by Liane Shaw
“I can understand that. It would make it hard to relax around me.” I try a smile, and he grins back a little.
“It’s not like that so much now though. You seem…different. Not so sad. Even now, when you’re so worried about Benjamin, I don’t feel that…panic thing around you that I used to.” He shrugs uncomfortably. He’s doing some Clare-style talking here and is obviously miles out of anything resembling his comfort zone. I feel a bit sorry for him, but I’m glad he’s doing it.
“I am different. And you don’t have to panic around me anymore. So, does this mean you’re done with the whole Super Ryan thing?”
“Super Ryan? You call me that too? I thought that was Cody’s obnoxious nickname for me.”
“I won’t call you that anymore. You’re not so super anyway.”
“Nope. I’ll pass that one over to you. Super Jack.”
“Jackson.”
We both turn toward the bed. My heart starts beating so hard that it sounds like a helicopter just flew into the room as I look into Benjamin’s open eyes.
“Super Jackson,” he says softly, as his lips curve ever so slightly into a smile.
sixteen
“I guess no one told you that I woke up earlier today. I don’t remember it very well because the whole world was…is pretty groggy. I didn’t know where I was or why my head hurt. I’m still not very clear on the details.” Benjamin smiles weakly. After the shock of hearing his voice, Ryan headed out to get a nurse who wasn’t nearly as surprised as we were. Once we realized we hadn’t just witnessed a miracle, Ryan not so subtly realized he had somewhere else to be and disappeared.
“So, you were lying there listening just now or did we wake you up?”
“A little of each. I’m glad you and Ryan figured a few things out.”
“Yeah, well I guess it’s been a long time coming, but I’m sorry that we decided to do that in your hospital room. Not exactly entertaining for you.”
He smiles, closing his eyes briefly as if it’s too much effort to keep them open.
“Are you getting tired? Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes and no,” he says, eyes still shut.
“Yes you’re tired but no you don’t want me to leave?” I say hopefully.
“Right and right. Can you tell me what happened? I’m just going to listen with my eyes closed. All this white shit is giving me a headache. If I pass out, don’t be offended.”
I knew he’d hate the “color scheme” in this room! I should go and get his rainbow project from the art room and tack it to the wall opposite his bed. Brighten up the place. Although, it’s so heavy that it would probably fall down and sprinkle colored stones all over the floor, which would piss off the staff.
“Okay. So, you just want me to tell you everything I remember? You don’t have any questions to start?”
“I don’t even remember enough to know what to ask.” He rubs his forehead slightly as if it hurts.
I’m not so sure talking about this right now is a good idea. I feel like I should ask someone’s permission or something like that. But I don’t want to treat him like a baby either. He asked me to do it. I don’t see where I have a choice. I reach back into my memory and take a deep breath.
“Well, we were going down the hill. I was way behind you because I suck at bike riding, which I didn’t tell you when you asked me to come because I didn’t want you to find someone else to go with.” He grins slightly, and I clear my throat before continuing. “So, I was pushing to keep up, and you were already halfway down, going a hundred miles an hour and singing or yelling or something loud. I couldn’t really tell from where I was. Then this big-ass truck comes out of nowhere and whips by me heading down to where you are.” His brow furrows, like he’s trying to think about my words. He rubs his forehead again. He really looks like he’s in some kind of pain.
“Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Should I get the nurse?” I interrupt myself to ask.
“No. It’s all right. Keep going. I’m just trying to follow what you’re saying.” His voice is so weak it makes my stomach do a panic flop, but I keep talking. The sooner I get this over with, the better.
“It slowed down when it got close. You were looking at the passenger side window, so I thought maybe someone said something to you. Then the truck seemed to stop for a second before it suddenly took off. It looked like it swerved toward the shoulder and then headed away so fast that it disappeared. It only took a few seconds for it all to happen, and I was down to your spot right after, but you were gone. Just gone.” The panic flop comes back and turns into a full-on nightmare as I remember that next horrible moment.
“Then I saw you. You’d fallen down the embankment and hurt yourself. I tried to stop the bleeding and then flagged down some help.” I try to keep my tone calm and matter-of-fact so that my voice doesn’t tell him how terrifying it really was.
“Super Jackson,” he whispers, opening his eyes for a second.
“I don’t know about that. But at least you’re here and you’re okay.” I hope.
He nods and then winces.
“I keep forgetting that moving makes me dizzy.”
“Maybe you should sleep now.”
“Okay. Can you stay for a bit?”
“Sure.” Does forever count as a bit?
I sit on the chair beside his bed and watch him. He looks worried, as if my words upset him. I wish I could reach over and touch his face, stroking away the lines that I think I just put there. But I can’t. All I can do is to keep watching until his muscles start to relax and his breathing becomes rhythmic enough that I can tell he’s fallen asleep. I reach over and touch the back of his hand gently and tiptoe out of the room.
“Hi, Jack.” Mrs. Lee is walking toward me, a bag in one hand and what looks like Benjamin’s cell phone in the other.
“Hi, Mrs. Lee. I think he’s sleeping.” She nods.
