“Oh,” she said. “Then I’ll go. You can run off to your next class like a good little student.” She sounded downright angry with me. I didn’t get it. But in a split second she was up and gone. I was left sitting alone in the library.
I went to history and then math, and after that the Accessibus was at the school door, ready to take me to my physio session with Ahmad. I rolled into the room and saw he wasn’t alone. There was a sorry-looking kid sitting in a chair beside him.
“I brought someone to meet you,” Ahmad said. “Nick, this is Ocean.”
The name struck me as totally crazy. Ahmad saw the look on my face. “I know. Everyone here reacts the same way. Ocean is his real name. It’s quite a common one in Syria, but you can call him O.C. That seems to go over better here.”
“Hello,” the kid said. “Nice to meet you.”
I would say he was maybe fourteen, but he could have been younger.
“Hi, O.C. Nice to meet you.” I turned to Ahmad. “Your cousin, right?”
“Yes. O.C. has only been with us for a few days. I’m trying to teach him the ropes. I wanted him to meet you, to get to know you.”
Ocean looked me up and down.
“How’s life?” I asked.
“Better,” he said. His accent was strong.
“You understand English?”
“Of course. Lots of school time. Want to ask me something hard?”
I figured I had insulted him by asking about his English. Everyone he met probably asked him the same damn thing. “No,” I said. “You like it here?”
“I don’t know yet. Ahmad, Eva and my aunt have been kind to me.”
“Me too,” I said.
“How long?” the kid asked, nodding at my chair.
“A few months,” I said. Like the kid, I wasn’t keen on a lot of personal questions, I guess. I toggled the control and swiveled back and forth like a silly little dance.
O.C. smiled. “Cool,” he said.
“Not really. It’d be much more cool if batteries and motors weren’t involved.”
“O.C.,” Ahmad said, “Nick showed you his. You want to show him yours?” It struck me as a totally bizarre thing for Ahmad to say.
O.C. let out a little snicker, and I was thinking I should get the hell out of there. But then he pulled up his pant leg and kicked off his shoe. He had an artificial leg.
“He hates it,” Ahmad said. “I keep telling him it just takes time. A lot of time.”
O.C. glared at his cousin. “It’s not just this,” he snarled. “I don’t think some things ever heal.”
“The prosthesis is still new,” Ahmad told me. “He says he prefers the crutches.”
“I got used to them, at least.”
Ahmad turned to me and started to tell the story. “Ocean lost—” he began.
“Shut up, Ahmad,” the kid snapped, and Ahmad did. “If the story has to be told to this stranger, I should at least be the one to tell it.”
I looked at the kid—a really angry kid now. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” I knew exactly how he felt. At least, I thought I did.
“What I lost was my entire family. Both my parents and my little sister.” He paused and then pointed to his leg. “And this. An explosive buried in the road.”
I didn’t know what to say. Had Ahmad introduced me to O.C. so I could see that someone was maybe worse off than I was? If so, that really made me mad.
“What is this about?” I asked Ahmad. He heard the rising pitch in my voice. “You think this is going to help me somehow?”
Right then I didn’t give a rat’s ass about O.C. or Ahmad.
“No, damn it!” Ahmad was close to shouting, which surprised me. “I want you to help us.”
O.C. slapped his prosthesis and pulled his pant leg down. “I don’t want his help,” he said defiantly, looking straight at me.
That’s when I decided I really liked this strange new kid.
Chapter Fourteen
O.C. limped off to a corner of the room, sat down at a computer and pulled up a video game. He set the sound as loud as he could and started shooting.
“How’s he know about video games?”
“He knows about a lot of things. We weren’t exactly cut off from the world over there. We were just caught in the middle of a conflict that tore our country apart.”
“He’s lost everything and wants to play a video game?”
“No, he wants everything to go back to the way it was. But it won’t.”
I looked over at O.C. He didn’t look back. He was totally absorbed in his game.
Ahmad changed the subject. “Tell me about the pain in your legs.”
So I was here for my therapy session after all. I told him about the rough nights I’d had recently.
“Did you hear from your doctor about having more tests?” Ahmad asked as he helped me move through my exercises.
“Yeah, but they can’t get me in until next week.”
“Then you’ll have to hang in there.”
We continued the exercises, but getting through them was more painful than normal. Normal. Huh.
“You got something for the pain?” I asked.
I smiled. He didn’t like that. “Be careful,” he said. “Don’t overdo it. It’s very easy to get dependent on the painkillers.”
“Yeah, man, I know.”
Ahmad looked at me for a long moment. “Okay, I think that’s enough for today. Why don’t I drive you home in the van? Ocean, c’mon. Let’s go.”
“I get to ride in the front!” said O.C.
I loved the van owned by the clinic. It was a step up from the old thing my dad had bought, with its noisy hydraulic lift that drew the attention of kids at school or anyone within a one-block radius. Ahmad guided me to the lift and let me pull the lever, and I went up, rolled into the open floor space and locked in my chair.
