by Amanda Lance
“Mom is on the phone with her parents now. They’re out of town but are taking the first flight back.” Dad rubbed his eyes from beneath his glasses then stared down at his shoes. “Were you drinking too, Hadley?”
“Of course not. I—” I wanted to be insulted by the insinuation. A part of me even wanted to argue, but this wasn’t the time or the place, and considering the situation, I couldn’t blame Dad for assuming the worst.
“How’d you get here, anyway? Shit, Hadley, I’m sorry I took the car—I just freaked out.”
“It’s okay, Simon. You did the right thing. And anyway, I got a ride from…a friend.”
Dad waved to someone behind us. “Is that your friend over there, kids?”
Sure enough, James McKay was standing there, waving sheepishly back to my dad.
I only had to look at Simon’s face to confirm my suspicions; Jenna had most likely got whatever she had taken from James.
“Don’t.” I pulled Simon back by his colored jumpsuit.
“But that bastard—”
“Causing a scene here won’t help Jenna. You don’t know anything for certain.”
“Yes, I do,” he hissed.
But I got to James before Simon did, intercepting any potential violence between them. “I thought you left.”
“I only parked my truck. I wanted to make sure Jenna was okay.”
Mom’s perfume inflated my senses as she came up behind me. For the first time in a long while, I was truly happy to see her, and when she pulled me into a hug, I hugged her back.
“Thank God you’re all right. I was worried sick.”
“Oh come on, Mom.” I tried to laugh but Mom squeezing me tighter made it hard to breathe. “Be realistic now. Where would I even get the money for drugs?”
“Not even close to funny, Hadley.”
“Just trying to make light, Mom. Give us an update.”
She took Dad’s glasses off without permission, her constant need to be doing something taking over. “Jenna’s mother and father are at a conference in Denver. They were checking out of the hotel and on their way to the airport, so hopefully they’ll be here soon.”
“What have the doctors said?”
Simon kicked a chair. “They haven’t said anything. All the money they get paid, you’d think they’d tell you something.”
As she finished cleaning Dad’s glasses, she looked up and smiled. “Who’s this, now?”
“This is McKay.” I shifted my weight from side to side. “He gave me lift here.”
James lifted his hand in a faint wave but said nothing. I felt his gaze on me, maybe he expected me to jump up and down shouting, ‘he did it! he did it!’ But I couldn’t. And if the adults felt the tension between us, they didn’t mention it. Instead, Dad stood up and stretched his legs. “It’s good to meet you, young man. Thanks for helping out tonight. I hope you weren’t stupid enough to be doing anything illegal.”
As he shook his hand, James said nothing.
There is an essence of suspense that dwells in emergency rooms. Time slows down and plays tricks on you, making you think more of it has gone by than really has. You look at the outdated magazines in the rack and stare at the stains on the carpet, but the anticipation never goes anywhere. Maybe it just gets recycled through the ventilators and the anxiety just gets re-released with every siren and bloody scrub.
I thought about this while I watched my family. Though he was trying very hard to stay awake, Dad was nodding off and Mom was nudging him every so often, reminding him that both of them didn’t need to be there. Simon was pacing like a kid on Christmas morning, harassing every doctor, nurse, and orderly until an attendant threatened to call security on him. Mom sent him on a run to the vending machines just to give him something to do. To quell my own boredom, I imagined what a random panicked woman is trying to say to the attendant, but it doesn’t last for long. And though I want to be angry or numb, tell myself it’s better that way, the body beside me is too appealing to ignore. So I rest my head against James McKay’s shoulder and close my eyes, but only for a second, and only a second, because I don’t want him to know just how much I appreciate him being there. No matter what his reasons are.
Chapter 28
McKay
There is a beautiful girl asleep on my arm.
I can feel Hadley Grayson’s breath through my shirt. It’s warm, and the weight of her head against me is just right. I keep expecting a nurse or one of her parents or King Asshat to take her away from me, but no one does. The imaginary eyes that I usually feel on me are real this time though, because there are a lot of cameras here, in every corner, in doorways, and by the security check-in. I’m anxious about what the security guards must think of me, of their guns, and the fact that I have amphetamines in my pickup.
It isn’t long before Hadley’s mom (her name is Helen, I think) is back on the phone with Jenna’s mom, doing what I assume is typical mom talk. With every one of Hadley’s inhales and exhales, I wonder if my mom would be freaking out as much as Jenna’s mom seems to be. I can see this secret agency of moms that makes every new mom recite an oath. I bet they have to sign a code of conduct that includes how much they panic in any given situation. Would my mom have gotten kicked out of the Secret League of Moms?
Hadley’s dad finishes talking to King Asshat and he goes down the hall. Now her dad comes over and sits across from Hadley and me. I figure he’s going to call me out on what a weirdo I am, accuse me of perving on his daughter, but he nods at me instead.
“Hi.”
I can’t say anything. I think my mouth has been super-glued shut. Hadley’s dad looks like a nice enough older guy. His sweater vest has a logo I don’t recognize and he’s wearing checkered socks that stick up from his loafers. I think his glasses are crooked, but I don’t want to move my head away from Hadley. I have to admit the angle is starting to hurt my neck.
