“That makes sense.” Two and two came together. “That’s where Jack’s cousins go to school.”
Asher frowned, seeming uneasy.
I scanned my notes, counting the names of his siblings that I’d written down. Only seven. One was missing.
“You and Jack, you aren’t…” Asher’s voice trailed off.
I could sense what he didn’t ask, so I asked my own question, “Did you date Jack’s cousin?”
“You mean Emma?” Asher said quickly. His whole body tensed. “Our friendship was never like that.” A troubled expression flitted across his face. Every bit of mirth left his eyes.
At that moment, Montrose came to the front of the classroom holding a stack of papers. “Class! Your attention to the front.”
The backdrop of noisy chatter died down. Kenny was the last one speaking.
I glanced at the clock. Wow. He’d given us a full twenty minutes on that activity. The real shocker was how natural the conversation had finally flowed between Asher and me.
Like, after I got over initial anxiety, we’d really been able to talk.
As Montrose handed out a packet to each table, I looked sideways at Asher and smiled.
He caught my glance, and a satisfied grin stole across his face.
This really might be a good thing.
“For our next unit,” Montrose was saying, “we will be studying the lives and short short stories of Mark Twain, Nathanael Hawthorne, and Edgar Allan Poe—what is it, Lydia? Thank you for raising your hand this time.”
Snickers.
“You do realize that the sequence of your units is out of chronological order. Shouldn’t we have studied the Great Gatsby at the end of the semester? Mrs. Clark’s class…”
“I like studying Poe around Halloween.” A creepy grin lit Montrose’s face. “And the Puritans are an intriguing read around Thanksgiving. Now,” he looked away from Lydia, “there will be no final exam for this unit.”
“Hallelujah!” Kenny blurted out.
Montrose finished passing out the packets. “Throughout the next three weeks, you will each work with your partner on in-class reading assignments, creating a portfolio. All the reading assignments and questions can be found within what I handed out to you. Feel free to get together and finish the whole thing this weekend.” He paused and smiled like he knew no one would.
I might have finished it if it was an individual project. Instead, I’d gotten paired with Asher. If our earlier conversation indicated how easy working with Asher in the project would be, this might turn into the best part of my year.
Or the worst part when Sam found out.
Montrose continued, “The final assessment will be a biography on your partner and a story written together. The second page of the packet describes the assessment in better detail, along with alternative formats to the traditional—”
Jack held up his hand.
“Yes, Jack?” Montrose asked. “Thank you for raising your hand.”
Geoffrey snickered.
“Is this going to require us to meet outside of class with our partner?”
“Not necessarily. There will be in-class time to complete the assignments.”
Looking back at Jack, I saw how a look of relief stole over him. Next to him, Lydia fumed, shoulders hunched.
Did Montrose even know about them breaking up?
Montrose placed the final packet down in front of me, and I turned back to face the front of the classroom.
“Take home this assessment, read through it, and come back tomorrow having selected the possible format for your project.”
I glanced at the title, and then it occurred to me. This was the project Holden had gotten me to help him with his junior year of high school. The format of his story had been a music video based on a song he’d written about the two of us.
When he did it, the project had not been with a partner.
“Any questions? Didn’t think so.” He ignored several hands. As a couple classmates groaned, he added, “Come talk to me after class if you do. Now, on to free-writing Tuesday.”
“Free-writing Tuesday?” Asher said to me.
“Yeah, where he makes us write for twenty minutes.”
Sitting by each other forced to work together had its perks. I was feeling more and more at ease with him.
Maybe Montrose had been right yesterday. I definitely wasn’t going to tell him, though. The jury was still out as to whether this would come back to haunt me.
Montrose had paused, his gaze on Asher and me until we’d finished our exchange. “Today, I want each of you to select someone from your partner’s family for them to write a one-page story about why that person is important to them. You have until the end of class. You may share with each other if you want to when finished.”
As Montrose turned classic rock back on for us to listen to, Asher looked at me. “Who do you want me to write about?”
I glanced at the page. “Um—the sibling you haven’t told me about yet.”
“William.” Asher frowned, obviously not excited about that pick. “That’s fair.”
“Who are you going to have me write about?” I asked.
“Oops.” He smiled.
I pressed my lips together, narrowing my eyes.
“You don’t seem excited about that one.”
I shrugged and opened my notebook. “Nah, it’s okay. Just have to figure out where to begin.”
Right away, I jumped into mine, starting with before Oops was even born. I was two paragraphs into it before realizing that Asher hadn’t started. He sat there, twiddling his green pen around and around.
A hardness painted his expression. I hadn’t seen this on his face before. “Is there someone else you’d rather write about?”
“No.” Asher said quickly. “All my stories about William from before a year ago aren’t good ones.” He looked at me with a troubled smile. “William’s my...I want to write about why he’s my hero now, but I'm not sure I can.”