The kid looked a bit more lively as he started to climb into the front seat, but then he stumbled. He saved himself from a face-plant by grabbing the door. I could hear him cursing under his breath.
As we backed out of the parking lot, Ahmad put on some loud music—Middle Eastern, I figured. It had a pretty decent dance beat. Both Ahmad and O.C. sang along. Badly. I was an outsider, an intruder, but it felt good nonetheless.
When we got to my house, I asked O.C. if he wanted to come in to see my room, but he said, “No way.” I respected that.
Once inside, I felt shooting pain again. This time it went from my knees all the way up to my neck. I downed some pills and waited for it to subside.
I got a text from Keira.
Found Landon. Can I come over?
Keira had never been to my house. She was sure to freak out my mom.
Now?
Now.
OK.
Chapter Fifteen
My bedroom got moved to the first floor of my house after the accident. It had been my parents’ bedroom, and I’d never quite felt comfortable there, but it made sense. My mom was upstairs reading in my old room when I saw Keira at the door. I rolled out and invited her in before she could hit the doorbell.
“Nice house,” she said. “At least, a whole lot nicer than my place.”
Keira, I had learned, lived with her mother in an apartment complex known to be the hangout of crack addicts and hookers. So I guess my suburban-bland split-level looked pretty good to her.
“Follow me,” I said. I led her into my bedroom and closed the door.
She gave me a weird look. “If you’re thinking of trying to take advantage of me, you are sadly mistaken.”
I guess I gave her a weird look back.
“I was joking,” she said.
“Not funny,” I replied. “Not funny at all. But thanks for coming over. What’d you find out?”
“I took the bus to the Coventry ambulance place and caught the Landon woman when she was on break.”
I had a sudden flashback to the paramedic leaning over me. Her face
was clear in my mind now, even though I had not recalled much of anything about the ambulance ride until this moment. “I remember something. The last time I saw her, she looked worried. And scared too. I remember her hands were shaking. I heard her yell to the driver, ‘Go faster. I think we’re losing him.’ ”
“Him meaning you.”
“What was left of me.”
“She remembered you. She kept saying to me something about you being so young. ‘What a waste.’”
The words had a strange echo inside my head. Wasted. As if what was left of me didn’t matter. “How did they find me?”
“At first she was a bit fuzzy on the details. There was that anonymous 9-1-1 call telling them to go to the end of Fraser Road out by Delbert Point. When they got there, at first they saw nothing. No sign of anybody. And then this crazy old man jumped right out in front of them. They nearly ran him over.”
“The Wreck,” I said.
“The what?”
“The Wreck. He’s an old surfer who lives out there. His real name is Arnold or Arnie.”
“Landon said he was crazy. Totally incoherent. She got out of the ambulance, and he grabbed her arm. She tried to push him away but realized he was leading her someplace. To you. On the beach.”
The realization made the blood drain from my head. “It was him. No one else was around. He would have seen me in the ocean, seen me wipe out. He must have somehow got me ashore.”
“And saved your life.”
“Jesus.” And then I was silent.
Keira studied my face. “What’s going on?”
“We always treated him like crap. Crazy old goof. He was always lecturing us, telling us where to paddle out, where to sit, which waves to pick. He had an old dinged-up board and wore this patched old wetsuit. Lived alone in an old camper and seemed really paranoid of the police.”
“Sounds like you owe him an apology.”
“More than that. Do you have any idea what it was like out there that day? The waves, the currents, the ocean pounding over jagged rocks?”
“If it was so bad, why were you in the water?”
“To prove something to myself.”
“Why do guys always have to say that?”
“I’d had some serious wipeouts before in big waves. Hold-downs underwater where you can’t claw your way to the top. I thought I could handle it. But when I went down that time, I hit bottom. It all went black. I can’t remember a thing.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“But I want to know. I need to know what happened next.”
“Why?”
“I don’t really know. I just do.”
“Then we need to talk to this guy. This Wreck.”
“Yeah, we need to talk to Arnie.” I wheeled myself to my closet and grabbed a coat. I looked at Keira in her flimsy denim jacket. I grabbed another winter coat and threw it at her.
Chapter Sixteen
My mom had left the keys to the van in the bowl by the door as usual. I looked upstairs and saw that the light was out in my old bedroom. She must have been taking a nap. “Come on,” I said to Keira. “Can you drive a van?”
“You mean that thing sitting in your driveway?”
“I bet it’s a whole lot more dependable than that junk heap you drove to school.”
“Screw you. You want me to drive or what?”
“Please. I want you to drive.”
The hydraulic lift groaned and squeaked as it lifted me into the back. I prayed it didn’t wake my mom. Keira had a difficult time backing us out of the driveway, but soon we were on the street, and I was directing her to Fraser Road.
Keira was a nervous driver, looking in her rearview mirror every few seconds. “If we get stopped, you can’t let the cops get me for stealing this.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Girl helps gimp. The police will buy it. They’ll understand.”
“Don’t use that stupid word,” she said.
Which was funny, because she was the one who’d used it first.