“Thanks again for driving Hadley—ah, McKay, was it?”
I nod. I keep waiting for the moment he’s going to send me away.
“You’re a senior too, I take it?”
I nod. Is this guy really in the long haul for a conversation? “Y-yes, sir.”
“Any plans for college yet?”
Just as I open my mouth, a couple of paramedics roll in some old man on a gurney. Between the shouting and the sirens, it’s a welcome distraction.
“I, uh—haven’t decided where.”
Hadley’s dad (Steven?) wrings his hands together. Could it be that he was so tired that he didn’t even notice what I did?
“I think you live close-by us too, isn’t that right? Just off Changewater?”
I nodded, though I knew I shouldn’t have.
“Well, it’s good to see Hadley making some friends outside of fencing.” He sighed and scratched at some of his gray whiskers. “Especially ones who can make smart choices.”
Chapter 29
Hadley
My eyes felt dry and sharp when I woke up and for a fleeting moment I actually forgot where I was.
“Hey there.”
I saw James’ ash colored eyes as I looked up and very little of anything else. “Hi.”
My neck cracked as I sat upright. Other than a radio a security guard was listened to, the emergency room was quiet.
“What time is it?”
“Quarter after three.” James reached for something but hesitated. I realized then that I had a lot of stray hairs stuck on my face. When I pulled my hand back, it was covered in glitter.
“Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
He shrugged and slid further down in his chair. “Don’t be.”
I brushed some of the glitter from James’ shoulder. I didn’t want to wait to ask about the other stuff and dove in head first without the slightest hope that I would land in the deep end.
“If Jenna isn’t okay, are you going to be in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Because you sold her those drugs?”
He s
aid nothing.
“James?”
“I made them, too.”
“Y-you made them?”
“I’m usually just the supplier. I rarely sell anything to anyone other than the distributors. We shouldn’t talk about this now.”
I expected him not to admit anything at all. It would have been better for him to lie. I wouldn’t have believed it, but at least the lack of friendship would have been easier to handle. The truth is supposed to be the best? Screw that. I wanted the lie. It might not have been worth anything at the end of the day, but it was still better than reality.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk at all.”
He nodded sharply. “Right.”
I watched him stand up and nod to Mom as she continued to talk down Jenna’s parents. Being mad was the right thing to do. It was the normal way to feel, wasn’t it?
Then why did I feel so lousy as I watched him walk away?
The weekend was unbearably quiet, only interrupted by the occasional phone call and lecture from my parents. Simon stewed in his room for two days straight and without a confidant, I was left on my own. My escape came on Sunday morning when I started volunteering at the animal shelter. The intern showed me around and handed me a blank nametag before showing me to the supply closet. I put on some gloves and emptied a couple of garbage cans, but that was about it. At least I didn’t have to see any of the animals. They only reminded me of Dog.
By evening, Dad managed to pry Simon from his room with the promise of Belgian waffles. I mostly think it was the potential of hearing an update about Jenna.
“I’m okay, Mom.” Simon shot me a glare that promised the pain of death if I opened my mouth. Neither of us had talked about what we knew; not to each other, and definitely not to our parents. Simon probably thought it would make things worse, but we needed to clear the air, one way or another.
“Yeah, Mom.” I gripped my spoon with such a force I thought I might bend it in half. It may have been a cheap shot, but I went straight in for the kill and pulled at his heart strings. “How is Jenna?” Since Friday night, Mom and Jenna’s mom had been in constant communication. Hell, at that point, our moms probably knew more than the doctors did.
“They kept her sedated for several hours after they pumped her stomach.” Mom coughed and I stared at my chocolate milk. Just the phrase ‘pumping her stomach’ was pretty brutal. “When they brought her out of it, she seemed to be okay.” Mom hesitated and sat beside us at the table, putting one of her hands over each of ours. “Apparently she’s been using several different kinds of drugs for quite some time, mostly to stay awake. Her parents blame themselves—”
“They should. You know she takes classes at the community college, is on the tennis team, babysits, does stuff for their church, and yearbook? They even have her signed up to work the food drives for the holidays.”
“Well, she won’t be doing it this year.” Mom sighed again and put the TV on mute. “Jenna has agreed to stay in the hospital for a little while—”
“Detoxing?” I asked.
“That and some therapy—”
“She doesn’t need rehab, she needs a Goddamn break.”
“Maybe that’s the case, but it isn’t up to any of us. I hope you guys know that you never have to do anything you don’t want to. Dad and I encourage you to do activities, but we don’t want you to feel pressured.”
I picked a marshmallow from my cereal. “Please don’t worry about us, Mom.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Simon added. “We have everything under control.”
Chapter 30
McKay
I’m not sure why, but somehow I think that out of all the people I expected to ask me to leave, Hadley wouldn’t be one of them. I hated feeling like she had betrayed me somehow, when in reality she hadn’t done anything wrong at all.
I’m the fuck up.