I rested a hand on his arm, letting myself feel the warmth of the contact rather than cutting it down. Positive source trickled inside, and I let it seep back into him. At the same time, I gave him an encouraging smile, not speaking at first, because I wasn’t sure what to say. “Maybe just start? We don’t have to share, either. Remember?”
A relieved smile stole over him. He turned to his notebook and nodded. Taking a deep breath, he dove into his writing. “Right.”
I continued with mine.
Finishing ahead of him, I reread my narrative. I didn’t like it, so I ripped it from my notebook and crumpled it up.
Asher paused to look at my newly formed ball. “In order for me to share mine with you, you have to have something for me to read.”
“You’re going to share?” I asked, surprised.
He shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”
After a few seconds, I unwrinkled my paper and spread it on the table. Am I willing to let him read this?
I read through it again.
My Narrative:
When I was ten, Dad was killed, and Mom moved us across town to a tiny apartment. Mom began to work more and more, and my brother Holden and I never saw her.
A few months later, we moved into a house, which was beautiful. The backyard opened up to a nature preserve, where Holden and I loved playing. Mom was never around to stop us.
One night, she never came home at all, even though we stayed up all night watching and waiting.
A month later, she is throwing up every morning.
A month later, she tells me she’s pregnant.
A month later, she has a ring on her finger.
A month later, she marries Daniel, who I know she doesn’t really love because they hardly spend time together. They just got married because of the baby that is coming.
So oops, she’s pregnant. Oops, she’s married. Oops, now I have a pseudo-dad who thinks he has some kind of responsibility to make sure I’m not messing up my life. And o
ops, there’s Ashley, Mom’s new little angel. Or rather, my little angel because Mom still works crazy shifts, and when Daniel isn’t home, I’m the one making sure she’s safe, healthy, and not drowning in bathwater.
So oops, I have a little sister, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
Asher’s Narrative:
William’s call vibrating in my lap wakes me as we’re driving home.
“You’re late,” he says. “I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”
With a look into the darkness to get my bearings, I say, “We’re near the Dunes Highway. Almost home.”
Up ahead, the light is red, but Emma doesn’t slow down. “Stop!” I shout.
As headlights blare into my window, I know I’m a goner. Metal crunches, glass shatters, and the airbag explodes. My leg snaps, and my ankle twists. The car flips, jerking me around. Yet, I’m conscious. Too conscious. Pain screams through my entire body. My right arm hangs loose.
Emma isn’t there anymore, and I finally start slipping out of life.
I wasn’t conscious for what happened next, but my brother William is the first on the scene. He gets me out of the car. Doctors say it’s his EMT training that saves me.
In the hospital, I wake up to blinding light and pain. William is there. I overhear someone say I might lose my leg, probably my foot. I freak out and tell William don’t let them take them off. He says I won’t lose anything. They put me under again.
Each time I wake, William is there, telling me what is happening. I ask more than once for Mom and Dad, but they are on a cruise. They are at work. They came while I was sleeping or in surgery.
Finally, I’m not at death's door, but I’m so full of meds and tubes, and I don’t understand half of what William tells me. I’m always forgetting. He tells me I ask the same questions over and over. My arm, my legs, my foot, my head—everything is broken, torn, or ripped. I might not be able to walk. Even if I do, I’ll never play basketball again.
No one knows how I’m even alive.
During the months of recovery that follow, because Mom is finishing her master’s and Dad works full time, William quits his job to help me. He’s the one at the hospital all the time. He makes all the decisions because Mom and Dad are so freaked out of their minds about everything.
He helps me with everything. Eating, going to the bathroom, getting dressed, bathing. I feel like a toddler again.
When I don’t want to keep going, he encourages me. When I think I can’t walk, he gets me back on my feet. Shows me that I can. Always patient and ever firm. He won’t let me quit. He won’t let me give up. He gets me to do what I believe is impossible.
He does it at first out of guilt for bullying me as a kid. Now, we’re best friends. I am scarred all over my body; but the big jagged one he left inside when we were kids is gone.
Without William, I may still be alive, but I wouldn’t have thrived. William will always be my hero.
From Asher’s first line, I was caught. I stopped after the first couple of lines with the realization, Asher was the passenger when Jack’s cousin got in an accident. A year ago, I remembered Jack saying something about how the passenger was probably going to die.
This must be why Asher was uncomfortable when we talked about Emma.
I had tears in my eyes when I finished. So many questions burned inside my mind, and I really wanted to meet William. No one would know looking at Asher that he’d gone through all of this.
Asher had finished reading already, and now slid my notebook back to me. He looked at me uneasily as he closed his notebook. “Oops is a cute nickname.”
“Thank you for sharing, Asher,” I said. “I can see why that was difficult for you to write. Is that what your flashback was about last week?”
He nodded. “Emma always wore those scented lotions and perfumes. Do you mind not sharing that with anyone? Jack’s the only one who knows.”
“Yeah, of course. Do you mind me asking what caused it?” I asked.
The bell rang, leaving me wishing we had more time to talk. Though the classroom probably wasn’t the place anyway.
