Knockout

by K. A. Holt

  Maybes hurt more than Nos

  Mom says

  almost to herself

  and that’s when

  I stomp

  away.

  Timothy and I are sitting on the couch

  just writing back and forth now.

  How is this easier

  than words out of our mouths?

  I’m not sure.

  But it is.

  I guess he has no words

  for rolling his eyes

  because he stares at me,

  takes the pen,

  rolls his eyes

  then writes:

  This is probably the time

  I should mention

  the breathing through a straw feeling

  but instead

  I write back:

  And he snatches the pen

  writes:

  After a minute Timothy takes a breath,

  puts his hand on my arm

  gives a half smile.

  writes:

  I just want him to see

  what’s out there

  I want him to see

  how things

  can be different.

  How can we trust him

  after everything?

  Maybe everything is a result

  of us NOT trusting him.

  When have we given him space

  to just be . . . him?

  We can’t afford different.

  We can do anything.

  Can we?

  Miracles happen, Mom.

  Don’t we know that

  better than anyone?

  The dishes clatter

  as Mom and Timothy

  wash and dry

  and I hide

  a little mouse

  around the corner

  twitching my ears

  listening

  listening

  listening.

  All I do now is read

  Timothy’s old journal.

  I can’t believe

  the things he did.

  I can’t believe

  how much of his time was

  spent on . . . me.

  No wonder Timothy hates Dad.

  I never knew all of it . . .

  how he just left

  with no word,

  how Mom and Timothy

  struggled so hard.

  It was just . . .

  so much.

  I never knew it was

  that bad.

  Mom says I can’t

  just flat-out

  stop

  seeing Dad

  so

  I had my vacation from him

  but now

  here I am . . .

  Ta-da.

  You can keep boxing, you know.

  One concussion shouldn’t end

  a promising career.

  Dad says this

  when he picks me up

  as if nothing has happened.

  And instead of feeling mad,

  instead of feeling upset,

  it feels like

  the first good news

  I’ve ever had

  in my whole

  dang

  life.

  But then I remember—

  There’s no way Mom will say yes,

  I sigh.

  She’s still so mad I lied,

  she might never forgive me

  ever.

  I’ll talk to her.

  He sounds so confident

  it makes me laugh.

  Have you ever met Mom?

  I ask.

  And now Dad laughs.

  Just let me talk to her.

  I don’t really get it,

  Dad says,

  wiping beer foam

  from his beard.

  This school

  Xaviers

  seems a little

  tooty-fruity,

  doesn’t it?

  Why do you need

  a snooty school,

  Sport?

  Timothy lived through regular school

  and he’s a big

  strapping

  man

  now.

  Dad sips his beer.

  Wipes his beard.

  At least

  as far as I can tell.

  I don’t know why

  I thought he’d understand.

  Sigh.

  When I can’t breathe like this

  it’s different

  this tightness

  in my throat

  and I feel my chest contract

  feel it act

  like a flat

  balloon

  with its sides stuck together

  not filling

  just sucking sucking

  and it scares me

  to feel invisible hands

  squeezing my throat

  when my lungs

  for once

  are ready to roll.

  It’s starting to scare me

  more

  so I finally tell Mom

  and of course

  she freaks.

  I don’t like these symptoms

  Mom says

  as I suck my inhaler

  and it continues to not work

  (stupid inhaler).

  I think we should go to Cincy.

  Now.

  (Now!)

  Spring break is practically here,

  we’ll try to go a week earlier.

  She bites her lip.

  It means she’s worried.

  And that makes me worry.

  And that makes me

  not breathe

  even more.

  I’m tired of this island at lunch.

  I’m tired of missing Tam.

  I’m ready to fix it.

  I walk up to her table,

  everyone stops talking.

  Hi.

  Tam’s face is stone.

  She looks right at me.

  Hi.

  (Kate says a stone-faced hi, too.)

  I cough. I keep talking.

  How are you?

  Fine. How are you?

  Fine. Well, not so fine.

