Not So Easy

by Sherry Gammon

  He nodded. His aunt had the disease. She had to be very careful about what she ate because almost everything made her sick. That would explain why Izzy was so skinny, and why she took pills all the time. He’d seen his aunt in the middle of an attack once. The pain was incredible. “I remember, sorry.”

  She settled back down. “So, is your mom still dating that scumbag?”

  “Tim? Yeah. I wish she’d dump him. I think he’s cheating on her.” He got up and went into the kitchen for some water. After a workout like that, hydration was a must. Izzy followed.

  “Of course, he’s cheating on her. They all do. What do you expect when she’ll only date the losers?” Izzy took a glass and poured herself some water also.

  “Water, JD. Seriously? I thought you hated water,” she teased.

  Max smiled. “Head injury, it’s messing with me. What can I say?” Soda and working out were a no-no. Coach drilled that into the team daily during the season.

  He bent over and set his empty glass in the dishwasher, when he felt Izzy tug on his shirt. “Oh my gosh, JD. This guy’s sick.” She glared at the ugly red welts on his back.

  “You’re telling me.” Max turned and pulled his shirt back down.

  “I think he’s worse than the last guy she dated. I just don’t get why you don’t tell her how they beat you.” Izzy shook her head.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid he’ll hurt her if she confronts him. This guy’s one sick creepo.”

  “Is he worse than my dad?” she asked. Her gaze fell to the floor for which Max was grateful, otherwise she would’ve seen his mouth drop open.

  “I-I don’t—”

  “You know the rules, fat boy. No one in the house unless an adult’s here, not that this ugly little stick would be much of a temptation.” Tim entered the kitchen with a small sack from the Burger Barn in his hand. He looked at Izzy and laughed.

  “Be quiet, Tim,” Max said, escorting Izzy out of the room by her arm.

  “You know what, fat boy? I don’t like this little attitude you’ve developed. You better watch your mouth.”

  Refusing to let JD get upset, he walked Izzy outside. “I’m going to head home. My dad’s on a date so he won’t be back till the morning. You can come over if you want. Maybe we can rent a movie or something.” She held out her left index finger again. “Oh, and I’m glad to see you’re finally wearing your contacts. They look good.”

  Max smiled, hooking his finger around hers. Again in unison they said, “Keep to the code,” with one hard shake, and she left. He went back inside and straight to his room, pulling out JD’s notebooks. He chose the titled The Princess Emma and settled on the bed to read. He figured since JD spent the morning working out with him, the least he could do was spend some time doing what JD enjoyed. Plus he wanted to get to know him a little better and this seemed the perfect way to do that.

  Later, Tim forbade him to go to Izzy’s. Instead, he spent the rest of the evening cleaning the house under the direction of Tim, who spent the evening on the phone talking to someone named Merissa. Undoubtedly the bleached blond, judging from the crude exchanges Max overheard.

  Tim left ten minutes before Mel was due home, only she called to say she would be late. Max finished up the last of his homework and went to bed. He hadn’t slept well last night, and after pushing JD’s body to the limit all day, he was exhausted.

  The next morning, he woke to the smell of bacon. He jumped out of bed and quietly went into the kitchen in case it was Tim cooking.

  He saw Mel, her hair pulled into a tight bun on top of her head, feverishly turning bacon in a skillet. The t-shirt and shorts she wore both had seen better days.

  “Good morning, sweetie.” She gave Max a kiss on the cheek. “I knew the smell of bacon would get you up.”

  Max took a piece from a nearby plate and bit into it. It was the best bacon he’d ever eaten. He picked up the package of the uncooked meat and discovered why. It was real pork bacon. His mom bought only turkey bacon. He took another bite and about moaned out loud. Sorry, mom. This so beats your turkey bacon.

  “Your one and only day off this week and you’re making breakfast, mom?” Max tried for another piece, but Mel playfully smacked his hand away.

  “A girl deserves a big breakfast on her birthday.” Mel added four more strips to the pan.