Asher’s brows rose, and he looked at me with these wide-scared eyes. With the noise and bustle of the class in uproar around us, it was almost too loud for me to hear his quiet response.
“I did.”
12. Guilt
Guilt lurked in Asher’s eyes. He’d caused the car crash? But his story said he’d been asleep seconds before the accident happened. I really wished we were having this conversation somewhere else and not right as the bell rang.
As my classmates raced to get out of the room, I remained in my seat, confused. “How did you?” I asked.
Asher was about to answer, but Montrose stood and leaned across the table to hold out a hall pass to him.
“Your counselor wants to talk with you about how your new schedule is going.” Montrose didn’t sound or look happy. “He’s wondering if you want to switch back.”
Switch back? My heart skipped with dark source at that possibility. I was finally getting used to Asher being in math and lit with me. Finally ready to open up more to him—especially having being partners as my crutch.
“What? No.” Asher took the pass. “I talked to him yesterday. I was failing the honor classes.”
If he’d been in the honor classes before, that meant he was in Sam’s. Why did that thought make my heart race?
Asher looked back at me, his gaze quickly moving past to someone else. “Jack.”
I looked up at my red-haired friend. He was about to pass us on his way out of class but paused.
Rising, Asher whispered something to Jack about talking to me about the accident.
Clenching his jaw, Jack took a step back. “You weren’t supposed to tell—”
“Tara, I have to run, but Jack can answer your question.”
Jack growled at Asher. “You know better than I do.”
Everyone else had dispersed, and I felt left behind as the only one still seated, frozen in the jumble of revelations swarming me.
Asher retreated out of the class, sending one last worried glance in my direction.
Finally, I rose and walked alongside Jack. Instead of heading directly to science, I followed Jack down the stairwell to our lockers.
“Asher never gives direct answers about what happened leading to the accident,” he muttered for me to hear. “Just vague, redirecting comments, because he gets too emotional.”
Frowning, I leaned against my locker, watching our classmates around us as Jack dove into his.
“Probably not the best time to talk?” I said.
Jack shook his head. “I’ll be here by seven tomorrow if you want to know more. No one’s usually around until about ten after.”
Back at home that afternoon, I sat on my bed. My current events binder from social studies last year rested on my lap. On my way home, I remembered one of the stories I’d printed and included was about Jack’s cousin.
Did I want to pry for more information? Asher wasn’t the only one who’d wanted to start fresh. I had.
Unsure I wanted to travel down the road into Asher’s flawed past, I set aside the binder and picked up the assessment page for Montrose’s new unit.
I read its description. It almost sounded fun. We were supposed to write a biography of our partner and a short story together. But the format didn’t have to be written. Other options included a movie, recorded interview, photo book, song, poster, radio broadcast, audio story, or create your own. A lot were options that would require us to spend time out of school together. It would be safer to choose formats that we could finish in class, so I circled internet biography and short story, then stared at it too long, regretting I wasn’t braver.
What if he switches back into his other classes? Classes Sam was in.
I didn’t like that thought. But I also couldn’t get over the guilt in Asher’s eyes when he told me he’d caused the car crash.
How could Asher blam
e himself? Emma had run a red light. If anyone was at fault, wasn’t it her?
For Asher to be guilty didn’t make sense, but it had to be what brought him close to tears every time I mentioned Emma. He blames himself for her being in a wheelchair. Why?
Whatever the reason, it must be why Jack was so unfriendly toward him. Which meant there had to be truth behind Asher’s admission. Is it something I should know about before getting too close to him?
Sucking my lip, I opened the binder and flipped through the pages until I reached the end of September, then slowed, looking at them more carefully. Pretty soon, I came to the one I’d labelled, “Jack’s Cousin Emma.”
The picture of her car, flipped upside down with the passenger side all smashed in, was heart-wrenching. Whispering, I read.
Portage— Two teenagers are in critical condition following a car accident Saturday night.
The incident occurred at approximately 11:30 p.m. Friday at the intersection of 249 and Midwest Steel Highway.
According to witnesses, the 17-year-old female driver of a 2016 Honda Accord ran a red light, attempted to make a left turn, and was hit by an oncoming 2019 Ford Expedition.
The female driver, who is from Ogden Dunes, was not wearing a seatbelt and was ejected from the vehicle. She is in serious condition. A 16-year-old male passenger, also of Ogden Dunes, suffered life-threatening injuries and is in critical condition.
The male driver of the Ford Expedition and his wife were hospitalized and released this afternoon with minor injuries.
According to police, the teenagers were driving home from a party at the time of the accident. Police report the female teen was speeding while under the influence.
First on scene was Officer William Scoville of the Ogden Dunes Police Department. His immediate EMT actions are being praised for preserving the life of the passenger.
“It’s a miracle he’s still alive,” Scoville said. “I felt God guiding me through what I needed to do with him until the rescue workers arrived."
The Changeling's Source (Evedon Legacy Book 1) Page 13