  Looks like we’re going to Cincy

  for spring break.

  Earlier, actually,

  to make sure my lungs

  aren’t about to fall out

  or whatever.

  Tam’s forehead wrinkles

  that worried look I know so well

  and she starts to say something

  but Kate jumps in,

  Wow, that sounds awesome.

  A road trip

  to the hospital?

  Looks like you’re on some kind of

  hospital tour these days.

  Way to live it up, Levi.

  Way to live life to the fullest.

  I almost tell Kate

  about all the times

  I nearly died

  but then I decide

  No

  she’ll just say something dumb

  and I’ll want to scream

  so rather than that

  I tell her she’s mean.

  You think I’m mean?

  Kate seems genuinely shocked.

  I nod.

  Yeah.

  I forget I was talking to Tam,

  I just

  barrel forward

  my mouth

  a runaway train.

  You’ve stolen Tam

  I say.

  I’m like a little fly

  you swat away,

  and now you think it’s funny?

  A sick kid in a hospital?

  Who’s sick now?

  I say.

  But. Levi

  Tam says, standing tall

  arms crossed.

  Don’t you think you’re mean, too?

  She glances at Kate,

  her lips pressed tight,

  and Kate’s eyes look from me to the table

  before she sighs
.

  You made fun of her

  with that stupid chicken head,

  not even trying to be friends,

  ignoring HER at lunch every day.

  We aren’t enemies, Levi.

  We aren’t enemies, Kate.

  We can all be friends.

  Can’t you two dummies see that?

  It’s a standoff,

  the three of us.

  I want to say I already apologized.

  I want to say Kate came from nowhere

  and now she’s everywhere.

  I want to say I miss how Tam and I were.

  I want to say I miss her.

  But I can’t find any words

  so I walk away.

  I walk away and

  BAM

  in my face

  signs and flyers

  mascot tryouts

  coming up.

  Every page

  every word

  stabs me

  in the heart.

  I want to knock.

  I want to go in.

  I want to take his journal

  or any paper

  and ask him

  about Tam

  about what I should do

  but I don’t.

  His back is to the door

  headphones on,

  books everywhere.

  I’m sure Future Dr. Timothy

  will be studying for a while

  and for once

  I don’t want to bother him.

  I just stand there for a second

  and watch him work so hard.

  This is not a yes.

  Not a commitment.

  Not anything.

  Mom stops talking.

  Starts over again.

  I know this is not exactly a

  superfun spring break trip.

  So I was thinking . . .

  IF Dr. Sawyer says you’re fine.

  IF he says you’re OK,

  then maybe

  maybe

  we can think about Xaviers

  maybe.

  Mom talks.

  Timothy smiles.

  So when we’re done in Cincinnati

  IF everything goes well

  we’ll swing by Xaviers,

  take a short tour.

  I start to jump and clap

  Mom holds out her hand.

  Remember:

  It’s not a yes.

  Not a commitment.

  Not anything.

  Just a quick visit.

  Because it’s on the way home.

  And I want you to have something . . .

  to look forward to.

  And your brother wouldn’t stop bugging me.

  So I said yes

  just to get him to leave me alone.

  Mom’s face is stern.

  Serious.

  But there’s a smile there, too,

  so I do three cartwheels

  and shadowbox Mom’s face.

  Timothy walks back to his room

  but on the way

  he pokes my arm,

  he winks.

  My insides have exploded

  into sparkles.

  I’m sure Dr. Sawyer

  will be like

  Whoa,

  this is new

  why does Levi’s body

  have all these sparkles inside?

  and that will be because

  WE ARE VISITING

  (If he says OK,

  which . . .

  he will, won’t he?

  I’ll be OK, won’t I?)

  I grab the phone to call Tam

  and then I remember

  she’s still mad

  AND she doesn’t know

  anything

  at all

  about Xaviers.

  Tam Tam Tam

  my very best,

  my only friend.

  If I change schools

  what would happen

  then?

  I have so many “friends”

  but only have

  (had?!)

  one real friend.