“That’s good. He’s still very tired. I brought him a few things that I’m hoping will keep him relaxed. Some books to read to him and his phone. It has all of his music.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. They look tired and full of worry.
“He’ll be happy to have the music. I think he’d like a can of paint, too. His room is pretty white.”
“That would be a great idea if we could. It might encourage him to keep his eyes open more now that he’s awake. The doctor says to be patient though. The light probably bothers him.”
“That makes sense.” Does it though? Does any of this make sense?
“He has a long road ahead of him, Jack. The doctors said it’s going to take patience and support. His hip will take a lot of recovery time, and they still don’t know about his back. His head injury is significant and might cause some memory loss or trouble with other things.”
“Other things?”
“Well, sometimes this kind of injury can cause fine motor difficulty. For example, make it difficult to draw. That kind of thing.”
“He’s kind of a terrible artist anyway,” I say without thinking. Mrs. Lee lets out a startled laugh as I clamp my hand over my mouth. “Shit! I mean, shoot. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“That’s okay. It’s true. He loves art though, and he’s always telling me how he wishes he could be as talented as you are.”
“Really? I’m always wishing I could be more like him.”
“He is quite a kid.” Her voice hitches a bit on the last word, and she sniffs as she starts digging in her purse for a Kleenex, as if it’s the most important thing in the world at this exact moment.
“He’s really strong. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I’m sure he’ll be fine. That’s comforting coming from a medical genius like myself.
“I know. He’s my champion. I just wish I could understand what happened. He’s a much better athlete than he is an artist, and he’s never falle
n like this before.” She looks at me in the same way the cops did. Like she’s looking for answers that for some reason I have hidden away from everyone.
“I wish I understood it too. I just didn’t see. I’m sorry.” I have both hands out toward her, palms up as if I’m trying to hand her my apology.
“Oh, honey. You have nothing to be sorry for! If you hadn’t been there…well, I can’t even let myself think about it.” She reaches over and pulls me into a quick hug, the bag of books bumping gently against my back. It should feel a little weird being hugged by my VP, but here in this hospital, away from school, she’s just Benjamin’s mom, and it feels okay. I hug her back and then we both step away.
“I’m going to go in, so he isn’t alone when he wakes up. Are you heading home?” she asks.
“Yeah, Mom is expecting me for supper. She wanted me to tell you she’s praying for Benjamin and that she lit a candle for him in church on Sunday.” I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell her that or not. I don’t know if people appreciate being prayed for when their religion is different from yours. My mom has this idea that everyone sees the world the same way she does, and that her particular brand of religious beliefs provides some kind of comfort to people who likely see it as just the opposite. Mrs. Lee is Jewish and Mr. Lee is Buddhist. My mom is Catholic. I stay away from anything resembling a church.
“Tell her thank you. It means a lot to me that she would do that.” She smiles gently, looking honestly pleased as she heads into Benjamin’s room.
I watch her go in and sit by his bed, gently taking his hand in hers, leaning forward as she puts her forehead against his and just stays there, face to face. I’m not sure, but it seems like she’s whispering to him.
It looks a bit like a prayer.
seventeen
“I’ve been checking around like you asked me to,” Cody says, sounding as defensive as I’ve ever heard him. He’s pacing around Ryan’s room like an animal caught in a trap. He’s avoiding eye contact, looking down at his own feet as they stomp their way across the floor for the twentieth time.
“Would you please stand still for one second? You’re making me dizzy.” Ryan does a quick shift to avoid Cody walking straight into his wheelchair. I’m sitting on the bed, out of potential harm’s way, just watching and listening. I’m too tired to say anything. I’ll let Ryan do the talking.
“Fine!” Cody shouts and sits down on Ryan’s chair, propping both feet up on his desk. His shoes look like he wore them to muck out a pig barn, and they smell even worse. Ryan just shakes his head, looking disgusted.
“Nice, Cody. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks. I will.” Cody shifts his feet, crossing his ankles so that dirt rains down on everything sitting on the desk. Ryan leans forward to rescue some pages of the graphic novel we were working on before the world fell apart and then glowers at Cody.
“Shit, Cody. What the hell is your problem? You’re being a total jerk.”
“My problem? You want to know what my problem is? My problem is that you sent me out looking to see if someone hurt your friend’s little buddy. And I’ve had to sneak around trying to find things out that I don’t even want to know. It’s bad enough that people know I’m friends with you, and you’re friends with him.” He points at me. “It’s already screwed royally with my rep. And now I’m asking questions that I shouldn’t be asking, and people are starting to talk about me. You have no idea what I’m going through.”
We both stare at him in amazement. Seriously, does he ever actually listen to himself? Does he see who he’s sitting here with?
“You are kidding, right?” Ryan asks incredulously. Cody looks royally pissed.
“No, I’m not. And I know what you’re thinking. But you guys are used to it. People have always stared at you or talked behind your back. It’s just part of your deal. But this is not my deal.”
“No, you’re usually doing the staring and the talking.”
Cody glowers at Ryan for several seconds. Then he sighs slightly in a way that almost sounds sad.