  “Today’s your birthday? Mom, I di—ah, forgot. I’m sorry.” Thanks for the heads up, Gabe.

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. You’ve had a rough few weeks with the accident and being in the hospital.” She took out a plate and set it down on the table for Max.

  “Where’s Tim? Sleeping?” Max asked.

  “No, bless his heart. He promised to help a friend move today so he’ll be gone most of the day. He did clean the house for me yesterday from top to bottom.” She slid three pieces of bacon on Max’s plate.

  “I cleaned the house for you from top to bottom. He sat on his butt and talked on the phone to someone named Merissa.” Max hoped to make her angry, so angry she’d toss Tim out.

  Instead, she laughed. “That little stinker, taking credit for your work. Thank you, sweetie.” She kissed the top of his head. “It looks wonderful.” Mel set a few envelopes next to her plate and he watched as she opened the small pile of birthday cards. She smiled at a few, setting them aside as she continued. Max ate his bacon slowly, having no idea when he’d get it again. He took his plate over to the stove for another piece and when he came back to the table, Mel was crying.

  “What’s wrong?” He set his plate down and slid his chair closer to Mel.

  “Oh, nothing.” She waved her hand as if to shoo a fly.

  “Mom, you’re crying. Obviously something’s wrong.”

  She looked at Max for several long moments. “I guess you’re old enough to know this, so I may as well tell you.” Max did not like the sound of that at all.

  “You already know that I got pregnant when I was seventeen and that your father and I had to get married. What you didn’t know was that grandma was, and still is for that matter, a bit of a religious zealot. She got mad at me and tossed me out of the house, telling me I was a sinner and God was going to punish me. She claimed I purposely made a mockery of her. Your grandma is well respected in her church and my pregnancy tarnished her reputation.

  “When your father was killed in the hunting accident fifteen years ago, she told me it was God’s way of punishing me for my evil sins. I never saw it that way. How could anyone think of you as evil?” She put her arms around Max and hugged him tight. “She’s not spoken to me since the funeral, but once in a while I get a birthday card, telling me she’s praying for my wicked soul.” She waved the card at Max. He took it and tore it into tiny pieces and tossed it in the trashcan.

  Hearing Mel’s story took him by surprise. He and JD had more in common than he would have guessed. His mom also got pregnant with him at seventeen, and her father was the local minister. She told him how she sat in their living room, with his father at her side, crying her heart out as she told her parents she was pregnant. Her dad put his arms around her and told her everything would be okay. If they wanted to get married, they could live with them until Max’s father finished college, and they’d help out with the baby. If they decided to give the baby up, they’d help find a good, loving home. Max had a hard time understanding JD’s grandmother and her crazy ideas. He also had a new respect for Mel and the burden she carried alone.

  “I love you, mom.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Birthday.” The love JD had for his mother swelled in his heart. More than ever, Max was determined in his mission to help JD.

  Chapter 10

  Monday started out like every other weekday in JD’s body; Max woke up feeling sick. He spent the entire morning trying to calm JD down, but his efforts fell flat. He did get JD past the impending feelings of doom that haunted him, for now, but the fear thing was another story.

  He shuffled to the bus stop, forcing JD’s fee
t to keep moving. Izzy was there already, with her back to the others on their corner. She smiled slightly, waving as Max approached. When he reached her, she slipped her left index finger around his and said low, “Keep to the code,” firmly shaking their intertwined pinkies once.

  Greg crossed the street, approaching him as Izzy let go of his finger. “Hey, Lumpy. Kill anyone lately, or did you take the weekend off?”

  “Back off, Greg.” Izzy stepped between him and Greg. Greg threw his head back and laughed. “Seriously, dude, you’re going to let this anorexic stick defend you? You really are a wimp.”

  Greg strutted back over to his corner, loudly telling everyone what had just happened. Amidst the laughter, the bus came, only instead of stopping in front of Greg and his friends, the bus stopped in front of Max and Izzy. The driver opened the door and Max followed Izzy up the steps. They took the first seat behind the driver. The rest of the kids loaded next. The driver stood and watched each and every student get on. No one touched Max or Izzy, though some did pull faces. Greg covertly flipped Max off.

