But it hurts to breathe. It hurts to feel. Jamie and Haley flash through my brain. What am I doing here? My eyes are burning, but I don’t want to cry. I reach for the bottle, still on the cold, dirty sidewalk.
“Lexington,” Coach says to me, showing me the bottle he has in his hand. I stand as he glances down in the paper bag. “Son, what are you doing?”
He shakes his head.
“I wasn’t even sure if I was gonna drink it.”
“But you bought it,” he says.
“I didn’t open it.”
“But you were thinking about it?”
“Still am,” I say.
Coach points down the road. “Get in my car, son,” he says to me. I nod and don’t say anything else. I know better than to mess with Coach. We walk side by side until he gets into the car, starts the ignition, and neither of us say a damn word as he drives.
Coach takes us all the way back to Culler, to the football field, and parks right on the edge of the entrance. “Get out.” It’s the first thing he’s said since we left Lane. I follow him out toward the end zone, and once we’re there, he stops.
He moves so he’s standing real close to me and rips the bag off. He holds that bottle out in the air in front of my face. “Right about now you owe me your future,” he says. Coach shakes his head and looks at the bottle, then at me. “Because I just saved your ass, son. What’d you plan to do with this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Two options, drink it or don’t drink it. What do you want right now?”
I can taste it on my tongue, and my stomach churns. “Right now I don’t want it.”
“But you bought it and were gonna drive with it in your car when you’re underage and shouldn’t be buying it anyway. Or worse, it was gonna call to you and you were gonna give in and drink it while you drove.”
I don’t say anything because I honestly don’t know what would’ve or could’ve happened. Maybe he’s right. What was I doing?
He tosses the bottle onto the AstroTurf. “Me, and this field, this game, we’ve saved your life. Without pushing you to be the best on this field, you’d have quit and you’d be dead in a ditch. Is that what you want?”
I don’t answer and instead I look out the side of my eye toward the bottle. He’s right. All it’s done is ruin my life, not save it.
Coach gets in my face. “Is it?” His voice echoes in the empty stadium.
“No, sir, it’s not!” I yell it back. It feels good to yell.
“Then where is your brain?” he yells at me.
“It’s here, sir.”
He smacks me on the side of the head. “Then use it, Jake!”
Coach exhales and takes a step back. “Look at me, son. Listen to me real good and make sure you hear every word,” he says and then pauses. We’re looking each other square in the eyes, and my heart races in the silence. There are very few people in this world who know me and whose opinions of me truly matter; Coach is one of them. “This is your last chance.”
He points over toward the bottle on the ground. “You can pick that up tonight and go. Or you can walk away from it. There are no answers to life in there, even though it might be easier. Trust me on this, it’s harder. You of all people should know that.” He looks out over the horizon and falls silent. The sound of Culler fills the air. My eyes drift from him and back to the bottle. All the problems it has brought me, starting with Jamie, and it could cost me a future or even cost me Haley.
“What do you want?” Coach finally asks me.
“I don’t want that,” I say. And I really mean it.
“Do push-ups. Now,” he says.
I don’t delay; I just get down on the ground and go.
“Then this is your future. You’re eighteen and out of passes, out of excuses. No matter what happens, no matter how hard it is, you don’t get to give up. You hear me?”
“Yes, I do, sir,” I call between push-ups.
His voice gets louder. “I don’t think you do. You’re mad at the world, son, and you’re mad at yourself. You got to let that go.”
My arms are starting to burn. “I don’t know how.”
“Figure it out! Or it will kill you,” he yells. He gets down on the ground so he is face-to-face with me and yells, “Forgive yourself.”
“I can’t!” and it’s really the first time I’ve said it out loud.
Coach yells so loud he spits in my face a little. “Then don’t expect anyone else to. You want Howell to stop being pissed about his sister?” I look at him mid push-up, and he raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, I know y’all are at it like dogs, and I told you about that, too. You wanna be over it? Then be someone he’s proud of.”
I can’t bring myself up for another push-up. My arms are burning, and sweat drops down into my eyes. Coach walks around me in a circle. “You want to get out of this town and be more than your dad? Then do it for yourself.”
His voice gets louder. “You want the girl, you’ve got to earn her.”
Coach blows his whistle for me to stop. He kneels to look me in the eyes. “I promise you this, you can’t do none of that when you’re hiding in a bottle and feeling guilty, when you’re blowing your chances at life. You’re eighteen. You don’t want a possession charge on your name.”
Coach grabs my chin so I have to look at him. “You hear me?”
I push down the feelings swirling up into my chest. Worry. Anger. Sadness. Fear. My arms ache, but I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“You want to be better? You want to be more?”
I do want what he says, and it gets stuck in my throat so I have to repeat it. “Yes, sir.”
“You sure? It’s not going to be easy.”
“I’m sure.”
“You want it?”
“I do.”
“Do you?” he yells.
“Yes!”
“Do you!?” he shouts even louder.
“Yes, sir!” I yell back.
