By Your Side

by Kasie West

  “What?” he asked.

  I realized I was smiling too. “I want to take out my camera.” My hand clutched the strap of my camera bag.

  “Why?”

  “Because you are very photographable.” Dax surrounded by dead plants, the sun shining muted through the fogged up window behind him.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “It’s true.”

  “Not sure I should be flattered when I saw you taking a picture of a spider a few weeks ago.”

  “How do you know what I was taking pictures of a few weeks ago?”

  “I walked right by you. Your vision is limited behind that camera.”

  I hadn’t seen him at all. My vision was limited behind the camera, focused, uncluttered. That was one of the reasons I liked it. “It wasn’t a spider. It was its web. It was frozen. And amazing. I’ll have to show you how those turned out one of these days.” I stopped. “Like, any day. You should come over to my house. My parents would probably love it.”

  “Your parents . . . they sent me a letter.”

  I laughed. I had forgotten about that letter. “They did. You’re their hero.”

  “I thought I was yours.”

  I laughed again. “Yes. You are.”

  “You sound almost as sarcastic as I imagined you sounded when I read it.”

  “I was mad at you when I wrote it.”

  He seemed amused by this thought. “Why?”

  “You didn’t want to see me.”

  “You like to assume.”

  My heart did a somersault and I scolded it for that reaction. We’d established a rule. He didn’t want an attachment and neither did I.

  The bell rang, sounding through the campus. I looked up but then back at him, not moving.

  “So, anyway, you need to drive over to my house and . . . Wait, can you drive?” I asked suddenly.

  “I drove my mom’s car from the end of the street to the driveway when I was thirteen.”

  “Wow. That’s impressive.”

  “I hit two mailboxes.”

  “Or not. So that’s why you didn’t want to borrow my car.”

  He smiled. “That is one of many reasons.”

  “I’m going to teach you how to drive it. You would love the freedom it gives you.” I felt bad that nobody in his life had ever taught him how to drive, and looking forward, I couldn’t see that changing. It was a life skill he needed if he wanted to be as free as he claimed he did.

  He was still sitting, leaning back on his palms. “That does not sound like one of your better ideas.”

  “It is an excellent idea.”

  He brushed some dirt off his palms. “Don’t you have to go?”

  “Don’t you have to go?”

  “I could stay here all day,” he said.

  “I could too,” I countered.

  His smile took over his face. “Really?”

  “Oh you think you know me so well now, huh? You think being late to class would bother me?”

  “Yes. You’d hate to make your teacher mad at you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, but then said, “You’re right. I have to go.” I rushed toward the door, but when I was almost there, I circled back around and threw my arms around him. “You did your job perfectly. Thank you.”

  He chuckled and put his arms around me. Since he was up on the table, my head fit just below his chin. I closed my eyes and sighed. I went to pull away but he held on. At first I thought maybe he needed a longer hug but when his body shook with silent laughter I knew he was doing it to bug me.

  “The late bell is going to ring,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “Let me go, brat.”

  He did and I ran out the door, throwing him a smile over my shoulder as I did. He still hadn’t moved to leave, but a lazy smile was on his face.

  Just a distraction, I reminded myself as I ran to class.

  CHAPTER 30

  I had tried to justify going home at lunch so I didn’t have to face my friends, but that would only make Dallin’s statement about me seem true. I clutched my brown lunch sack in my fist and stepped into the cafeteria. The wall of noise hit me first, then the competing food smells—today it was mostly spaghetti and garlic. I kept my focus and headed for our table.

  Lisa smiled and slid down the bench to make room for me. It wasn’t until I was seated and took in all the other smiling, talking faces that I realized Dallin wasn’t there. A scan of the room didn’t locate him either.

  “Where’s Dallin?” I asked Lisa.

  “Not sure.”

  So he was the one running away now? I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry that I was the only one who got to see Jeff last night,” I said to the table.

  Avi patted my arm. “I’m not mad. You’re the one who might actually make a difference. You like each other. I hear emotions can play a big part in healing.”

  The rest of the group chimed in with various versions of how they weren’t mad at me either.

  “Autumn, the miracle worker,” Lisa said quietly from beside me with a smile.

  I wasn’t sure if she was talking about healing Jeff, or smoothing things over with my friends. Either way, “I still have some work to do.”

  Lisa took out one of her Oreos and handed it to me, then, as if she knew I was saying all this because of Dallin, she said, “Dallin is an idiot.”

  I smiled and took a bite, glad to know she was on my side . . . if there were sides. There weren’t sides. I was going to fix this.

  “He’s out of the ICU?” I hugged Mrs. Matson. I couldn’t believe how happy I was to be on a different floor. With different chairs and a different television in the corner.

  “Yes.” She was beaming with excitement.

  “Did you text Dallin?” I had gotten the text after school and waited a full hour before I came because I wanted him to be able to come first.

  “Yes, but I think he has baseball practice or something.”

  “Oh. Right.” Crap. Were they already starting that? It seemed so early. Must’ve been preseason. “So is Jeff talking yet?”

