I try a few more times and get a little better with each attempt. I’m feeling brave, like a badass, and I decide to try to ollie over the little rail a few feet away.
The first time, I bail because I don’t have enough speed. The second time, I bail because I don’t have enough courage. The third time, I almost make it over the rail. The fourth time, I’m feeling good, and just when I’m about to slide my front foot, I feel something warm trickle down my leg. It distracts me, and I miss my jump. My board hits the rail and sends me flying forward. I land at the feet of one of the older boys I don’t recognize.
“Sick!” he yells, nudging me away from him with his foot. “This is why we shouldn’t let bitches in the skate park.” His friends laugh, and I’m more confused than anything. They’re all laughing and pointing now, and when I look down, I’m horrified to see blood between my legs. But I don’t feel hurt. Not there, anyway.
A couple of the girls from my school make their way over to see what’s going on, iced coffees in hand.
“Fucking gross, Remington! Plug that shit up,” one of them says with a scrunched nose. I think her name is Sydney.
Sydney is an asshole.
My ankle is screaming in pain, and I’m trying to keep from crying, but my bottom lip starts to tremble, and my vision blurs with tears.
“Somebody come get their girl! She’s bleeding all over the park,” the guy from earlier yells. I reach for my board, embarrassed and in pain. I struggle to get up, and no one offers to help me. Suddenly, the boy in front of me looks terrified. Straight up, about to piss his pants afraid. And then I know why.
As usual, Ryan shoots first and asks questions later. He charges the kid, landing one solid punch to the face and he’s out cold. He hits the pavement like a sack of potatoes, and everyone gasps.
“Rem! What the fuck happened? Are you okay?” he asks, frantic.
I nod shakily.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Ryan yells at the nosy assholes surrounding us. They’re smart enough to listen.
“Can you help me up? I can’t move my ankle, and I think I’m hurt,” I say, gesturing toward the blood coating my legs.
Ryan sighs and scratches the back of his neck, uncomfortable.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re not hurt, Rem. You, uh, started your period.” He coughs.
“I’m eleven!” I screech. I feel blindsided. I mean, I guess I knew it was coming. But, I thought I had another year or two. I bet if I had a mom, I’d be more prepared. God knows my dad would rather hang himself than have this conversation with me. And now poor Ryan is stuck with the job.
“It is what it is.” He shrugs. He stands and pulls off his black tee, his chest bare except for the cross tattoo on his right peck that one of his friends gave him at a party. He tugs the shirt on over my head, then lifts me into his arms like a baby. Ryan makes sure the shirt covers my backside and walks out of the skate park, just as the kid he knocked out starts to stir.
“Ethan! Grab our boards,” he snaps. Ethan scrambles to do as he says.
Ryan takes me home, fills the bath for me, and then goes to the store. He comes back with two different boxes of tampons, three types of pads, panty liners, ibuprofen, a couple of DVDs, and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
“What’s all this?” Surely, I don’t need all of these.
“The lady at the store said these ones,” he picks up a box of tampons that look different from the others, “are easier for beginners. I guess they don’t have the applicator or some shit.” He shrugs.
“These ones are normal,” he says, flipping another box over. “And if you don’t want to try those, you can just stick with pads. But don’t ask me the difference, because fuck if I know.”
I can’t help but crack a smile.
“And the rest?” I ask, amused.
“The ibuprofen is for the cramping. The chocolate, well, I’m not really sure,” he says, itching his head. “She just said it’s a must. The movies are because there’s not shit on TV, and I’m bored.”
“You’re staying with me?” I ask, surprised. “You can go back to the skate park, Ry. I’m fine here.”
“Nah. Rem and Ry for life, remember?” he says, bumping my fist with his and finishing the secret handshake we made up a few years back.
“Thank you. For everything.”
“It’s no big deal.”
But it was to me. That’s the real Ryan. Fiercely loyal and scary as hell. Ironically, a couple of weeks after that incident, I broke my ankle for real, and it wasn’t anywhere near as traumatic.
I walk out of my room, trying to find an excuse not to go to school today. No one is going to stop me. I don’t have any rules in this house. I kind of made up my own as I grew up, but I think I did a pretty good job because I’m not a drug addict, pregnant, or dead in a ditch. The house looks relatively okay. Not clean by any stretch of the imagination, but Ryan hasn’t thrown a party in two weeks in here, and it shows. I text Christian.
Me: How did it go yesterday?
Christian: Fine, I think? I’ll tell you all about it today.
Me: I’m not coming to school today.
Christian: Y?
Me: I don’t know.
I do. Because I don’t want to face Pierce. But I don’t want to admit it either.
Christian: I’ll come see you after school then.
Me: Please do.
He doesn’t answer to that. I drop my phone onto the counter and look around me. I’ve never felt so alone.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“What’s up is that I can’t get anywhere near your street!” Christian sounds exasperated, huffing loudly. I hear honks from different cars, and Christian shouting, “Yeah, yeah, we know! We’ve been stuck here for twenty minutes now, assholes.”
