“I was freaked,” Zach replied. “Sometimes when you’re looking for something, you know, you just see what you’re expecting to see instead of what’s really there.”
“But you were trying to find a cop.”
“Yeah, but I was pretty disoriented.”
“I’ll say.” She traced a finger along his good arm. “We’re damn lucky they’re not charging us with trespassing, especially with you coming on like such a goober.”
“Hey, I got help for Tally. Cut me some slack.”
“I am cutting you slack. You have no idea how hard I’d be razzing you if you hadn’t helped Tally.”
Someone from the nurse’s station called his name, and he was handed a packet of papers. Fairen had called his father, and he was on his way. In the meantime there was nothing to do but wait, with Fairen to keep him company. He could think of worse ways to spend an evening.
“Your shoe’s untied,” she observed as he sat down.
He held up his splinted wrist helplessly.
“Oh, yeah.” She bent to tie it for him. “Does it still hurt pretty bad?”
“Not as bad as before. The Percocet helped.”
“What’s Scott’s beef with you, anyway? The way he went off on you was completely mental.”
“Beats the hell out of me.”
“I swear, he and Tally are made for each other. Between him coming after you like a pro wrestler and Tally hallucinating she saw needles in that shaft, they’re like the king and queen of overreactions. This was just supposed to be a simple tour of a historical site, for research purposes. It’s not even their project, and they had to go muck it up.”
She traced the Velcro bands of his splint, lightly, where it rested on his leg. He said, “Thanks for everything. For taking me to the hospital and calling my folks and all that. And for doing three-quarters of the project. I guess I should mention that part, too.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Well, I won’t forget it. I’ve had better nights than this one, that’s for sure.”
She ran her hand along his inner thigh. “Me, too.”
For what seemed like the first time in hours, he smiled.
“What are you doing Monday night?” she asked. He glanced at her, and she added, “The school’s doing Advent Spiral tomorrow, but I thought maybe you and I could do something over break. Not with the whole crew. Just us.”
“I don’t even now if my folks will let me go to the Spiral, after this. I’ll probably be grounded.”
“I doubt that. I already covered for you. Told your folks it was all Tally’s fault. She called Scott in a panic from the elevator shaft and he dragged us all there to rescue her. You’re a hero.”
He laughed. “That’s awesome. I hope they bought that.”
“They did. Monday I’m supposed to be going to the Wicker Man Festival at the lake, with my cousin. Celebrate the start of vacation. We already have tickets, but I can get you an extra one. I have connections.”
“That sounds cool.”
She smiled. “Awesome. It’ll be good to spend time with you again. On a regular date. Act our age this time.”
He nodded and examined his wrist. “I can’t even tell you how good that sounds.”
27
When I came to bed late that night I sat on the edge of the mattress cautiously, as though Russ might flop over like a corpse in a movie, arms splayed, eyes fixed. But beneath the covers it was warm. I leaned over him and tipped my ear toward his face. He snored faintly, the same as always.
I turned my back to him and bunched the covers beneath my chin. My scalp still felt sore where Zach had pulled my hair. My skin burned from the friction that had lasted just long enough to rub me raw. He was often rough, but normally a little apologetic about it, and when he took it too far I found subtle ways to turn it around. This time I didn’t dare, suspecting he was doing what he needed to do to make it work. I could bite my lip through an encounter that felt more than a little like rape, or I could have nothing.
I took the rape.
I thought of him out somewhere in the night with Scott, free-spirited and cheerful, the way he had been when I had first met him. I pictured him with his foot up on a chair in some fast-food restaurant, the razor-trimmed edges of his black hair framing his smiling face, purged for the night of all his tension. He was with them, but in some secret place in his mind he was remembering the moments with me. I felt perversely grateful for that.
With Russ dozing peacefully behind me, I drifted off to sleep.
And then the phone rang.
“Why are you at the hospital?” I asked Scott groggily.
He rattled off some story I could only understand in pieces: an elevator accident, Tally was a little bit hurt but hardly so, a police escort, Temple was in trouble.
“What kind of trouble?”
“For bringing us to Pinerest Hospital.”
“I thought you said you were at Holy Cross.”
Scott growled into the receiver. “Damn it, Mom, I don’t think you listened to a freakin’ thing I said. I need you to pick me up. Do you get that part?”
“Scott, there’s no reason to be surly about it. I can barely understand you.”
“Yeah, story of my life.”
At the hospital I found Scott easily, sitting in a molded plastic chair near the exit, alone. He didn’t look to be in any way injured, which relieved me, considering how little I’d managed to put together from his phone call. I asked, “Where’s Tally?”
“Her folks picked her up.”
“And they didn’t offer you a ride?”
“They’re not exactly happy with me right now.”
I sighed. “What about the rest of your friends? Was anybody else hurt? Does anyone need a ride home?”
“No.”
In the car I pieced the story together slowly, using yes-and-no questions that forced Scott to produce answers. Finally I asked, “So how did you manage to get help?”
“We sent Zach out.”
“Oh, so Zach was there.”
“Yes, Zach was there,” he said peevishly. “Zach is always around when you need him.”
I slowed for a red light. “Well, even if the police aren’t charging you with trespassing, I think we’ll need to have some consequence. You should have had better sense than to go to a place that dangerous.”
“A consequence. Gosh, I didn’t realize you were still playing that game.”
“What game is that?”
“The mom game. You haven’t even asked for my grade report from last month. I got my SAT scores in October, and my boot is still sitting by the fireplace.”
“Is it my job to put your boots away now?”
“I put it there for St. Nicholas Day. It was over a week ago. I put out my boot for you to put candy in like you always do, and it’s still sitting there with nothing in it.”
I chuckled, but an immediate wave of remorse seized me. Scott was right. Every year of his life I had filled his boot with candy and little toys, or, in recent years, a gift card or two. Always the candy was special and unusuaclass="underline" barley lollipops made in antique molds, hand-pulled candy canes, marzipan animals from Germany. It was the joyful, noncommercial version of Christmas that I delighted in more than the shock and awe of Christmas morning. This year it had not even entered my mind.
But I turned to look at the tall boy beside me, with his five o’clock shadow and his broad shoulders, and I said, “I thought you’d gotten a little old for that sort of thing. You spend nearly all your time these days holed up in the den with Tally, and don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing in there. I don’t think that girl has ever bothered to say hello, but I’m hearing plenty from her, believe you me.”