I should have just dropped her off at the hospital and left, but what were the odds that King Asshat didn’t already turn me in? Besides, I wanted to apologize for grabbing her in the pickup, for lying to her about why I didn’t want to get caught by the police, for giving Jenna the means to overdose.
That’s the other thing that blows my mind. Jenna seemed so under control, so with it. It never crossed my mind that she would combine my product with something or take too much. I guess I overestimated her self-control. Or maybe she just overestimated her own tolerance.
Either way we are both potentially fucked now. Depending on what Jenna tells her parents and the cops when she wakes up (if she wakes up—and I don’t even want to think about that) then I could be charged with assault on top of everything else.
I drive home from the hospital as slowly as I can. Despite my best attempts, I can’t get the look of disgust Hadley gave me out of my head. At least now I won’t have to worry about her being associated with me.
If I fell over dead, she’d probably lead the parade.
I can’t say I’d blame her. I could have very possibly killed someone tonight. If that doesn’t make me a bad guy, I’m not sure what would.
***
It’s not the sound of Dog barking that wakes me up. I’ve learned to tune him out when he goes spazzy on the morning squirrels. It’s actually the sound of pounding on the front door.
Funny, I didn’t think the cops would bother to knock.
If Frank forgot his key, then he would just scream and holler. There would be no knocking. He wasn’t due back though until the end of the day, and I couldn’t see him returning anytime before that.
I have become just another wrinkle in my sweatshirt and I’m not bothering to brush my hair. Why should my mugshot look any different than anyone else’s? I look down at my sneakers. They’ll probably take my shoe laces from me.
Damn.
“McKay! Get your ass out here. I know you’re in there!”
Dog and I both perk up when we hear my name. Since I know that King Asshat is not with the Ravel Police, I must not be getting arrested. Yet I don’t feel the relief you’d think I would. I get out of bed, keep low, and try and get a peek out of the kitchen windows.
I only see a glimpse of him, but King Asshat looked downright pissed. Clearly he’s sober from yesterday’s events, and whether it’s from the colder weather or anger, his face is all red and puffed out like one of those red-assed baboons who want to mate.
Ha Ha. Why is no one around when I think of something clever?
Now I’m far from the fighting type. I’m actually a lot better at getting other people to do the dirty work for me. I’ve observed that people with a higher intelligence tend to do this generally in life. In an emergency I could probably get in a good swing or two, but that is mostly wishful thinking. If the situation was serious, I could throw lye at him or get the sulfuric acid…
Then there’s Hadley…
If I had replaced my damn phones right away like I should have, I could have just call The Stooges. Maybe I should start offering them discounted product in exchange for body guard service.
“Get out here right now, fucknut, or I’m calling the cops!”
No time to think about it. I grab Dog by the neck fat and lock him in my bedroom. I’m pretty confident that even King Asshat wouldn’t hurt Dog, but I won’t risk it.
I hesitate before opening the door. I can only think about the beating I’m probably in for. I’m not afraid of the pain necessarily, just the inconveniences that come with it. If he ends up breaking my nose, then I’ll probably end up with a deviated septum and have trouble breathing. If my wrist or fingers get messed up, it’ll be hard to work…still, I reason it’s better than the cops, better than the meager possibility that I’ll never see Hadley again.
Before I even get a full step outside, King Asshat is on me. He isn’t a big kid or anything, but he’s fast, especially for a band geek, and he’s hitting me in the face faster than I can put up my arms. And I’m thinking about Hadley and how strange it is that King Asshat’s hair color can be so similar but so diffe
rent from hers. And is she laughing her perfect laugh at knowing her brother is kicking my ass? And I’m remembering the feel of her knee in my palm and her breath just on my shoulder……
King Asshat is so busy trying to ruin my face that he isn’t protecting his body. After a couple of minutes of battering me, I can tell he’s getting tired, out of breath. He must have been so hyped up he didn’t think about conserving his energy for real damage. I risk making the move with my leg to knee him (the only offensive measure I’ve made so far). When he’s distracted, I strike him as hard as I can in the throat.
He reaches for his neck and sort of cranes over enough for me to get up. I try but everything is dizzy, so I compromise by sitting back down. King Asshat is sputtering and coughing and swearing and trying to grab at my feet, but I kick him off.
“Time out,” I declare. “Kill me when you catch your breath.”
I wipe my nose on my sleeve and draw back thick globs of blood. When I spit there is blood there too, with dirt. My left eye feels like it’s going to pop out of my head.
“I—” From the lack of air, King Asshat’s face is white now instead of red, and in struggling to breathe, he’s giving himself the hiccups, making him sound something like this: “I,” hiccup “am,” hiccup “going to,” hiccup “kill you.”
Hiccup
Hiccup
Hiccup
“It’s good to have goals.”
We’re both catching our breath, and every couple of seconds there is an intermission of blood spitting and hiccupping. From inside the house, Dog has stopped barking. I silently wish he has curled up and gone to sleep.
“Is Jenna okay?”
“You don’t get to ask that. You don’t even get to say her name.”
“Is she—she isn’t—”
“She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re worried about, McKay!” He kicked dust at me with his boot.
