Chapter Two
The next morning, I’m woken up by the unbearable growling that’s
coming from my stomach. I haven’t eaten in about sixteen hours, and I
feel like my stomach is shrinking with every second. But I definitely don’t
want to face Mom and Jeff, so I just press my head against the pillow and
try to ignore the pain. I’m really thinking of giving up right now.
Just grow some balls, Luke, and face them. No big deal. You’ll survive. It’s not
like they’ll kill you. After a while, I decide to look at the time, and it’s only
seven fifteen! Suddenly, I start to hear the faint crackling and popping of
eggs . . . or maybe sausage? Oh my god, it’s too good to be true! Wait—or
is it? This is probably some type of trap to try to get me to leave my room.
But I won’t do it! They think they can lure me out over some measly
strips of bacon, sausage, egg, or whatever the hell it is. Well, buddy, do
they have me wrong.
It’s been almost a full hour, and the more I think about it, the
hungrier I get. But I’m not going to leave this room! The only way I
would leave would be if the devil himself came up from hell and dragged
me out; but even then, I still would be kicking and clawing. As I sit there
in silence, I notice that the popping has stopped.
Maybe they already ate and had to leave. Maybe I can sneak out the door
and grab something to eat and then run back before someone sees me.
Okay, Luke, just go. Be a man! Just do it, I tell myself. After a few, I
walk over to the door ever so slowly, opening it just enough so that I
can squeeze my head out and look down the stairs. There doesn’t seem
to be anyone around, so I open the door and slide through it. On the
stove, I see a pan full of eggs and pancakes. I don’t hesitate very long
Forgetting What’s Forgiven 13
before grabbing a handful of eggs and then shoving it down my throat,
following that with a round of pancake. I’m too busy inhaling the food
that I hardly notice a strange chuckling sound coming from behind me.
I turn around, still having parts of a pancake wedged in my mouth. I see
Mom standing there, leaning against the wall with her hand on the side
of her face.
“Luke, what are you doing?”
Crap, I’ve been caught, and now, I’m going to get an ass chewing like
this world has never seen before. And I already know what she is going
to say. “How could you put me through this?” Then she will tell me some
story when she was a kid and how she did bad things. I know the whole
sloppy routine.
“Are you going to swallow that, sweetie?” She giggles as she wipes the
piece of egg hanging at the corner of my mouth. I can’t believe it; she
just stands there. Why isn’t she ripping me to shreds now? But for some
odd reason, she doesn’t. She just stands there, laughing.
“Are you okay?” I ask suspiciously.
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just that I haven’t seen you like this in a long, long
time. Gosh, you really have grown up on me, haven’t you? If you don’t
want to talk right now, you don’t have to. I know how you think Jeff can
be a bit overbearing at times . . . Okay, you’re right. But you will have to
come out and talk sooner or later.”
She’s right. I can’t stay locked up in my room forever. Sooner or
later, I’ll have to go out and face them.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I just couldn’t take it when he was making fun of
her. It made me act like a whole other person. You told me I should
always stand up for her.”
“Yes, Luke, but you do not have to punch that person, especially
when that person is your teacher. It’s a miracle the only thing that was
taken away was your license. I don’t know what I would do if my baby
was thrown in jail.” A small tear finds its way down her face and onto the
fold of her chin. “I wouldn’t even be able to sleep knowing you were in
there.” She then wraps her arms around me and starts crying; then, she
begins running her fingers through my hair. I never thought that all this
would put her through so much pain. She holds me so close to her, I can
hear her breathing. It’s like she’s afraid if she lets me go, I’ll be gone
forever.
In as soft as a voice as I can get, I whisper, “I won’t leave you, Mom. I
promise.” I can feel tears start to well up in the corners of my eyes. After
a while, her grip starts to loosen. I know my mother loves me, but she
never has broken down like this in front of me before.
14 Josiah Collins
“Mom, I’m sorry. I don’t help much around the house and with Kate
much either, but I promise I’ll start doing more to help.”
She tries to say something, but she’s still crying. Finally, she wipes the
tears from her face, leaving red streaks behind where the tears had once
burned trails into her skin. Then with a sigh, she says, “You’re the best
son a mother could ask for . . . I love you so much. Don’t ever forget that,
Luke. You better go to your room before Jeff sees you.”
As I turn around to leave, she makes a small plate of eggs, then
hands it to me. Right before I walk around the corner to the stairs, I
turn around with tears now streaming from my eyes and say, “Thanks,

Chapter Three
I can’t remember the last time I spent so much time alone. It’s like I’m
grounded for life, except they haven’t even given me my punishment
yet. They say that your teen years are supposed to be your glory years,
but I beg to differ. Lately, they’ve really sucked. There’s more work,
more responsibility; and if you get in a fight, you could pretty much get
arrested. It feels like the weight of the world is bearing down on me. So
if these are supposed to be the glory days, what the hell am I doing here?