  “He’s a lot more aware but still sleeping most of the time. The doctors are slowly weaning him off his pain medication. They think that might be part of the reason he’s not fully awake. Come. He needs to see you.”

  His room was smaller but with fewer machines. And he had a window this time that overlooked the parking lot. I sat down next to him and took his hand. “Hey, Jeff. We miss you. I need you to get better. Maybe you can talk to Dallin and tell him I’m a decent human being. He seems to think otherwise right now. That’s a good reason to talk, yes? For my benefit.”

  Another good reason to talk was so I stopped telling so many bad jokes. That would be for his benefit, of course. If he’d heard any of them, that is.

  He let out a small groan and my heart jumped.

  “Jeff?”

  He rolled his head to the side and his eyes fluttered open. His mom had said he’d been awake more but I hadn’t anticipated how much clearer his eyes would look. Like he could actually see me. Joy rushed through me.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  A smile played on his lips.

  “Your mom would be really happy if you talked. Seeing your gorgeous green eyes is enough for most of us, but not for her, apparently.”

  He squeezed my hand and then closed those eyes. I waited, hoping maybe he just needed to rest for a minute, but he didn’t open them again.

  I was feeling pretty good about this report I’d be able to give to Mrs. Matson, until I arrived at the waiting room and saw Dallin there waiting to talk to her as well. She was having a discussion with the doctor.

  “You had to be first,” Dallin said under his breath to me when I joined him.

  “I tried to wait. I didn’t realize baseball practice had started.”

  Mrs. Matson came over to us. “So the doctor still thinks it’s important that he not have a lot of activity in his room for the next little while. I want
all of you to be able to see him, but we’re going to have to keep it to a minimum. One extra guest a day.”

  “Dallin can still see him today, though, right?” I asked in a panic.

  “Yes, of course. But can you work it out with your friends so that he doesn’t get overwhelmed with visitors?”

  “Yes,” I said, then bit my lip. “I mean, yes, Dallin can create a schedule.”

  “Will you, Dallin?” Mrs. Matson asked.

  “Yes,” he said shortly.

  “I better go,” I said. Mrs. Matson didn’t need my report. Nothing new had happened. “Have a good visit.”

  Dallin only nodded. I had wanted to fix this, but somehow I’d made it even worse.

  CHAPTER 31

  Mr. Peterson must’ve told him who was waiting, because Dax came out to the porch prepared to leave—shoes, jeans, and jacket on. He shut the door behind him and headed to my car with just a “Hey.”

  “Hi,” I said, catching up to him.

  When we were both in my car, I turned to him. “Bad day?”

  “Better now.”

  I gripped the wheel, not wanting to see the expression that went along with those words. We both still needed to be unattached. Seeing Jeff today had reaffirmed the fact that he was going to get better and everything was going to go back to how it was supposed to be.

  I wasn’t sure where I was driving until I ended up in front of the library. Dax seemed surprised with my choice too.

  “You have homework to do?” he asked.

  “I have shoes to retrieve.”

  “Still?”

  “It hasn’t been that long.” I pulled into the underground lot.

  We walked toward the door together. The first hall we came to was empty, and that brought back the feelings of the first few hours in the library. But when we made it to the main hall, several other people were roaming about, which made things better, different.

  “You good?” he asked.

  I nodded. We walked through the glass hallway and downstairs to the main library. I checked under the chair first, hoping I didn’t have to ask anyone. They weren’t there. I lingered as I remembered Dax reading in that chair, remembered where we’d shared the sleeping bag right below it. I wondered if Dax was remembering the same thing. We caught each other’s eyes.

  “We should go see if there are any apples to steal in the kitchen,” I whispered.

  He smiled.

  I took a deep breath and walked to the checkout desk. The lady behind it waited for me to speak.

  “I left a pair of black boots here. Did they get turned in?”

  “Black boots . . .” She searched beneath the counter and came up with my boots, setting them on top.

  “So this is what an ankle wedge looks like,” Dax said quietly beside me.

  The lady gave me a hard look. “You must be the girl who was stuck here last weekend.”

  I wasn’t prepared for her to call me out on it. I nodded.

  “Your mom has given us a list of new closing procedures.”

  How did I respond to that? Was she mad at me?

  “Probably a good thing,” Dax said, swiping my boots and leading us away.

  I couldn’t believe my mom had done that. Okay, actually I could believe it. It was in her nature, but I was so embarrassed.

  Before we got up the stairs and to the glass hallway again Dax said, “Who cares what she thinks? She’s nobody. Don’t worry about it.”

  I don’t know if he thought I couldn’t handle stairs at that moment or what, but he led me to the elevator and pushed the button.

  “I don’t care,” I assured him. I really was fine.

  The light dinged and the doors opened. We climbed inside. Just as he was about to push the button for the bottom floor, I pushed the one for the top and the doors slid shut.

  He was still holding my boots so I took them from him, clutching them to my chest. “Have you ever seen the bell tower?” I asked.