Keira was no ace at driving but not bad considering she didn’t even have a driver’s license. She got us there. I remembered where Arnie’s old camper van was usually parked—past the end of Fraser Road in a patch of low, wind-whipped trees half hidden from sight. The only problem was, you couldn’t drive there in the van. There was a long patch of sand between the end of the road and his camper. No way could I get there in my chair.
Keira pulled to a skidding stop on some loose stones. I pointed her toward the stand of scrubby trees, and off she went.
I rolled myself to the back of the van, opened the doors and lowered myself onto the cracked pavement. Keira had disappeared from view. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and it was dead silent.
And then I heard someone yelling. A man’s voice in a high-pitched kind of scream. “Get out!” he said. It was Arnie’s voice. The Wreck. The crazy old bastard we all had made fun of. We’d goaded him in the water sometimes if he was bold enough to surf in our midst. We’d teased him, bullied him even. He was a paranoid old dude and an easy target. We’d been jerks.
“No!” I heard him shout again. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see anybody. Just get out!”
I started to worry about Keira’s safety. What if the old goon hit her or something? What good was I, stuck in my wheelchair? No way to cross the sand to where she was. I felt my fists tighten with frustration. Then I heard Keira’s voice, as loud as his. No, maybe louder, more powerful.
“Shut up!” she shouted. “Shut up and just listen.”
And then there was silence.
I unclenched my fists and squeezed the rails of my chair. I took three deep breaths and tried to focus.
I saw Keira walking toward me. The Wreck was right behind her, weaving a bit back and forth, muttering something. But headed in my direction.
Keira looked a little shaken but defiant. She stopped in front of me and rolled her eyes, then walked off to the side. The Wreck, Arnie, stopped in his tracks. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open. He stared at me with a kind of crazed confusion, and then his expression changed.
“You,” he said. “It’s you.”
“I-I wanted to thank—” I stammered.
“You wanted to what?” he interrupted. “You wanted to thank me?”
“Yes.”
He looked long and hard at me now. Looked me in the eyes and then stared at my legs. He had a kind of maniacal half smile. Then he turned dead serious. “I didn’t do you any favors, did I?” he snapped. Then, turning to Keira, he shouted, “Get him out of here!” He spun around in a circle and then spoke to the sky. “Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
Arnie started walking back toward the bush where his camper was, shuffling his feet in the sand. But then he stopped, walked quickly back to me and leaned in. “And don’t tell the police where my camper is, you hear?” he said threateningly. He clapped his hands once for emphasis and then tromped off.
Keira tried to stop him, but Arnie pushed her away.
“I can see why they call him the Wreck,” she said as we watched him hobble off. Then she shrugged, and her tone changed. “I do get it though. He’s scared. He doesn’t trust anyone. Maybe he has a good reason not to.”
“I can see that. The guy’s always been a little nuts, but I still need to talk to him.”
She nodded in his direction. “His camper—it looked like somebody tried to burn it or something.”
I shook my head. “Someone is always trying to harass the poor old guy. Surfers sometimes, but the nasty punks from town are worse. They drive out here and try to spook him. God knows what he’s had to put up with.”
“But he said not to tell the police where he lives.”
I laughed. “The police know he’s out here living in his camper van. They don’t care. He doesn’t bother anyone. They leave him alone.”
“So what do we do now?” Keira asked, looking defeated.
“I
will have to try again some other time. He’s too agitated right now. We need to get the van back before anyone realizes it’s gone,” I said.
Chapter Seventeen
My mom walked out of the house as soon as we pulled in. She looked pretty upset. This spooked Keira. As soon as she shut off the engine, she tossed me the keys. “I’m out of here. I know an angry mother when I see one.” She opened the door and hopped out without saying anything else. And then she ran.
My mom walked to the van and opened the door. She had a scowl on her like I hadn’t seen in a long while. She helped me onto the lift and down to the driveway before she spoke. “Who’s the girl?” she asked.
“A friend,” I said.
“Why did she run away?”
I shrugged.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No. Just a friend.”
And then she said a funny thing. “A good friend?”
“A real good friend,” I answered. “And I can explain.”
But instead of letting me talk, she leaned over and kissed me on the top of the head. “Let’s just not mention this to your father, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
I didn’t sleep much that night. I woke up with an image of Arnie’s crazed and paranoid face in my head. And then I had a dream that I was normal. That I was walking again. In the morning I had the familiar shooting pains in my legs and had to take some more pills.
Ahmad called my doctor and asked if the tests could be done sooner. I got a call and was told I could get them that week. “Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Ahmad advised, “but don’t give up either.”
I was beginning to think the therapy wasn’t doing a damn thing. My upper body was stronger, sure, but down below it was all dead—except for those occasional shooting pains.
Keira was acting weird at school and didn’t say much to me. “Problems at home,” was all she said when I asked. But she was pretty cold to me, and I wondered if I had done something. I decided to just ask her outright. Her answer was right out of a textbook.
The Ledge Page 4
