by Alex Lyttle
So I found ways.
After school I’d get off the bus, leave my bag by the front door and just walk. I’d never really know where I was going but that didn’t matter. I’d walk through the woods, and through the frozen, empty fields, and sooner or later I’d turn up at the tree house in the woods. I didn’t know where I was walking but I knew why.
I was looking for Sammy.
I kept thinking about Oliver’s version of heaven and trying to find signs that my brother was still around. I looked everywhere—everywhere but the Secret Spot. I couldn’t bring myself to go back there. An invisible wall of guilt kept me away.
So instead I’d lie down in the middle of a big open field and stare up at the passing clouds and think, that one, no, that one. But it never really felt like Sammy was there.
Other days I’d go inside the tree house and open the wooden chest where we kept all our Goosebumps books.
“Which one should we read today?” I’d say, then I’d choose the one I thought Sammy would pick.
I’d read out loud just like I used to and when I’d come to a word I thought Sammy wouldn’t know I’d stop and say, “Hideous, it means really ugly or disgusting or something like that.”
As the days rolled on I began to give up hope that I would ever find my brother. I started thinking Oliver was wrong. I felt cheated. I grew angry.
I’ll never find him, I thought.
Until the day I did.
I had been sitting beside the river thinking about all the hours Sammy and I had spent fishing in that tiny stream with rods of sticks and string.
“I can’t believe we actually thought we might catch something,” I said, forcing a laugh.
I thought I heard Sammy laughing too, but when I stopped and listened carefully it was just the sound of the wind rushing between the trees.
I leaned over the river and started to cry. I watched as my tears fell into a still pool at the side of the river, obscuring the image of my face beneath. I cried for so long I forgot what I was crying about.
Then it happened.
I found him.
Sammy.
One second I was watching my tears fall, the next I was staring into the eyes of my brother. His dark brown hair falling over his forehead, his chubby cheeks dimpling with a smile.
“Sammy!” I said. “Sammy!”
He was trying to say something back to me but I couldn’t hear him.
“What? Oh, I know,” I said, “you want to read a Goosebumps book. Hold on.”
I ran to the tree house and climbed up the ladder. The chest of Goosebumps was in the corner and I looked through it, tossing book after book aside as I tried to find the one that I thought Sammy would want. I couldn’t make up my mind so I grabbed the rope handle on the side of the chest and pulled it toward the ladder. I walked around the other side and pushed it out of the tree house so that it landed with a thud at the bottom that echoed through the trees and sent birds rushing to the sky.
When I had pulled the box all the way from the tree house to the river I sat down again. I reached inside and grabbed the first Goosebumps book I laid my hands on and started to read. I read for ten minutes before putting the book down in my lap and leaning over to check on Sammy.
Only, he wasn’t there anymore. Instead I saw only my stupid refection staring back at me.
“Sammy?!” I yelled, reaching my hand into the water. It was freezing. My reflection vanished for a moment then returned a few seconds later when the water calmed. “Sammy?! Come back!”
I was suddenly furious.
“Sammy, where are you?!”
I looked again but he still wasn’t there. My heart began to race. I felt abandoned. I was panicking.
I stood up and threw the book I’d been reading into the water, hitting my reflection hard so that the water rippled and jumped. When it calmed again it was only me staring back. I reached into the box and grabbed another book. This time I ripped it in half before throwing it into the water. Again, only my reflection returned. I kept reaching into the box, pulling out Goosebumps after Goosebumps, tearing them down the spine, shredding the pages, ripping the covers, then hurling them at my image.
The river became a morgue of floating books. I kept going until there were no Goosebumps left.
I looked back into the water.
Me.
Only me.
Sammy, I thought. Why did we have to look so much alike?
CHAPTER 39
I WALKED BACK TO THE HOUSE, MY BODY STILL TENSE WITH RAGE.
When I heard my parents’ voices coming from the kitchen my anger grew.
They were fighting. They were always fighting. It was like the world was made of flint—everything provided a spark.
“Well, it certainly feels like I’m alone!” I heard Mom yell as I got closer.
“Liz, I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what you want me to do,” Dad said back, calmer and quieter, but with bitterness.
“I want you to give a damn, that’s what I want. I want you to stop hiding in your office all day, I want you to come to church with us on Sundays, I want you to go see a therapist, I want you to start being a father to your son.”
I reached the house and leaned back against the brick wall, listening to their voices through the kitchen window.
“I’m trying, aren’t I? I read that book you gave me.”
“Twenty pages,” Mom replied, “you read twenty pages.”
“A lot of help those twenty pages were. And what about you? You’re off at your fundraiser meetings every night of the week and that’s okay?”
“At least it gets me out of the house!”
“Maybe I don’t want to leave the house!”
“No, maybe what you want is for me to leave! At least that’s how it feels! If you’re intentionally trying to push me away then just say so! Because at this point, I don’t really think a divorce would be all that different!”