  When everyone was seated, the driver, a pudgy older woman with curly gray hair, turned and faced the students. “My sister’s oldest child is in a coma. It seems a few kids at his school decided to hang him upside down from a flag pole, all in fun, mind you.” There was no missing her sarcastic edge. “The ropes broke and he fell fifteen feet, landing on his head. If he lives, he’ll be a vegetable. Bullying is not going to happen on this bus, do I make myself clear?”

  Several students nodded, some rolled their eyes. “By law, I can’t toss you off my bus, even though I’d love to do that to some of you.” She glared directly at Greg. “But I can call your parents and have them come get you. I’m sure they won’t mind missing work because you insisted on tormenting another student, right, Greg?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I can, and will, forbid you from getting on my bus if I see any of you bullying. Do I make myself clear?” Dead silence.

  “I said do I make myself clear?” Heads nodded and a few yeses were heard. She sat back down, offering Max and Izzy a wink as she did.

  The ride to school was very quiet. Max heard a few whispers, but nothing compared to the usual. The bus arrived at the school and the driver allowed everyone off except Max and Izzy.

  “I know you two asked me not to say anything to those kids about the way they mistreat you both. I hope I didn’t cause you any problems, but seeing my nephew with all those tubes running out of him about killed me,” she said, sadness tightening her kind face. “I didn’t point you out specifically, so I hope that will help.” Max thanked her quietly and left.

  While Max knew what happened on the bus was a good thing, JD stressed about it, which didn’t surprise Max at all. He got to gym class and quickly changed, keeping his back to the lockers so no one could see the marks on his back.

  “Move it, Lumpy,” Jeff said, shoving Max aside as they walked toward the basketball court three minutes later.

  “Coach is out today, and he’s asked me to sub for him.” Coach Mather stood before the class detailing the lesson plan. Max knew the coach and didn’t have much respect for him. He worked mostly with special teams in football, but sometimes he’d assist Coach during baseball season.

  “You’ll be divided up into four different teams,” Mather explained. “You’ll play each team for seven minutes. I’ll blow my whistle and your team will rotate to the next team until all the teams have played each other.” Coach Mather handed a ball to the team next to Max and one to him. Not expecting it, the ball bounced off Max’s stomach and dribbled across the court.

  Coach Mather laughed. “Good catch, Lumpy.” Max looked at him in surprise. He couldn’t believe what Mather had said. “Come on. Hustle it up and get the ball.” Mather shook his head in disgust and strutted away.

  Max jogged over to the ball and began bouncing it. It was worse than baseball. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out the rhythm. Max had all the grace and elegance of an athlete. JD had none, not one ounce. Several of his teammates trudged behind him, mocking his attempts. Fortunately, the whistle blew and they ripped the ball from his hands.

  The first two rounds, no one passed him the ball. He ran faithfully up and down the court, but no one bothered with him. Max worked with JD, refusing to allow him to quit, no matter how disheartening it seemed. All the while sweat poured off his body.

  It’s okay if you don’t get the ball, JD, this is still good exercise. Besides, no one is being mean, right? You can do this. Max repeated his pep talk a dozen times.

  The whistle blew and they switched again. Now he played opposite Jeff, his old teammate, and he could tell by the look in Jeff’s eyes this would not be good.

  And he was right—Jeff took every opportunity to shove and elbow Max in the back, rib cage, and even his forehead. Never once did the coach call a foul. Max continued to encourage JD, telling him to ignore Jeff, but slowly, JD pulled away, retreating. Soon Max no longer felt JD’s presence at all. He’d completely disengaged from the game, retreating into some safe place inside himself.

  Max almost welcomed the departure. To not have the heavy burden of self-hate, the unyielding doubt, hanging about his neck made taking the abuse easier. But it also meant JD wasn’t learning, growing, becoming stronger.