Kate keeps coming into my room to check up on me. She always
wants me to play hide-and-seek, but I tell her I’m doing my schoolwork.
I know I don’t really have any work—well, not yet anyway—but I know
next week, they’ll give me work, so I’m not really lying. I don’t know why
I bother to tell her; she probably doesn’t understand what I mean. She
can hardly understand what Mom means when she tells her to clean her
room, and she’s almost eleven.
I love her and all, but sometimes, she’s a lot of work, and I can tell
it’s starting to wear on Mom. We don’t even go to the doctors anymore.
Mom says that doctors are wrong; they can’t tell when she is going to
die. They have several names for her condition. A lot of people call her
retarded, others just stupid, but she has Down syndrome. When I was
younger, I really didn’t understand what the term mongoloid meant, but
now I do. She’s always been this way. But like my mom says, it’s hard for
people to accept something they don’t know, and they don’t know my
sister or what’s wrong with her. I mean, sure, they’ve seen stuff like this
on TV, but they really don’t know what it’s like to live with her.
16 Josiah Collins
After forty-eight slow and agonizing hours, it’s finally Monday, but I
can’t go to school. We got a call yesterday. The school board told Mom
that I’m suspended for the next ten days. I’m not even allowed within
one hundred yards of the school. But when most kids are suspended,
they usually do cool stuff like get drunk or steal somebody’s car, maybe
even egg someone’s house. Hell, I don’t know whatever floats their boat.
They also said if they caught me prowling around, the police would
become very involved in my current life. I’m not really scared of them
anyway. Then again, like Steve always says, “You don’t have to be scared
of me because I can still kick your ass.” That doesn’t scare me away either.
I’m going to do whatever the hell I want. It’s America!
So I decide to go see Justin at the school parking lot so we can talk.
Adding to that, I’ve had a really crapper for a weekend, and to top that
off, I got my license suspended, so I figured talking to Justin would make
my day a bit better. At this point, I honestly wouldn’t care if Kate stayed
home. At least, I would have somebody to talk to. I’m creative, but I can’t
talk to a wall for nine hours.
I start walking toward the school around two thirty eight. It usually
takes me about fifteen minutes to get there. Plus, I don’t want to be late.
Then everyone would be gone, and I would look like an idiot.
As I walk up the parking lot, I can see Justin’s dark-blue truck. I slowly
walk toward it, trying not to look too conspicuous about it, so I sneak
up against the side of the door and pull the handle. It’s open! I crawl
into the backseat and crouch down into the floorboard. A few minutes
pass, and I can hear rows of people start to pour out and down the little
hillside right above the parking lot. Finally, I recognize the voice that I
have been waiting for—it’s Justin’s. He opens the door and throws his
half-ton backpack into the backseat, which happens to almost crush my
spine. I let a low grunt. “Ugh.” It sounds like I just crapped my pants.
But he just looks around and goes back to whatever he’s doing. He is
such an idiot. What, would he do if I was some psycho killer? Actually, he
probably would just stand there like a deer in the headlights. As he starts
the truck, I can tell that he is on the way to his dad’s house because of the
turns he is making. You know, I’ve never really thought of this before,
but he really sucks at driving. The last bump he hit made my head crack
onto some stupid metal box. Wait—why does he even have a metal box back
here anyway?
I’ve had about enough of this stupid ride. I’ve hit my head, had my
spine crushed, and it smells like something died back here. So I clear
my throat as quietly as I can; then with a deep voice, I say, “Don’t move.
Don’t even try to reach for your phone. And don’t try anything stupid.
Got it, kid?”
Forgetting What’s Forgiven 17
I’ve always been good at disguising my voice when my friends and
I would hang out at each others houses. We would prank-call people,
and they would always ask me to be the one to do the calling, probably
because they were pansies. But for the most part, I was the only one who
could do voices.
To my surprise, he doesn’t answer.
“So tell me, Justin, what is your greatest fear?”
He still doesn’t answer. I honestly think he’s going to crap his pants!
Oh, this is too good to be true. He probably thinks I’m going to kill him
and dump his dead body off some ditch.
“What do you want . . . sir?”
Oh, what a sissy. Is he really going to sweet-talk me? I clear my throat
again so I can maintain my sinister tone.
“Ah, so you do talk. Now that I know you actually have enough
intellect to talk, I need you to do something very important for me. Can
you do that?”
