries the day before. My ribs weren’t as sore as they were the other day, so I figured the best thing to do while Dad was at work was to start cleaning. I knew I’d do the kitchen last, so I started with the living room. I dusted and then vacuumed, and I realized that the whole room was kind of boring. The walls were white and the couch was gray and the carpet was gray and the coffee table was light wood. We had a few things on the wall, but they were only some paintings and a couple of black and white landscape pictures. I went to the closet and pulled out a box Dad had put away after Mom died. It was filled with pictures of all of us. I knew it made him feel bad to see them, but now and then, when he was at work, I pulled them out to look at them. I wanted to remember Mom, especially today.
I pulled out one picture that was taken on my fifth birthday. We’d just moved into town, and I didn’t know anybody to invite to a party, so Mom and Dad took me to the zoo. In the picture, I’m sitting on Dad’s shoulders, Mom is tickling me, and all three of us were laughing—Mom and me looking at each other while Dad tries to look up at me on his shoulders. Mom had brought the camera and some woman next to us at the gorilla cage had taken the picture. I put all the pictures back in the box except for that one. I put it right in the center of the table. It looked good there and I smiled at Mom for one quick second before I started cleaning again.
Around one in the afternoon, my dad called to ask if I needed anything before he came home, promising he’d be there just after five. I texted Riley, Jonny, and Chad, who all told me they’d be over before six. Jonn
y was bringing Allie. Chad was bringing Steven, Rick, Robert, and Mouse. It’d be a full house. I texted Tommy and said that I hoped he’d done well on his test and that I could pick him up at five. That should give us some time alone, or at the very least with just me and him and my dad. I put on some music, washed my hands, and then started all the food prep. I liked cooking a lot. It reminded me a little bit of football. There was a lot of practice that required strict attention, but once you got used to what worked and what didn’t, it was as important to use your instincts. Once I thought of flavors the way I did my teammates, who worked best together and who didn’t get along, well, it got easier. My mom taught me a lot about cooking. Even when I started football, Mom made sure I had my Sundays clear so we could make food for the whole week.
Both lasagnas were in the refrigerator, covered in tinfoil and waiting for the oven, the vegetables were cut for the salad, and I wondered if, maybe I should make some bread too. It was a lot of carbs, but I had some leftover garlic, and garlic bread always went well with Italian food. But what if Tommy wanted to kiss tonight? I couldn’t kiss him with garlic-bread breath. But there was garlic in the main course and he’d be eating that too, so maybe he wouldn’t mind. I mean, if we both had garlic breath, it wouldn’t be too bad. It would be nice, actually. Kissing Tommy would be really nice.
AT FIVE o’clock, with the lasagnas in the oven and the bathrooms and living room clean, I stood at Tommy’s door with my shirt tucked in and buttoned up and my tie straight. I put my hand up to ring the doorbell, but it opened before I could even touch it. Tommy closed the door behind him fast and locked it behind him.
He started talking before he even looked at me. “My dad says I have to be in the house before eleven o’clock and….” He looked up at me and frowned. “Dylan, what happened to your face?”
“What?” I put my hand on my cheek and realized he was talking about the big bruise and sort of black eye. “Oh, that. C’mon, I’ll tell you on the way over.” We walked down the short pathway, and I opened the car door for him. “How was your test? Did you do well?”
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