“Was there an accident?” I plop down on my couch and munch on the tip of my hair. It is legit the best thing to eat around here. I need to go to the supermarket before my dad arrives next week. Ryan is fine grabbing something from Wendy’s at the end of every day, but when my dad comes back home from being on the road for weeks, I like to make sure he gets some home-cooked meals in.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, it looks a lot more serious than that. There are like five police cars here.”
“Hmm.” I roll my eyes. “Probably a burglary, knowing my neighborhood.”
“And three ambulances? And yellow tape. Never a dull moment in your hood. No wonder you’re bored with our preppy school.”
I lie on the sofa and start flipping through the very few channels that my TV has to offer.
“I’m bored right now,” I whine. “Tell me what you see.”
“Well.” He sighs. “I see six…no, seven different police officers. At least one of them is hot.”
“Yeah.” My eyes become droopy and lazy. Perhaps because I haven’t eaten anything all day. I kind of forget to function properly sometimes. Especially since everything with Pierce has happened. “And?”
“Caution. Ambulances. A motorcycle on the side of the road…”
My heart stops in my chest. “What?” I ask. “Repeat that, please.”
“I said ambulances, a motorcycle…”
This time Christian doesn’t even finish his sentence before I hang up. I’m putting on my white Chucks and flying out the door in a second. My heart is in my throat.
Ambulances. Motorcycle. Police. Ryan.
I run toward the main road. My legs are a separate entity from the rest of my body. I never knew I could be so fast. I arrive at the scene. It’s already dark outside, and the red and blue lights are blinding me. I see the ambulances.
I don’t see Ryan.
There’s a cluster of people standing by, whispering and taking pictures. I slice through the crowd and run to one of the officers who is standing on the other side of the yellow tape, his arms folded over his chest. He looks somber and serious.
“What is this? What happened?” I ask him breathlessly. He barely e
ven shakes his head to show me that he heard me. I’m not going to get shit from him, I know then and there. I look around. People are crying. Some women cup their mouths in disbelief. I’m not sure what’s happening. I walk around trying to find a gap in the crowd, but there are too many people around the scene so I can’t see what’s actually going on in the road.
It’s not until I get a text message from Christian that I remember I hung up on him.
Think we got disconnected. I’m gonna take off. Try again tomorrow?
I don’t even respond.
“Remington?! Remington, is that you?” My neighbor, Janice, rushes toward me. She lives across the street and has like eighteen children from a bunch of different dads, and a little too nosy, but she is a good person. Hard working. She sometimes bakes stuff for Dad on his birthday. I don’t even want to begin to think why they’re tight or why she remembers his birthday.
“Hey.” I try to smile, moving some of my hair from my face. “What’s going on?”
“Did you see?” She jerks her thumb behind her shoulder, her eyes full of sadness. I shake my head.
“It’s too crowded. I’m really worried. Ryan went to get us something to eat, and he isn’t back…” I trail off. “I hope it’s not an accident.”
Her face melts in horror, and she grabs me and hugs me to her chest. She smells of cigarettes and vanilla. “It’s not, honey. Not an accident.”
I sigh in relief.
“He’s been shot.”
My veins fill with ice instantly, and I freeze.
“Ryan…someone shot your brother.”
I tear myself away from her, and this time I don’t try to sneak between the crowds. I shove people left and right, my eyes on the yellow tape. I kick, push, and deliberately step over other people’s toes.
I only stop when I see Ryan’s figure on the ground.
His eyes are still open. He is staring at the sky. He looks surprised more than anything else. More than scared. More than sad. More than anything.
He is lying on the road, and blood trickles from his white wifebeater. Wisps of his blond hair still dancing in the air. He can’t be dead. Paramedics are rushing around him, but they don’t try to save him.
“Why aren’t you saving him?!” I scream, pushing my way through the horde of people in my way. I feel people pulling at my arms, trying to keep me back, but I can’t be stopped.
“He’s my brother! Let me go. He’s my brother!” I manage to get to Ryan, and then I’m falling to my knees, lifting his head to my lap, and hugging him for dear life.
“Please no, please no, please no.” It’s all I can say, over and over. “Please don’t let this be real. Please don’t let this be real.” I hear officers yelling about not touching “the body”, and I want to fucking kill them for reducing him to just the body. He’s my brother. My best friend.
“I love you, Ryan. And I’m proud of you. So proud. Rem and Ry forever.” I sob into his hair. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye!” It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.
I feel two strong arms lifting me away, so I kiss his face one, two, three times. And then they’re covering his body and taking him away while I stay frozen in place, oblivious of my surroundings.
I watch the local news in the background as I make dinner. I’m chopping potatoes and onions when I raise my head to look at the dancing image on TV.
“The victim died of his injuries before arriving at St. John’s Hospital. His family has been informed. Police are looking at the suspects as we speak.”
“Drug connections.”
“Dealing weapons.”
“Four prior incidents.”
“Rich criminal history.”
This could describe most people in Las Vegas, but I don’t need to see his mug shot on the screen to know that it’s him. I just know. I grab my jacket and leave.