“Sure,” he says with uncertainty in his voice.
“Okay, now we’re rolling. First, I need you to drive me out to your
house.” I can hear some hesitation in his voice as he tries to say something.
“Speak up!” I say.
“Please, sir, don’t kill me. I’ll give whatever you want. My family will
give it to you. Trust me. We have lots of money.”
Well, I guess he isn’t wrong about that. His dad is pretty well-off, and
his mom is really well-off too, especially since she divorced him.
Out of curiosity, I peek over the seat, and I can see his hands starting
to shake. I quickly dunk back down so he won’t see me through the
rearview mirror. I feel so bad for doing this to him, but on the other
hand, he did pull down my pants at gym a couple months ago. Talk
about embarrassing, although it did get me a lot of compliments from
the ladies.
So it really wasn’t such a bad thing after all. I think I also got some
whistles in there too. Not to brag or anything, but I do have a pretty nice
ass. I have to give credit to those butt routines I’ve been doing lately.
I think I’ll stick in a bit longer. Plus, a chance like this may come
only once or twice in a lifetime. Finally, after fifteen minutes of the worst
driving I’ve ever experienced in my life, we come to a screeching halt. I
stand up, trying to cover my face with my right arm.
“Okay, now get out of the truck, got it?” He does exactly what I say.
“Now I want you to get on your knees and keep your head down.” I
quickly reached into my back pocket and pull out my phone and go to
the gun app and tap the screen. The clink of a cocking trigger echoes
through the air.
18 Josiah Collins
“Now I want you to answer a question. Are you scared to die?”
“Yeah . . . Yes, yes, sir.” I put the phone next to his head and push the
button. Bang! He cringes for a second, then looks around, slowly lifting
his head, then finally, turns all the way around.
“Got yeah, you little bastard!” as he turns all the way around. I can see
the relief in his eyes, but I can also see the anger. Out of nowhere, he runs
toward me and, halfway, tackles me to the ground and simultaneously
sneaks a punch in there too.
“You dick! How could you do that to me?”
It takes me a second to think of my comeback. “Uh, I don’t know.
Maybe it’s payback for when you ripped my pants off in the gym.”
He stares at me for a few seconds; then a smile starts to creep its way
across his smug face followed by a low-pitch laugh.
“Oh yeah.” He sighs. “I guess we’re even.” He extends his hand out
for me. “Want a lift?”
I reach up to grab his hand, but he quickly pulls it away and leaves
me there sitting in the dust. “Oh, what kind of sport is that?” I ask.
“It’s my sport. Plus, you really deserved that one.” After I sat there
for a while, he looks down at me and asks, “So did you really punch him?
You know, there’s rumors going around. Someone told me he saw you
stab him. You don’t even own a knife, do you?”
“I had a feeling someone would start something, and no, I didn’t
stab him. The proper word is shanked.”
He gives me a nervous look and moves back a bit.
“I’m joking. I just beat the hell out of him!” I look up, and he’s now
laughing. “What?” I say, raising my right eyebrow.
“Nothing. It’s just kind of funny. I never would’ve thought you’d ever
punch somebody, especially a teacher.”
“Yeah, well, believe it. It really sucks. I’m like suspended for ten days,
and my license is for six months.” For some odd reason, a small bubble
of laughter rises up inside me, and I can’t help but laugh. The more I
think about it and how stupid this all is, the more I laugh.
“Hey, Justin, can you drop me off at my house, buddy?” I say, still
laughing as I look over at him.
After Justin and I were done talking about everything in the mans
universes; like we always do, I had him drop me off at my place.

Chapter Four
That evening, I went straight to my room and crashed on my bed, and
just when I was starting to sleep, I heard a loud knock at the door. Then
I heard a faint “Hello?”
Oh great, it’s Kim, my girlfriend. I haven’t talked to her in three
days. I hope she isn’t mad at me. You know, she’s really a nice girl, and
she’s really hot too! Actually, I think that’s the only reason why I decided
to date her; it’s funny how things worked out. Finally, I make my way
down the stairs, slicking the stray pieces of my hair down as I get closer
to the door.
“Hello! I know you’re in there. Now answer the door . . . please?” she
says. I wait a few seconds and then answer the door. She’s standing there,
looking all seductive and hot. And she’s wearing a very low-cut top.
“Hey, Kim.” I manage to push out. I think I may have even drooled
a little due to the provocative look on her face. She stands there for a
second and then puts her hands on her hips and peers inside. She then
looks up at me between her long blond curls and says, “So . . . are your
parents home?” There’s caution laced over her eyes as she peers through
the door.