“Then show me. I want you to run,” he says. I lock eyes with him. “Run, Jake. Take all that with you, and when we step off this field, you leave it all here. You don’t pick any of it back up. You hear me?”
I gulp. “Yes, sir.”
“Put all that emotion into your legs and run, son. Run and cry. Run and scream. Run and do whatever you need to do in order to make your brain understand.” And then he blows the whistle, and I’m off.
The wind is cold in my face, but I run anyway. Around the field in laps. I think about Haley, about what I want to be for her and what she deserves and how she makes me feel. I think about Jamie and how he got where he is. About Chris hating me right now for lying. About Seth, who didn’t deserve to die. My mom and how when she left we lost two parents. I think about the Howells’ perfect house and the life I will never have, but the one I want. I think about myself. How I’m a shitty brother, and the mistakes I’ve made over the last few months and how I became this thing that I am.
I hate it.
It’s no wonder why everyone else does, too.
I cry while I run. At least I think I do. It’s a little hard to tell between the sweat and the tears. I think I’m crying. My chest hurts like I’m crying.
I think of Haley while I run. She makes my life better, and I’ve lost her. I don’t want to lose her. I need her light in my life, her smile, her laugh, the cute way she curls up her nose and her nervous tick of putting her hair behind her ears. I need her positivity. Her love for others. Her quest to make herself better. I love all those things about her.
I love her.
I can’t lose her.
And it’s what I’ve done.
I’ve also lost my best friend because I handled everything wrong. I should’ve been more. I need to be more for her, to prove to Howell that I will be good to his sister. To prove it to myself.
I run until it hurts to breathe and my legs are jelly and my hair is sticking to my face. I run past where I thought I could. I run until Coach blows the whist
le and I fall to my knees in front of him.
My whole body hurts. My soul hurts. My head is pounding.
Finally, for the first time, I can breathe.
“Thank you,” I say.
Coach shakes his head. “Don’t.”
Once I am back to my truck, I look at those missed texts from hours ago. The first is from Jamie asking where I am, and the other is from Howell. He hasn’t texted me in weeks now, so I open his first. Is he apologizing? Is it about the game?
Haley had an accident. We’re at the hospital.
I put the truck in drive and go.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Haley
I can’t feel my toes.
The hospital is freezing, and it’s one of those bone-deep chills. They haven’t given me any more blankets, even though I’ve asked twice now. My toes are sticking out from under the covers. No one seems to notice. I’m dizzy from a mild concussion, and my ribs are bruised. My parents are busy being doctors rather than paying attention to me. No one seems to care about my toes, and it’s a really dumb thing to focus on but it’s the only thing I have any control over in this room. Maybe even my whole life right now.
I reach down with a groan. I forgot about those bruised ribs.
“Haley!” Mom calls, rushing over to me. “What’s wrong?”
“You really shouldn’t make movements like that right now, it’s going to be painful,” Dr. Chavez says. I have to keep from rolling my eyes, because I didn’t figure that out.
Mom places her palm on my cheek, and I lean back, giving up on my toes.
This day really came with a lot of fun hits.
“What do you need?” Daddy asks.
I don’t know, and he’s not a big fan of that answer. Thankfully my brother saunters into the room at that moment, a bag of delicious-smelling food in hand.
“Double bacon with cheese fries.” He holds it out to me.
I am so hungry that this makes my mouth water. Dad rolls the food tray up in front of me, and Chris puts it down. Mom tries to open the bag, but I give her this look and she backs away. I’m not helpless. I can eat my own burger.
“And an Elvis shake,” Chris says, placing it beside the rest. It looks good, but it’s still cold in here. Maybe too cold for even that. I look down toward my toes, and they’re still exposed.
“Thank you,” I say, then I stuff a bite of that delicious burger into my mouth.
Dr. Simon and my parents leave us to talk shop, and normally it’d bug me but I’m okay because I have bacon.
Chris watches me from his chair.
“What?”
“You could’ve died.”
“I didn’t,” I say.
“You could’ve. And we were fighting, and I was thinking the whole time, ‘What if I never get to apologize?’ You know?”
I nod and dip my fry into the cheesy sauce. “I know, but I’m here and I didn’t, and you can give me that apology anytime.”
He chuckles. “Wow, Hals.”
I shrug. “If that’s what you were worried about, there’s no time like the present.”
Chris gets up from the chair and steps toward me. I’m not real sure at all what he’s planning to do here, but then he reaches over and pulls the blanket over my toes.
“You hate that. I noticed it earlier.”
I take a break from stuffing my face to smile at my brother. “Yeah, I’m pretty cold.”
“I guess the milkshake wasn’t a great idea.”
“I’m going to drink it anyway, you’d better believe it.”
He laughs. “Are you okay? I mean, besides the obvious.”
“Yeah, it was a hard day, and this didn’t make it better.”
“What happened?”
I raise my eyebrow at him in disbelief. “You don’t really want to know.”
“Since when do we not tell each other things?”