An hour later, the police show up at my doorstep. By then, I’ve already informed Dad, who cut his drive short and is coming back home immediately. By then, I’ve already packed a bag. I agreed with Christian to meet him on the corner of Main Street so he wouldn’t have to wait in another traffic jam caused by the incident. We don’t even know if his parents will let me stay.
“Yes?” I ask. Janice is holding me. She helped me into the house earlier.
The two police officers clutch their hats in their fists as they talk to me. I don’t let a word seep into my brain. The words just kind of float around me in the air, almost visible.
Janice nods a lot.
Christian’s car appears at the end of the street.
I walk over there after I’m done with the police, watching Pierce James standing on the other side of the street, saying so many things with one look.
I get into Christian’s car and leave.
The first night, I cry in Ryan’s bed until I pass out from sheer exhaustion. The second night, Christian’s folks let me stay until my dad gets back in town, but they’re not happy about it. I don’t sleep a wink all night. All I can think about is how Ryan is dead and now I’m really alone.
That night, I smoke.
I drink.
I visit Shelly.
She apologizes, saying she was fucked up on H and lonely.
I cry on her shoulder. Fucking cry on her shoulder.
I tell her everything.
She cries, too.
Shelly says something about how she’ll make it better, but I know it’s not true.
I crawl back home in the morning to find Headmaster Charles on my doorstep. Fuck. It’s a school day, and I’m missing again.
“Am I fired?” I hiccup.
“Do you want to be?” He raises one eyebrow.
“Might as well.” I shrug.
Christian goes to school, but I don’t.
I stay in his room. It feels too weird to go out there and face his mom and aunt. The house is huge, but that’s not necessarily a reassuring thing.
I spend the day surfing on Ryan’s Facebook page, watching the condolence messages pouring in and crying.
Pierce is calling every half an hour.
I don’t answer.
I don’t eat.
I barely breathe.
I look at the screen, begging for Dad to call and tell me that he is home. He doesn’t.
I try her house.
I try school.
I try everyone in her neighborhood.
I know she’s at Christian’s. She must be.
So, I send her a few more texts before I flush my life down the toilet.
I need to see you. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.
I’m not giving you up. You do know that, right?
I will wait as long as I’ll have to.
Actually, that’s not true. I’m coming for you, whether you like it or not. Because you need me. Because I need you. Because this is how we both heal.
Christian comes back home with Benton Herring. The latter looks sheepish and polite. They’re holding hands. Maybe Christian’s mom left, and that’s why he is feeling so brave.
“I’m sorry,” Benton says. I’m not sure if he means for how he treated me, how he treated Christian, or sorry about my brother. Maybe all of it. He doesn’t even sound like himself.
I nod. “Me too.”
I meet Dad outside our door.
It’s just too much to go inside the house without Ryan being there. I haven’t been back since the first night. It’s like admitting that he is actually gone, and I don’t think I can do it. Not right now.
Dad is a wreck. His face is tired and pale. Stubble everywhere. His eyes are swollen and crusted with sleep in the corners.
I collapse into a hug. His arms feel good. Safe. Familiar.
The tears are slipping from the corners of my eyes before I can stop them. Janice and Christian are here, standing beside us, and they’re not family, which makes me realize just how lonely we are. How lonely we’ve always been. Where are Ryan’s friends? All of his entourage? I don’t need anyone to answer
this question. They all ran away or are currently being investigated or arrested. Ryan was bound to get caught. But not like that.
God, not like that.
Christian rubs my back in circles awkwardly. Janice sighs and looks away, tears in her eyes.
“You told me,” Dad says, clutching me closer to his chest. “You told me, and I didn’t listen.”
“It’s okay.” I sniff.
Our world is broken, and nothing can fix it. The sun sets. The birds stop chirping.
And it finally hits me that Ryan is gone. Forever.
The next day is the funeral.
People from the neighborhood gather at the local cemetery, but not many of them. Not as much as I’d like to see, that’s for sure. Some have work. Some don’t have a ride. Some just don’t care. I’m wearing a black long-sleeved dress, and Dad is swimming in a suit he borrowed from a neighbor who is three sizes bigger than him.
The event starts at church. An open casket event. Ryan is there, looking peaceful, beautiful, and more than all of that—he looks like himself. I know it’s stupid, but it’s truly difficult to comprehend someone is gone when they’re physically next to you. When they look so alive. Just…asleep.
Then at the burial ceremony, I see Pierce. He doesn’t even try to be discreet, even though none of the staff from school attended. Christian and Benton are here, side-by-side, and Mr. James is making his way to the front line of people, as if he knew Ryan, as if he cared for Ryan, and even though this is my golden opportunity to hate him again, to push him away once more, I don’t have the energy to do so.
When the ceremony is over, I walk toward Christian and Benton. I hug my best friend. Herring taps my shoulder like he wants to tell me something.
“Mr. James is here,” Benton says. I nod.
“He must’ve heard about my brother,” I say dumbly.
Misbehaved Page 22