“It’s what I do. And sometimes I kick ass when I need to. Like I did for you two wuss babies that day at the dumpsters.”
“Wuss babies. Very nice.” Ryan rolls his eyes.
“Whatever. Those guys had it coming. There was nothing cool about those idiots coming after you. I don’t mind a fair fight. And I never saw the big deal with a few carefully chosen insults now and then, just to keep life interesting.”
“Except when the insults are thrown at you,” Ryan says, pointing at Cody with both index fingers.
“Even then it’s no big deal if I’m giving it back. I don’t like this talking behind my back crap that’s going on, but I can’t make it stop.”
“I don’t even know why we’re having a conversation about what you do or don’t like. You’re supposed to be telling us what you know about Benjamin.” Ryan’s voice rises in frustration as Cody slides his feet off the desk, bringing them down to the floor with a loud thump and sending up a cloud of pig-shit dust. He leans forward, putting both hands on his knees, and just stares at the desktop.
“What I know about Benjamin is that no one had the right to go after him like that. Words are one thing. Knocking him into the ditch is something else,” Cody says, gripping his knees so hard that he must be hurting himself.
“Knocking him into the ditch? As in deliberately? Did someone tell you that’s what happened?” I jump off the bed and stand beside him. He looks up at me. There’s something in his eyes that I’ve never seen there before.
“Not directly. But I listened. Asked a few questions. I know who was in the truck. I know they saw him there and decided to give him a hard time. I don’t know if they knocked him down on purpose, but from what I heard, they were trying to scare him, and they knew he was down and just left him there.”
“Who was it?” I grind the question out through gritted teeth. My body is vibrating with an anger so intense, I might burst into flames.
Cody just shakes his head.
“Cody, you have to tell. These assholes can’t get away with this. Even you can see that, can’t you?” Ryan comes up beside me and puts one hand on my arm. I must be vibrating so much that he can see it.
“Even I can see that? Yes, Ryan, even stupid Cody McNeely can see that knocking some poor kid off his bike into the ditch and driving away like a frigging coward is wrong. I just…can’t believe it.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asks.
“I mean what I said. I can’t believe that they would take it this far. I mean, I hear the talk and even the threats all the time, but no one goes through with any of it. It’s just talk. It doesn’t really hurt anyone.” I wonder if he really thinks that’s true. If he can actually be that oblivious. I want to ask, but I don’t dare distract him. I have to know who did this, so I just keep my mouth shut and let Cody keep talking. “This is different. Whether they actually tried to hit him or not, they knew it was dangerous to be screwing around with a truck and a bike like that. They just didn’t care. They put that kid in the hospital.”
“Benjamin,” I say quietly.
“What?” Cody looks up at me.
“His name is Benjamin. And he’s smart and nice and funny. He’s good at sports, just like you are. He’s a person just like you are, only better. And your friends just treated him like garbage.”
“They aren’t my friends. Far from it. And in spite of what you may think, I’m not okay with this shit. I don’t want this to be some town you hear about on the news because people get hurt by local assholes.”
“So, do something about it. Report what you know. Help it not happen to someone else.” Ryan’s voice sounds both frustrated and tired now, and I know how he feels.
Cody shifts his eyes to Ryan. “I don’t really know anything. I mean, I know, but I don’t. I just heard things. No one told me dir
ectly. If I snitch and can’t back it up, I’ve just screwed myself for all eternity, and it won’t make any difference.”
“It doesn’t matter if you have proof. That’s the cops’ job. If you have any information, you need to tell them. Get off your self-pity train and do the right thing for a change.” I’m practically growling and they both look at me in surprise.
“Self-pity train?” Cody starts to grin. Ryan takes one look at him and laughs, which makes me start smiling even though nothing about this is remotely funny.
“It’s not funny,” Ryan says, even though he’s the one laughing.
“It is a little. Jackie baby getting all tough and scary.” Cody grins at me full-on for a second and then sobers up. “I am sorry and pissed that your friend got hurt. And I will tell what I heard, and ruin my life, if you really think it will make things better. But only to the cops. Not you.” He shoots me an expression worthy of any of the martyrs my mother likes to pray to.
“I want to know.”
“You’ll know when everyone knows, and when the cops are on it. I don’t want you going off and getting all fierce and then getting the shit kicked out of you. I don’t have the energy to rescue you again.”
“He’s right, Jack. Let the cops deal with it,” Ryan says quietly.
I take a deep breath. I know they’re right, but I still want to know now. I want to look those assholes in the eyes and tell them I know who and what they are.
But getting the shit kicked out of me won’t help Benjamin, so I concede. “Okay. We’ll do it your way.”
“I don’t think it’s exactly my way, but I’ll do it—later,” Cody says. Ryan stares at him, eyebrows raised, head shaking slowly, back and forth.
“Now? You want me to go right now?” Cody asks, sounding wounded. “You don’t trust me to go later?”
“Not one little bit. If I had my license, I’d drive you there myself just to make sure,” Ryan says, wheeling toward the door. “And don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.” He smiles as Cody stands up and marches to the door, looking like he’s headed for his last supper on death row.