  After a particularly cruel elbow to the back, Max wanted nothing more than to turn and punch Jeff in the face. But with Jeff being a big-shot on the ball team, and everyone blaming JD for his family’s deaths, Max decided punching Jeff might not be a good idea.

  He did his best to avoid Jeff after that. Then the whistle blew. Jeff grabbed the ball and hurled it hard at Max’s head. “That’s for killing my friend.” It hit Max square in the face and he fell backwards onto the ground. Blood spewed everywhere. Max wiped under his nose, trying to clear the blood off his face, but it just kept coming.

  Coach Mather casually jogged over to Max. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork this is going to require?” He dropped the towel he’d been using to wipe the sweat from his brow onto Max’s face.

  “Who wants to walk Lumpy to the nurse?” he asked with a chuckle. No one volunteered. As the coach approached a large group of kids to ask, Max got up, and with the dirty towel pressed to his nose, took himself to the nurse’s office.

  “Oh dear, JD. Not again.” Nurse Ratched, a short plucky woman, took Max by the elbow and led him to a small room off to the side. It contained nothing more than two small cots covered in white sheets. Max thought it a bit depressing, but again, it wasn’t meant for partying. She pointed to the cot on the left and Max laid down. She returned a few moments later with an ice pack and placed it on his face.

  “Thank you,” he muffled out beneath the bag.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t worry about this because you come in quite regularly with a bloody nose, but since you’ve just gotten out of the hospital, I’m going to be more thorough.” She took his pulse and blood pressure and listened to his heart with a very cold stethoscope Max knew came straight from the freezer. She also shined a small flashlight into his eyes, checking his pupils.

  “So what happened? No, never mind. Let me guess. You can’t remember, right?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you won’t ever tell me. The kids who pick on you need to be punished, JD.” She brushed the hair from his forehead. “Rest. I have to fill out the paperwork for this. I’ll check on you in a few minutes.” Max heard her shoes tapping on the floor as she walked to the door. The clicking stopped and she added, “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

  “No,” Max assured her.

  “Alright. Just take it easy. If you feel sick to your stomach, let me know. I’m guessing you don’t want me to call your mom to come and get you, correct?”

  “Correct.” Max knew that without a car, she couldn’t come anyway.

  He lay with the musty smelling ice bag on his face, wondering why JD didn’t want to tell people about the abuse he went through. Did he not trust anyone? H
e wouldn’t tell Coach about his mom’s boyfriend beating him, and now the nurse and all his bloody noses.

  “Oh, no,” said Nurse Ratched from the office. “Take her straight back.”

  Max twisted his head around as Bo, the school’s quarterback, carried Emma into the room. Max sat up and spun his legs to the floor. His heart beat so hard it almost hurt. Em, only a few feet from me.

  “Put her right here,” the nurse said. Bo set her down roughly and her ponytail bounced.

  “Sorry, Em,” he apologized, stepping back.

  “I’m fine.” She brushed it off. “It’s just a scraped knee. I told Ms. Ringer I didn’t need to come here,” she insisted to the nurse.

  “You were trying to do the pyramid again, weren’t you?” Nurse Ratched didn’t wait for a reply. “Someone’s going to get killed doing that, mark my words. Come along, Bo, back to class.” She stormed out of the room, dragging the 225 pound football player with her.

  “She’s right, you know. You shouldn’t do them. It’s not worth the risk.” Max said boldly. Intimidation flooded JD as Bo set Em on the cot next to him, but Max’s desire to protect Em surged stronger. He’d begged her a million times not to do those stupid stunts. He’d seen her fall and get hurt way too often.

  “JD?” She leaned back a little. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. What happened to your nose?” Her eyes narrowed him as she spoke.

  “It collided with a basketball. No big deal. Can’t hurt this ugly mug.” Max laughed disparagingly. The thought was not his. It came straight from JD.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that about yourself, JD. It only makes you weak.” She shook her head slightly.

  Nurse Ratched interrupted their conversation, frustrating Max. He lay back on the bed and put the ice bag to his nose again.