“No, they’re still at work. It’s only four thirty.”
She slowly moves her hand to the base of my head and runs her
fingers through my hair, one finger at a time. As my hair rolls back with
every passing finger, light surges of heat move their way down my neck
and through my shoulders. She leans in close and whispers in my ear,
“I have a surprise for you.” Then she quickly takes me by the hand and
jerks the dazed trance out of me. As she leads me into the house, we
head up to my room, and as soon as I walk in, she shuts the door behind
me, causing a burst of wind to rush by.
“Here, sit on the bed,” she says as she taps her hand on the sheets.
“So what’s the surprise?” I ask, growing in suspicion. Thin beads of
sweat start to form at the top of my forehead. I wipe them away quickly
so she won’t notice.
“Just trust me. You’ll love it, now just close your eyes.” she says. Why
do I always get sweaty when I get nerves? I close my eyes and keep them shut.
“No peeking,” she demands. Finally, after what seems like forever,
she says, “Okay, you can open them now.”
As I open my eyes, the light from the windows causes everything to
have a light haze over it, and I can’t see anything. After a few seconds, I
get my sight back. I can only see a silhouette of her, but something seems
different. She seems a lot skinnier. It’s like she’s dropped some weight or
something . . . Oh my god! She’s wearing lingerie.
“What are you doing, Kim?”
“Well, what the hell do you think I’m doing?” She gives me a grin,
then hurries over and turns off the light.
“Kim, you know what I think about this whole thing.”
“What, that it’s hot? Luke, we’ve been dating for like eight months
now. And I’m ready to move past second base.” She pouts her lips and
moves close by me. A strong smell floats through the air, and as it rises
up my nostrils, it distinctly has a soft, sweet smell. And it’s turning me
on. This is so wrong, just wrong. How can I not just tell her to put her
clothes back on?
“Wait, what if my parents come home early?” I utter out of desperation
to scare her. But it doesn’t work. She just keeps walking toward me until
she is literally right on me, pinning me against the bed and her. My hands
are immediately drawn to wrap around her waist. The faint shimmers of
light escaping through the covered windows wrap their way around the
curves of her body, highlighting every possible curve on her. The warmth
of her hands against my neck makes me start to pant.
“What’s the matter, babe?” She grabs on to the back of my neck and
gives it a squeeze. “You’re so tense. Would you like me to give you a
massage?” Somehow, she ends up flipping me over and is on my back
manipulating her fingers onto the back of my neck. All at once, little
streams of numbness start to make their way down my neck all the way
to my thighs. I don’t really notice that my shirt is off until I feel the heat
radiating off her body and onto mine. It feels so hypnotic. I could do this
forever. As I slide my hands over her skin, my head starts to go numb.
After a few minutes, the massage comes to an end. I don’t even notice
it stopped until she starts sliding her warm hands over the contours of
my abs. Oh, it feels so awesome!
“So how did that feel?” she asks while running the side of her face
across my ribs.
“I’m guessing that you want something in return, right?”
“Well, of course I want something. I’ve wanted something from you
for a long time.” Before I can say another word, she leans in real close,
then whispers, “I think you already know.”
As she leans back, she gives me a slow, soft wink. All at once, the big
word automatically pops in my head: sex! But this time, when the word
sex popped in my brain, I wasn’t actually scared of it. It was like my brain
had a whole other perspective on things. Like whether I liked it or not,
a light was flipped on. But this time, I liked it.
She slowly picks up the pace again and starts to move her hands
down my abs, making her way to my crotch. Then, without hesitation,
she unzips my pants and starts to pull them off. I can’t believe I’m just
lying here, letting her completely undress me piece by piece.
Again, my hands are drawn to her waist, but this time, I come in for
a kiss. As soon as my lips meet hers, it sends a shock that travels all the
way down to you-know-what. All at once, I gasp for air, then lean my head
back and exhale. She rests her head on my neck, but that doesn’t stop
me. I come back with a kiss again, reaching my hand out and cupping
the side of her face. As I slowly move my head left to right, her hands
stiffen with gratification as I grow deeper into the kiss. We slowly start to
slide farther back onto the bed. My hands keep traveling up and down
her face. Now she is starting to moan. Oh, that’s so sexy!
As I work my way down her face and onto her neck, desiring to even
go lower, I make the passion in my lips grow softer. That way, when every
little kiss touches her neck, it will send her through wave after wave of
pleasure.
She then reaches down and starts to kiss my chest; the warmth of her
lips almost makes me melt like butter. She must know that makes me go
crazy because she keeps kissing me there. I stop her before I explode.
“What?” she says, trying to catch her breath.
Oh god, Luke, think of something and quick.