I’d had enough—the fighting, the constant hints at divorce, I’d heard this over and over and over. Every morning before I’d get out of bed, every night before I’d climb back in. It was another reason I left every chance I could. I wanted to be away from it all. I didn’t want Mom to leave—I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away and never come back. But right then, more than anything, I wanted them to shut up.
I bent down and grabbed a rock wedged under the side of the house and took a few steps back. I threw the rock at the kitchen window before I’d really had time to think about what I was doing.
The glass shattered as if it had been struck by lightning and the rock ricocheted off something metal inside.
I didn’t even have time to run before their faces appeared through the broken glass.
“Cal?” Mom said, her voice more surprised than angry.
“Maybe you should just leave!” I yelled. “Or better yet, how about I just leave!”
“Cal—” Dad said, but I didn’t hear anything else. I turned and ran as fast as I could. I ran through the yard and into the dead, frozen fields beyond. I ran until I couldn’t run anymore and then I walked. It was cold out and the sweat I’d worked up from running quickly turned to ice. By the time I arrived at Aleta’s house I was shivering.
Mr. Alvarado opened the door but I was too cold to be scared. Anyway, he looked more worried than scary at that moment.
“May I please talk to Aleta,” I said, through chattering teeth.
He brought me inside and told me to sit at the kitchen table while he made me hot chocolate and wrapped a blanket around me. Aleta came downstairs looking just as worried and sat next to me. After we had finished our drinks and the feeling returned to my fingers and toes, we were allowed to go upstairs to Aleta’s room.
We sat on her bed and I told her everything.
“I can’t stand it. They fight all the time and it drives me crazy. I shouldn’t have thrown the rock but…I dunno…sometimes I just feel so angry. Angry with Dad for never being around, ang
ry with Mom for nagging, angry with myself for…for…well, for being the reason Sammy’s gone.”
Aleta looked shocked. “What do you mean?”
I took in a deep breath—I hadn’t told anyone. “You know how Sammy died from pneumonia? Well, I’m the one who gave it to him. I…I didn’t know, I mean, I did but I didn’t think about it. I had a cold and went to the hospital. He got my cold and it turned into pneumonia. I’m the reason he’s gone.”
Aleta shook her head. “Don’t say that. It’s not right. And it doesn’t help, that’s for sure.”
“How would you know?”
“I used to say the same thing after my mom died,” Aleta said.
“You did?”
She nodded.
I’d wanted to ask her a thousand times how her mother had died but it had never felt right. Suddenly I felt like she wanted to tell me.
“How did she die?” I asked.
She paused. “In a car accident,” she said. “She was driving me to school. It was snowing that morning and the roads were covered. As we turned into an intersection I saw him coming. I remember thinking he was coming toward us so fast that he might not be able to stop, but I didn’t say anything—at least not until it was too late. There was no time for my mom to do anything.” She stopped for a moment, still staring down at the bed. Finally, she looked back up at me. “It took me a long time to remember even that much, afterwards it’s only blank. I woke up in the hospital.”
I wanted to say something intelligent. Something to make her feel better but all that came out was, “Oh.”
She didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it felt good to finally tell someone.
“Afterwards I blamed myself. Why hadn’t I yelled sooner? Why had I lived and she died? I started to wish I was dead too.”
“And that’s why you have these?” I said, reaching forward and pulling up her sleeve to reveal the rows of thin scars on her arm.
She nodded.
“So what makes those thoughts go away? What makes it better?”
“Honestly,” she said, “nothing.”
I had hoped for some revelation. Some magical way to make the pain go away, but who was I kidding, Aleta was still hurting and always would be. I knew that.
“It gets easier though. It’s almost sad in a way but you stop thinking about it as much and start thinking about other things. You start to remember the happy times instead of focusing on the what-ifs and whys. And you can do some things to help that.”
“Like what?”
“Like writing down all the memories—when you’re ready.”
I didn’t feel ready.
“And you can start doing things you enjoy again. Which brings me to something else I wanted to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve put in an application at the Children’s Hospital to start volunteering there. I was wondering, or hoping, that you’d want to come as well. I know it might not be easy to go back there but—”
“I don’t think I could right now,” I said, shaking my head.
She nodded that she understood. “Okay, just tell me when you’re ready—for both things.”
CHAPTER 40
ALETA AND I SPENT THE REST OF THE EVENING DOING A PUZZLE on her floor when Mr. Alvarado poked his head in to say that Dad was waiting out front to take me home. I was dreading the conversation I knew was coming. I figured I would be in trouble for breaking the window.
But when I got in the car Dad didn’t look mad at all. He looked something else—nervous maybe?
We drove a little ways without saying anything but I knew he wanted to speak because he kept glancing at me in the rear-view mirror and seemed to be driving illegally slow.
“Cal,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I, umm, about what happened.” He cleared his throat. “About what you said. Umm, you’re right about your mother and I—we shouldn’t be fighting. It’s not fair to you. I know how hard this has been on you so I’m—”
“How could you know?” I interrupted. “You never leave your office.”