“At least since you started thinking you knew what I needed more than I did,” I say. “And since you went and punched out Jake. And you obviously think the worst of me and of him.”
“You could’ve told me about y’all, and you didn’t. I was upset, Hals.”
“I get it, but there was nothing to tell you. Until recently, we were still figuring it out.”
He nods. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It wasn’t good of me.”
I want to keep being mad at him, but it’s hard to be when he’s looking at me like that. “I know you were upset, and I forgive you, but I’m not over it yet.”
“Fair. I’m not over it, either. We don’t lie to each other, but maybe you’re right and I did overstep and overreact.”
“I know I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”
“It’s boring at home without you to talk to.”
“Same,” I say. My head spins a little, and I lean it back against the pillow.
“Good job on the concussion. Now you know how it feels. Welcome to the Concussion Club.”
“No offense, but it’s not a club I ever wanted to join. The only club I want to be part of right now is eat this food club, and then a nap club.”
“That seems right. Those are two of the top three rules.”
“What’s the third?”
“No electronics,” he says, taking the phone from my hand. I stammer at him. “It’s hard, I know.”
He scoots his chair up next to my bed and steals a fry. And then, like that, he and I have all but made up. Not that we even have to do that. He’s my brother, my twin, the other half of me. There’s a kind of understanding and forgiveness that’s automatically built in there.
“Will you text him for me?”
Chris nods, pulls his phone out, and sends a text. “Okay, done.”
“Thank you,” I say.
I can tell he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. I eat my burger and stop about halfway through because my head aches and my eyes hurt, and I can’t say no to sleep.
I wake up to pink daisies. There is a card with them, my name scribbled on the front. I know it’s from Jake before I even open it.
I had to see if you were okay. You were asleep so I didn’t want to wake you. I’ve been thinking about you, and us, all day. We messed up. I messed up. I know we agreed this wasn’t the right time, but you’ll always have my heart, Hals. Always. – Jake.
I look up as Chris comes back in the room. “Pretty,” he says. “Who is that from?”
I shake my head. “Jake, actually.”
“He was here?”
“I guess so,” I say. “Where were you?”
Chris smiles. “Mom and Dad got you discharged. We’re going home.”
Later, almost 10:00 p.m., the doorbell rings again, and the sound pierces through my head. I keep my eyes closed because I’m supposed to be sleeping. Chris oohs excitedly. “I wonder what we have now?” Folks have been coming by dropping off food since we got home. Since before we got home really, ’cause there were covered dishes sitting on the porch waiting for us.
Chris’s voice echoes through the house. “She’s gonna be fine now… Thank you very much, Mrs. Baker. It sure smells mighty good.” A few seconds later, he plops down beside me. “Pot roast,” he says, “still warm.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yeah,” he says. “We’ve got a feast building up in the kitchen.”
It’s kinda like what happened with Jamie and Jake after the accident. The whole town is quick to respond in any way they can, which usually means food. I rest my head on Chris’s shoulder.
I can tell he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. I close my eyes and listen to the old episode of The Mailroom I begged him to turn on—even though I can’t watch it and he hates it—and we sit together.
A call comes in on my phone, and Chris answers. He leaves the room and whispers. When he comes back, I know something is wrong. “What?”
“Ms. Nichols from the rehab center. A kid, Seth, passed tonight.”
I immedi
ately think of Jake. “Give me the phone.”
“You can’t, Hals.”
I cross my arms. “This is important. Give it to me,” I say, and even though he shouldn’t, he hands it to me. I try to call Jake, but it goes to his voicemail. I don’t leave a message.
I’m wide awake in the middle of the night, and my head actually doesn’t hurt at all, so I grab my phone. I know, I’m not supposed to, but I can’t resist. Abby has texted to ask if I’m okay; I text her back a quick heart emoji and say I miss her.
I hope Jake is okay. I can’t believe I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. Where is he now? I start to text him, but what do you say? What can I say? Not sure, I slide the phone down. I really wish I was with him.
Seth is dead, and he will never get to have a life he deserved.
I could’ve died tonight.
I don’t want to waste any time I have left. I want to seize the opportunities I have. I look left and see my portfolio sitting on my desk. Including that one.
I call Jake again. This time, I leave a message. “It’s me. I heard the news about Seth, and I hope you’re okay. It’s been an eventful day, huh? I don’t really know what to say besides I’m thinking about you. Call me later, if you need me.”
I move to my desk and open my laptop. The museum website saved the application I started but haven’t finished yet. All I have left to do is send email on my portfolio and write an essay. There’s a short essay about why you want the experience, and I finally have an answer. I start writing it all out, and a few minutes later, I click “Apply.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jake
We stand in a circle in the church basement and join hands. I’m not really a kumbaya kind of guy, but Coach got me hooked up with this group for other teens with struggles. I’ve come here for two weeks now, and it’s not so bad. They come and they talk. Sometimes, they’ll ask for advice and Dr. Joel will suggest steps that they can take. There are five other people here this morning in my group, besides me and Dr. Joel.
The Crush Collision Page 18
