Boy Shattered

by Eli Easton

  So why did I feel weird about it?

  Oh. Right. I felt weird because Brian Marshall was the hottest guy in school. The freaking Tigers’ quarterback. Boy who’d launched a thousand girlish sighs. I was afraid of coming off as some stupidly smitten gay dude with a crush.

  But wasn’t that selfish? Brian deserved to be treated like anyone else. Wasn’t ignoring someone because they were too good-looking as bad as ignoring someone because they were ugly? Or queer?

  I just had to make sure the attraction thing was pushed to the back of my mind and buried under concrete. Because Brian had been badly hurt. And if he needed anything at all from me, he needed a friend, not someone perving on him.

  Resolved, I typed in a text message. My thumb only hovered for a moment before I hit Send.

  Landon: Hey Brian. How are you feeling?

  The message came back right away.

  Brian: Not too shitty. Pain meds and Netflix. Can recommend if U R ever shot.

  That made me smile.

  Landon: You’re watching a movie? We can talk later.

  Brian: No, man. I’m between episodes. How was Chandal’s service?

  I thought about how much to tell him. How to condense the experience. But once I began typing, it came rushing out.

  Landon: Awful. Her mom cried so hard she couldn’t breathe, and her dad just sat there like a zombie. I’m so frustrated and pissed off. I want to grab the whole world by the collar and shake it. How the hell does the govt and so-called adults let this keep happening? Like, people in power can’t be bothered to give a crap about anything but money, and the rest of the people let them get away with it.

  Landon: Sorry. Didn’t mean to go all soapbox on you.

  Brian: I guess it’s always gonna be someone else’s problem, someone else’s school. Until it isn’t.

  Landon: I guess. Anyway. You don’t need to be stressing when you’re trying to get better.

  Brian: No, I want to talk about it. My family won’t and it drives me nuts.

  I paused at that. It was impossible to imagine. Not only did my parents talk about it nonstop, but I had great friends, and we’d been on the phone or hanging out a lot together, supporting one another, just getting through it. Didn’t Brian have a ton of friends? Then again, I’d seen him sitting with Cameron and Gordo, and they were two of the biggest douchenozzles in school. And Jake was gone. It had to suck dealing with losing his best friend on top of recovering from a serious injury himself. I really felt for the guy.

  I hesitated over what to say next.

  Landon: It was nice to see you up and around. That’s one good thing that came out of today.

  Brian: Thanks to you.

  Landon: I had no clue what I was doing, honestly. I’m sure a lot of it was down to your strength and will to live. You know?

  Okay, that sounded emo, but it was too late to rewrite it. Brian started to type. I could see the dots. He stopped and started again several times. I chewed a fingernail and stared at the screen.

  Brian: It’s gonna be hard going back to school.

  Landon: Yeah. It is. Will you be back on the 15th?

  Brian: Probably not. Dr. says it’ll be a few more weeks.

  Landon: You don’t need more surgery or a transplant or anything?

  Brian: Nope. Didn’t lose anything I can’t live without.

  Brian: Well, nothing physical anyway. Lol

  There was something awful about that. I frowned and rubbed my chest.

  Landon: Should I let you get back to Netflix?

  As the dots danced, I got a nervous flutter in my stomach. I didn’t really want to go, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, either.

  Brian: Eh. Not that into it. Jessica Jones. You seen it?

  Landon: First two episodes. Seems like you’d be into it.

  Brian: Why?

  Landon: She’s hot?

  Brian: Not my type. I love Marvel usually but not feeling it.

  Landon: What else do you like to watch?

  Brian: Horror. Action. I like old Schwarzenegger stuff. The Rock.

  Landon: Have you seen Let The Right One In? The original. It’s subtitled. And it’s on Netflix.

  Brian: Is that the one with the vampire chick?

  Landon: Yup. Waif-y lil preteen bloodsucker.

  Brian: Never saw the original.

  Landon: It’s amazing! Even if you don’t like subtitles.

  The dots danced, stopped, danced, stopped, danced again. Whatever Brian was going to say, he was hesitant about it.