  “No. I haven’t.”

  “You should.”

  Considering it only had to go up two floors, the elevator took forever. When the doors finally opened, we stepped out. I wondered if the door to the tower would still be unlocked or if we’d have to turn around and go back down. I pushed on the bar and it opened with a loud creak. It was dark this time, and I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight. The stairs up to the top didn’t look or feel any more sturdy than they had the last time I climbed them. And now, with the two of us on them, I laughed nervously with each step.

  We made it to the top and I opened the door. I took in a deep breath of cool air. The wooden owl on the railing looked at us as we both sat down in the small space that overlooked the peaked roofline. We were knee to knee, the space was so small.

  “Cool, right?” I turned off the flashlight on my phone, the streetlights outside enough to dimly light the area.

  “Yes. I’m surprised I haven’t seen this before. Our stay wasn’t my first stint in the library.”

  “You don’t say,” I said, feigning surprise.

  He smiled, then looked up. “You rang this bell one night, didn’t you?”

  “Nobody heard it.”

  “I did. I wasn’t sure what it was.”

  “It was me.”

  Sitting there, I realized this tower was probably off-limits for guests. If we got caught we’d get in trouble.

  “Anyway, I wanted to show you. We should go.”

  “Because you’re worried, or because you have somewhere you need to be?”

  “The first.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “I know. It’s kind of my thing.”

  My arms rested across my knees, which were pulled up to my chest. He ran a slow finger across my forearm. I closed my eyes, letting all the tension of the day, of coming back to the library, pour out of me.

  “I’m trying to manage things. It’s been hard. It will get better when things are back to normal. There’s just a lot of stuff going on right now.”

  Dax reached up and held on to the railing behind him, seeming to consider this. “What happened this morning before school?”

  I sighed, not wanting to go there. Just the thought of what Dallin had said made me shudder. “Nothing.”

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  I held up a fist. “I’ll play you for it.”

  “Play me for it?”

  “Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets a secret.” I was willing to risk that for the chance at asking him a question. I had a couple I really wanted answered.

  He smiled. “Okay.”

  “Best two out of three?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  He won the first hand with a rock that crushed my scissors. I growled, then got ready again. The second hand I went with paper, and he did a rock again. Now it was a tie. I looked at him. He’d done two rocks in a row. Would he do it a third time? He gave me a calm stare, not giving anything away. Dax was unpredictable, so he’d go with something different. Although, more unpredictable would be if he did the same for a third time.

  “One, two, three,” I said and held out a paper. He was holding a rock again. “Ha! I won.”

  “You did,” he said, seeming impressed.

  “Who knew you were so bad at this game?”

  “Have you been practicing smack talk?”

  “Only because you keep losing. I’m getting plenty of practice.”

  He smirked and grabbed hold of the rail over his head again. “What’s your question?”

  My eyes went to his left arm. His tattoo. Tattoo or Susanna? Tattoo or Susanna? “Why haven’t you sent that letter in your book to Susanna?” I asked.

  His smile fell. “Because . . .” He put his hands through his hair. “Ugh. You’re a horrible person, you know that?” He said it with a smile so I just nodded.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He held his hand forward, palm up. “You see this?”

  My eyes went to his tattoo. “Yes.”
>
  “This was our very last court date. My mom had had months to change. Went through three different drug rehab programs, six court dates, two hospitalizations. And as we sat there in court, me on one side, her on the other, the judge asked her if she was choosing meth over her son. She was. It’s the last time I ever spoke to her.”

  “She lost her rights to you that day?”

  He gave a short nod.

  “I’m sorry, Dax.”

  “I already told you, it was the day I finally let go. I’m free.”

  I didn’t believe him any more today than I had the first time he’d said it. Everyone needs someone they can count on. “And the letter?”

  “Is everything I still need her to answer.”

  “Susanna is your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why can’t you send it?”

  “Because she’ll think I’m trying to reconnect, and I’m not.”

  “What are you trying to do?”

  “Get basic information that kids with parents have about themselves.”

  “Why do you care what she’ll think, then?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then send it.”

  “I will.” He looked up at me through his lashes. “And you just got way too much information for that win.”

  I had so many follow-up questions, but I let them go for now. Despite the fact that he looked completely calm, I understood how emotionally draining talking about things like that could be. “I totally did.”

  “Are you going to make me win my question now?”

  I fake sighed. “I guess not. Since technically you answered two. What was your question again?”

  “This morning . . . ?”

  “Oh right. This morning . . .” Spit it out, Autumn. He just told you what happened on the worst day of his life; you can tell him this. “Dallin told me that I was the reason Jeff was in the hospital.”

  “Who’s Dallin?” he asked, his eyes hardening.

  “Jeff’s best friend.”

  “And why would he think something so idiotic?”

  “Because I’m always leaving or finding a place to hide or going into a corner at parties, and he said that Jeff always felt the need to go running after me. And he was doing that again when he crashed into the river—running after me. Dallin basically hates me now.”