but not really at that, more at the face looking unblinking up into the rain. The face that was virtually his own, especially with the identical haircuts they had gotten the weekend before. Why had they done that? They both hated being mistaken for each other, even though it happened a lot. But no, Luke had a test that week, Wednesday the Fifteenth, social studies, and he had begged and pleaded and cajoled long enough that finally John gave in. They switched clothes after sixth period and John took the test. Then they headed home through the rain on each others' Mopeds.
And standing down looking at his brother, well, it must not have registered, because all he could think was how he was going to explain why their clothes, their wallets, their Mopeds, were switched, because certainly their parents would know. Certainly. But grief makes you blind, hadn't a counselor said that once too? Anyway, by then it was too late. His mother had already explained her guilt over loving Luke more than his brother.
For a minute he thinks he's standing there again, looking down at his brother lying on the damp, black pavement. But this time it really is his face, and he's not alone. There is no pickup driver with a bloody nose blinking in a battered truck, but there is Jewely and Kaiser leaning over him, kneeling beside him on the asphalt. One arm is still clenched over his head, holding the spool of burnt black string. He looks at his left foot, shoeless, with a huge red welt on the bottom and he thinks, Christ, that's odd. Cole and the Bills are standing beside him, looking down at him too, and Cole is mumbling "Holy, holy, holy," over and over again, but it is drowned out when Jewely starts stammering, "Luke? Luke?" She turns to Kaiser and demands, "Can I touch him?" and Kaiser shrugs helplessly, but she does, on the shoulder, then the face, still saying that name, and his vision starts to double.
And then he's looking up at her, with Kaiser and the others behind, and for a second he's looking at himself from two directions. Then the figure between Cole and the Bills fades and it is just him, just him alone, again.
"Luke!" Jewely says with clear relief and she leans forward on him heavier and he groans. His ribs feel like something has exploded in his chest, and there is a jagged purple line down the center of his vision.
"Luke?" Jewely says, letting up on him, but he mumbles, "No."
"Lucas, man, Jesus," Kaiser says. "You all right, man?"
"No," he croaks.
"What, what's wrong?" Jewely asks, filling his vision with her face again.
"I'm not Luke," John says. "I never was."
Little bits of red fabric and smoldering trails of ash flutter to the earth, hissing out unnoticed on the wet street.
DRAIN BAMAGE
Eddie's Shorts - Volume 2 Page 4