  Brian: Wanna watch it now?

  I swallowed. What did he mean?

  Landon: You mean, from here? Like synchronized viewing?

  Brian: LOL. Yeah. Without the moving part. If you’re in the mood to watch it.

  Landon: Yeah, actually. Today was rough. I could use the distraction. Need to grab some food though. Start in 15?

  Brian: Cool.

  I tossed down the phone. I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror as I bounced off the bed. I had a shy grin on my face. It surprised me. It had been a while since I’d smiled, and I felt a tiny bit guilty about it. I’d been to two funerals that day, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t be smiling.

  Then again, things had been so dark and horrible. Shouldn’t I appreciate the good moments when they happened? I was going to watch a movie with Brian Marshall, however virtual it may be. That was pretty cool. Probably he just didn’t want to be alone. Maybe we both needed company. Maybe we both needed a break from despair.

  I started downstairs to grab something to eat and met my mom on the way up. She had a plate of food—a toasted turkey and cheese sandwich with a side of cut-up fruit and a lemonade.

  “Hey, thanks!” I took the plate.

  She raised her eyebrows. “You look better, honey.”

  “I’m gonna watch a movie with a friend. Over the phone.”

  “Oh good. Madison?”

  I shook my head and bounded back upstairs with the food. I settled on the bed, plugged in my earphones, and found the movie on Netflix.

  Landon: All set. Tell me when to press play.

  Brian: Go for it.

  Brian was chatty through the movie, sending comments like, No way or That is sick or Damn! I wish she was on our football team. And I sent things like, I love this part or Get rdy for gross.

  I worried when the bloody scenes came on, wondering if suggesting this movie had been such a great idea. But Brian didn’t seem bothered by it. Toward the end, he texted, How did I miss this flick? Good pick L.

  “L.” Yeah, it was just text-speak, but it still gave me a little thrill to be given a nickname by Brian. When it was done, he said good night, and I turned off my phone.

  I lay there in bed, looking at the ceiling. I told myself it was no big deal. But part of me wondered—was this a thing now? Were we friends? Did Brian even need me as a friend? Or was it a blip that would vanish once life returned to normal—or what would pass for normal in the post-Wall-tragedy world?

  The connection I’d felt when Brian lay on that cafeteria floor and I looked into his eyes was crazy, though. It had been like two people clinging together in a vast, stormy sea full of sharks. I’d felt that connection today at Jake’s funeral too, for a few brief moments. It was so intense, something that went right past all the normal barriers people put up. Maybe it was because we’d both been stunned out of our gourds by the scene that day and all our defenses had been crushed, obliterated. In that moment, we’d both been completely naked and open and just… two human beings fighting to survive, needing to show, feel, love and care, tenderness and compassion, in a world that was so violent and ugly.

  I didn’t know what would happen with Brian. The obsessive planner part of my brain was uneasy with that. I liked things to be predictable, routine, like having lunch every day with Madison and Josiah. I liked boxes: friends, parents, classmates, teachers. I wasn’t sure what box fit Brian, or if he’d need a new box entirely. Straight-guy-whose-
life-I-saved-who-I-absolutely-cannot-lust-over.

  Then it occurred to me: my past, orderly life was pretty much torpedoed anyway. Possibly all my boxes would need to be rebuilt from the ground up.

  Chapter 8

  Brian

  THERE WAS a knock on my door. “Brian? You have a visitor!” Mom’s voice was cheerful.

  I hit Pause on the movie I was watching and struggled to sit up in bed. “Who is it?”

  “Come downstairs and see!” She walked away before I could ask her for deets.

  Gee, that was helpful. Please, God, don’t let it be Reverend Arnold. Or Dad’s friend Bull. Or Coach Baker. Or a reporter. Yesterday, Jake’s mom and dad had stopped by to bring me cookies and a few things I’d left at Jake’s place. We’d talked about Jake, and we’d cried, and I’d apologized over and over. It’d been awful. So I really didn’t think I could deal with anything heavy today.

  I got out of bed carefully and sniffed my pits. Whoa, I was rank. I hadn’t showered since I got home from Jake’s funeral on Thursday. Today was what—Wednesday? Almost a week.