Dad stopped talking and I immediately regretted what I’d said. I knew how hard everything had been on him. I knew how hard Mom was on him. I shouldn’t have joined her side but I just had.
For a minute Dad drove on then suddenly the car pulled over and stopped—right on the side of the highway. I was sitting in the back seat and couldn’t see Dad’s face but I knew by the soft sobs that he was crying.
“I’m sorry, Cal,” he said, but his voice was shaky. “I know I haven’t been there for you these last few months. I’m trying my best—I really am—but I, I just feel so tired all the time.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and turned toward me. It is the worst thing in the world to see your father cry and I realized I was crying too. “I just miss your brother so much and I…it’s no excuse. I’m going to try harder. You’ll see, I will.”
“I don’t want you and Mom to get divorced,” I said. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”
He nodded. “I know. We both know. We talked after you left—we’re going to try not to fight anymore.”
“Maybe you should go see the counsellor like Mom thinks,” I suggested.
He looked at me momentarily then nodded.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try. Maybe we can all go.”
“Okay,” I said under my breath. I wasn’t keen on going to talk to someone, but if it meant that Mom and Dad might be better, I’d go. I’d do anything to stop the cancer crumble.
We pulled into the driveway and the car stopped. Before I got out I said, “Dad?”
“Uh huh?”
“I know you miss Sammy. I miss him too.”
He leaned over the backseat and I leaned forward. We hugged awkwardly then I climbed out of the car.
Later that night I had part two of my family reconciliation when Mom came into my room. I had been lying on my single bed—the bunk beds now gone—looking through the journal with all the Levels but closed it quickly when I heard her coming. I put my face into the pillow and pretended to be sleeping. I knew it was her because she sat on the bed and started rubbing my back, just like she always did to Sammy.
“Cal,” she said. “I heard about your talk with your father. I wanted to come and tell you I’m sorry too. We shouldn’t have been yelling.”
I continued to pretend to be asleep.
“I think it’s a good idea for us all to see the counsellor. Me included. We’re struggling with everything and it will help if we struggle together. I know I’ve been hard on you but I—”
“And hard on Dad,” I said.
She paused. “Yes, and hard on Dad. But I’m going to try my best to let things go. I have to realize that everyone grieves in their own way and it’s not fair for me to expect you two to want to do everything I do. Anyway, I’m happy we’re going to talk to someone.”
Her arms wrapped around me from behind and I turned. We hugged and I whispered, “I’m sorry I told you I wanted you to leave.”
“I know,” she whispered back.
CHAPTER 41
WINTER GAVE WAY TO SPRING AND A WARM BREEZE BLEW through the open kitchen door. The snow was gone except for a few shadowy places and everywhere the world was starting to green again. The birds were back. Soon the corn would be planted and I could start judging the passage of time by its height. Summer was around the corner.
I was lying in bed listening to a sparrow outside when something caught my attention. I climbed from my bed and went to the window to get a closer look. When I was sure of what I’d seen I raced downstairs.
“Mom, Dad!” I yelled.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table and stood up quickly. “What is it, Cal?” she said, looking frightened.
I heard footsteps racing down the stairs after me and Dad appeared in his pajamas. “Cal?” he said. “What’s the problem?”
I ran over and grabbed his hand. “Come quickly—outside!”
I pulled him through the screen door and M
om followed. We rounded the house to my bedroom window. In front of it stood the two cherry trees—Sakura and Big Tree.
“Look,” I said, pulling down the lowest branch from Sakura.
They got closer to see.
Sure enough, there they were—tiny miracles on every branch.
“Sammy!” I said.
The whole branch was covered in them. Tiny buds, some already showing signs of opening. I looked over at Big Tree—it had buds too, but that was no surprise, it had blossomed every spring since we’d moved to Huxbury, but Sakura, well, that was Sammy.
Dad looked at Mom and smiled. She wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled too.
I didn’t stay long to admire the tree. I had something else I needed to do. I raced back inside and grabbed my backpack from my room then sprinted across our lawn toward the fields.
“Where are you going?” Mom called after me.
“I have something I need to do!” I yelled back.
By the time I arrived at Aleta’s house I was completely out of breath and my legs were tired. I leaned against the front door and knocked. Raquel opened it and I practically fell on top of her.
“Is…Aleta…here?” I panted.
Raquel raised her eyebrows. “She’s upstairs. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” I said.
When I entered Aleta’s room she looked at me like I was a ghost.
“Cal?”
I realized I hadn’t even knocked.
She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top. A book lay open on her chest.
I tossed my backpack next to her on the bed.
“I’m ready,” I said.
For a second she looked confused then she smiled and put her book on the bedside table. As she stood up she said, “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“Okay, let’s go.”
The air was chilly but the sun was warm as we walked through the fields to our Secret Spot. When we got there we stood in front of the trees for a moment, just staring. The place looked the same from the outside but when we entered it felt different. The forest was quieter, like all the spring sparrows had decided to stop singing at once, and the decaying leaves underneath our feet were soft and soundless.