  I make people laugh

  but does that count

  as making friends?

  It’s something,

  the crowd-pleasing,

  but it’s not everything.

  It’s not lie on the floor

  and talk about secrets

  and throw popcorn at each other

  and watch movies all night

  and visit when you’re sick

  and finish each other’s sentences.

  Will I find someone else to do that with?

  Do I even want to?

  I can feel my nerves

  tingling in my fingertips

  so instead of calling

  I’ll just walk.

  It’s kind of far,

  but not too far,

  and Mom said yes

  when I told her

  so I’m walking

  to Tam’s house

  to tell her about everything

  to see if anything

  can ever be

  OK

  again.

  How’s your face?

  Tam stands in the doorway,

  looking at me

  as she chews her lip.

  She mimes Kate’s slap.

  I had to get a transplant.

  Does it look the same?

  She rolls her eyes,

  smiles,

  lets me in.

  It looks great.

  Then, more seriously

  I’m glad you’re OK.

  I’ve missed you, Levi.

  I’ve missed you, too, Tam.

  My eyes are wide.

  In a hole?

  It’s not a big deal.

  Tam, that is so gross.

  It’s not! It’s just how it is!

  She laughs, and it sounds

  so perfectly perfect

  my whole body relaxes.

  My whole self smiles.

  I could never do that.

  I sit on her bed.

  Sure you could.

  No way.

  Then how will you ever camp?

  In a cabin. With a real bathroom.

  Ha. Well, good luck with that.

  Tam’s family’s big spring break trip is coming up.

  They are hiking in some forest

  up a mountain

  and to a lake

  no bathrooms

  for seven days.

  That makes

  Cincinnati

  seem like

  a piece of cake.

  Would you really go?

  If your mom says yes?

  She’ll say No

  I say that

  but don’t want to

  believe it.

  But if she goes crazy

  and actually says yes,

  would you?

  I shrug.

  I hate school without you.

  I’m there every day.

  But her face—

  it tells me

  she knows what I mean.

  I would miss you so much, Tam.

  But I already miss you so much.

  So.

  I look at my hands

  feel the bed squish as she sits

  next to me.

  Her shoulder bumps mine.

  I bump hers back.

  I told Kate

  to be nicer

  but she’s

  jealous of you.

  My eyebrows shoot up

  sky high.

  Jealous of me? Why?!

  She’s used to being . . .

  on top, I guess.

  You knocked her down a notch

  with that mascot thing.

  Plus, she knows how close we are.

  She can never be my Levi, you know,

  never in a million years.

  She’s my Kate.

  You’re my Levi.

  I love you


  both.

  There’s a great sweep

  of calm

  as I lean my head

  on Tam’s shoulder

  and take a deep breath.

  Finally,

  finally

  feeling knocked out

  from something good.

  Have fun pooping in a hole!

  I play punch Tam’s arm.

  She punches me back.

  Harder.

  Have fun getting your guts scraped out.

  You know that’s not what they do,

  goof.

  Have fun getting your brain transplant, then.

  Try not to crack your head,

  or get struck by lightning,

  or get eaten by a bear.

  You’re the one getting eaten

  by a bear

  if you don’t poop

  in the right hole.

  Touché

  she says

  laughing.

  Have a good spring break, Levi.

  Take care.

  You too, Tam.

  You, too.

  I know it’s silly

  to worry

  but I worry.

  What if something is really wrong with me?

  What if Dr. Sawyer says no way to Xaviers?

  What if something bad is happening inside me?

  What if I need a trach again?

  I try not to think

  about all the things

  that could be wrong with me

  but in my mind I see

  the doctor from when my head got bashed

  I see her worry

  and that worries me.

  Where’s your bag?

  I say to Timothy

  when I barge into his room

  looking for socks

  to steal.

  Why aren’t you packing?

  I have to study, Levi,

  the MCAT

  is so soon.

  I have to stay here.

  How is this going to work?

  Timothy is always there

  when I wake up,

  holding a purple popsicle

  and a blue sports drink