  I hadn’t done much of anything, to be honest. But I was recovering from surgery, so that was allowed. My PJs were disgusting. I dragged the T-shirt over my head, moving slowly to minimize the pull on my gut. I changed into a clean pair of sweatpants, clean T-shirt, and finger-combed my hair in the mirror.

  I looked like hell. My tan had faded, and I had a slightly gray, zombie-ish thing going on. My hair was greasy and flat. Sick-bed couture.

  But maybe it was Cameron and Gordo, and they wouldn’t care. Or possibly someone else from the football team. Or… Landon? I hadn’t spoken to or texted with him since we’d watched Let the Right One In the night of Jake’s funeral. I didn’t want to keep bugging him, and he hadn’t texted me. But the thought that he might have come by to see me made my empty stomach clench with anticipation. It would be nice to hang out with a friend for a while. I was so bored I could hardly stand myself.

  As I left my room, I had a flash of myself walking into the family room downstairs and finding a gunman, all in black, pointing a black rifle at me. A stab of fear pinned my feet to the hallway floor for a moment, sent my heart spiraling, and nearly turned me around.

  Stop it. Just fucking stop it. I was so tired of the crap my brain kept throwing at me. The devil on my shoulder had turned into a masochist asshole.

  I made myself keep going. When I stepped down into the family room, I saw the back of a slim, dark-haired girl in a green plaid miniskirt and red sweater.

  Jennifer.

  My heart sank. “Hey,” I said.

  She turned and gave me a smile. “Hey, Brian!”

  She came over and hugged me, clinging. She was tall for a girl and the same height as me. I put my hands on her back but held her loosely. She pressed against me for a moment, her breasts firm on my chest.

  “Wow. What a surprise,” I said, taking a step back to look at her. Understatement of the year.

  My mom, I noticed, had left us alone. Thanks, Mom. There were two glasses of iced tea on the coffee table. I sat down on the couch, feeling slightly light-headed. The Wall’s star quarterback done in by a walk down a flight of stairs. Fantastic.

  Jennifer sat next to me, as close as she could get. She was so pretty. Like Selena Gomez pretty. Her peaches-and-cream skin looked dewy, her big brown eyes soft with worry. I felt guilty for not being happier to see her. But then I remembered why I wasn’t.

  I picked up a glass and sipped some iced tea.

  “God, Bri! I freaked when I heard you were shot and in intensive care. I wanted to be with you, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.” She bit her lip with a worried frown.

  “I heard you went out of town.”

  “Well, yeah. My folks thought it would be good for me to get away for a few days. With the tragedy and all. I was pretty messed up.” Her frown deepened, and her gaze went far away for a minute.

  “Were you in class when it happened?”

  She nodded. “B-Wing. We were the first to hear the shots, I guess. We heard them before the PA announcement. And Mrs. Obermeyer locked the door and pulled the shade. They shot through the door, though, like, one burst, but she was shot in the arm. And she was just bleeding. And then it took forever before we got the all clear. They made us walk out in a line. There were two classrooms near us that had been hit hard, and I got a glimpse through the door and there was all this blood.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. And I was.

  Jen nodded, and her face brightened a little. “Mrs. Obermeyer’s okay now, though. And so are you. Oh, Bri.”

  She hugged me again, twisting into me and half climbing into my lap. Her body was warm and a bit sweaty, and she shivered with emotion.

  I should like this. I should love it. But even in the early days of our relationship, I’d never responded to Jen the way a normal guy would. The way I wished like hell I could respond.

  Anyone who says the head rules the body is full of shinola, as my dad would say. The heart might want what the heart wants, but the dick absolutely rules the clubhouse.

  “Jen….” I pushed her gently away. “I’m still sore.”

  I saw her nose wrinkle a little. Yeah, get a good whiff, baby. I’m ripe as hell.

  She managed to put her hand on my thigh even though I was still holding her upper arms. “You poor thing. There must be some way I can help you feel better.”

  Her hand moved up and inward, making it clear what she was offering. I stood up quickly. The move caused an ache in my stomach, but whatever. “Sorry. I’m still recovering from surgery.”

  Her face softened. “Oh. I’m sorry, baby. You’re right. I just wanted to be close to you. I nearly lost you. Come on. Sit down.” She patted the couch. “Maybe I could massage your shoulders a little?”

  “Jen….” I huffed in frustration. “We broke up. Remember?”

  She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, Brian. I was there. But maybe I didn’t realize how much I cared about you until you were shot. Jesus. Don’t you feel like… like you have to rethink everything now?”

  I nodded.

  She stood up and stepped close, taking my hand, her face soft and vulnerable. “Maybe we should get back together. Support each other. I could be there for you, you know. If you’re gonna be on crutches or whatever.”

  I stared at her for a moment. Could we get back together? It would be nice to have someone at school, someone to walk the halls with now that Jake was gone. Someone to give a shit when I was losing my mind, when eating a few bites of food made me curl up in pain.

  But as sweet as Jen was being, I knew that would be a mistake. There was no road for us that didn’t lead to the same dead end. I tugged my hand away.

  “I don’t think I could forget what happened with Reynolds,” I said quietly, not trying to be cruel. “And I’m not really what you want anyway, Jen.”

  She glowered. “Maybe I cheated on you because you constantly pushed me away or ignored me. Like you’re doing right now!”

  The old me would have argued with her, gotten pissed off. But it all seemed so petty now. Her and Reynolds in the back of the bus coming back from Youngstown while I’d been dozing in the front. Everybody else figuring out what had happened before I did. Her and I screaming at each other in the hall at school. Like, who really gave a shit who jerked off who when people were dead?

  Besides, Jen was absolutely right. I’d strung her along and held her at a distance at the same time.

  “It’s true. I was a crap boyfriend. I’m sorry, Jen. Maybe we’d be better as friends.”

  She huffed and looked away, biting her lip. Finally, she rolled her eyes. “I know you’re right. I just… I feel like everything’s changed. And I want—” She stopped with a shake of her head.

  Want something solid? Want to go back in time? Me too.

  “Thanks for coming to see me. It was sweet. I appreciate it.”

  She shrugged. “My mo
m sent along a cake from the bakery. I gave it to your mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  She leaned in and kissed my cheek. For a moment, her head rested on my shoulder. “God, Bri. What are we going to do?” she whispered in my ear.

  I shook my head. I had no idea.

  After she left, I went back up to my room, hand on my side, limping a little. Honestly, the pain was much better. The incision, when my mom made me rebandage it, looked like it was healing well. And there were no signs of infection, no fever or changes in, well, output. No blood in the bowl. I still felt like shit, achy and without any motivation to do anything but lie in bed and read, play video games, or watch a movie. Anything to escape the thoughts in my own head.

  When I got back upstairs, Mom was in my room, just finishing changing my bed.

  She looked up, and her mouth turned down on one corner. “That was fast. Is Jen gone already?”

  I’d suspected my mom had called Jen’s mom. Now I knew it for sure. “Mom, we broke up. I wish you hadn’t called her.”

  She finished smoothing the comforter and sat on the bed. The set of her face told me I was in for a lecture. “Then who can I call, Brian? I think it would be good for you to see some friends. What about those boys you and… and Jake used to hang out with?” God, she could hardly say Jake’s name.

  “I don’t want to see Cameron and Gordo. I don’t want to see anyone.”

  “There isn’t another girl you were seeing before…?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “Well. Hopefully, Dr. Berger will clear you to go back to school soon. I know you’re not excited about going back, and I’m not happy about it either. I wish I could keep you home forever. But the police promised they’ll provide extra protection until the shooters are caught. And I’m sure your dad is right—it’ll be good for you to be with your friends again, get back to normal.”

  I almost said: “Yeah, because the last time I hung out with my friends at school, it went so well.” But I refrained. Her expression was so earnest, like she wanted to believe it, like she wanted to trust what the cops said, what Dad said. She wanted to pretend it would all be okay. Maybe she had to pretend.