“It’s just that I don’t have . . . a . . . a condom.” That was close.
“Oh, okay. Go get one then. I’ll be right here waiting.”
I slowly get off the bed while still kissing her until we’re just far enough
that we are pulled apart. I walk into the bathroom, frantically looking for
one. Unexpectedly, a light, airy breeze flows by me and rubs up against
my back, causing chills to fall down my spine. Then, like the unexpected
breeze, my mind starts to wonder what my parents would think of this.
And everything that was going through my head has stopped, and the
only thing that I can think is, I feel like I’m going to vomit. Just as I’m
about to leave, out of thin air, a voice deep in my head says, Get out of here.
And it’s right. Now the only thing that I can think of is, how can I
give Kim the slip? What if I act like I need to go to the kitchen? Wait, but
I don’t have anything on but my underwear. But if I go out there again,
there is no way that I can get away from her; I’ll get laid for sure.
“Hey, what’s the matter? Is he scared to come out and play?” she says,
then rolls in laughter.
“No, of course not. He’s a pro.” I roll my eyes. Think of something,
Luke! I look up at the sink, and then my eyes drift to a small window
perched on the wall. I quickly look around the bathroom for some other
means of escape, and my options are shrinking, as are the chances of me
getting through that little window. I slowly climb up onto the sink, trying
to make as little noise as possible. I gradually open the window, and as
soon as it starts opening, it deliberately stops.
“Oh, dear God, not now,” I whisper under my breath while I try to
nudge it open, push by push. At last, after spitting furiously on the little
wheels and wiggling the frame a bit more, it finally comes loose and
slides back all the way.
I gently lift my left leg up and out the little window, shortly after,
followed by my other leg. While sliding through the window, my slow,
easy pace comes to a screeching halt. I look up, and to my horror, I see
the most important piece of fabric a man can own snagged on the metal
frame of the window. I reach up and try to pull my underwear free with
a big tug, but it won’t budge.
“Luke, are you okay? Did you hit your head?” My skin whitens with
fear. I reach up again and start to yank harder than before, but again,
nothing.
“I was just kidding about him being shy.” My heart starts to race,
and my mind desperately tries to think of other options. But there’s
nothing else I can do. So I place my hands on the sink and push. Rip!
Just the sound of the tearing fabric makes me want to wilt. As I slide
down the abrasive, sand-like shingles, I feel the red-hot sting of pain as
bare skin rubs up against coarse, rock-like grains. When I make my way
to the grass, I start jogging; then I start sprinting down the street, getting
whistles from girls as I streak past. And as I look down, I observe that
there’s a huge hole showing off my affections to the world.
23

Chapter Five
Justin and Steve asked me if I wanted to hang out at the abandoned
truck stop and get drunk, but I told them I’m grounded for the rest of
my life. I don’t think I could stand staying here for another week, let
alone two. I thought about leaving Kate here for just a little while, but
the last time I left her at the house, she rated me out before I could even
get back. She may be stupid and all, but don’t let her fool you. She puts
on a dumb act, but she’s smarter than you give her credit for.
Babysitting really blows, especially when you’ve got to watch your
retarded sister. Most nights when Mom and Jeff go out, they have Anna,
Kate’s usual babysitter, to watch her. But since I’ve been on house arrest,
I get to do all the babysitting. I feel like I’m in prison, except I’m not
some guy’s little sissy. Thank God! That would really suck. If I would ever
get in that place, I would never bend over for anything—and I mean
anything! I would literally tape my ass shut! I think of all the places I fear
to go. There’s hell and prison—they definitely make the top two for me!
Hell scares me more though. Partly because when you punch your card,
you’re not going back out. I think I like the idea of twenty plus instead of
eternity. It’s a bit of a lighter sentence, if you know what I mean.
I really want to go somewhere tonight, but if mom finds out I drove
with a suspended license, she will kill me. I can’t even imagine what
would happen if she found out I left Katie here. But the more I sit here
thinking about how I’m in such a bad situation anyway, the better it
seems. Maybe if I take her with me and get her whatever the hell she wants, she
won’t tell them. It makes perfect sense. They won’t even know I was there, and I’ll
get away with it scot-free.
Mom and Jeff left a little while ago at seven, so they should be back
around nine thirtyish or ten. Either way, that gives me an hour to hang
out with my friends and have fun. It takes about twenty minutes to go
there and close to thirty to get back, depending on how drunk I am.
But that shouldn’t be too hard considering I’ve done this a thousand
times. Although all the other times I’ve done this, it was at midnight and
without my sister.
“Hey, Katie!” I yell from inside the kitchen as I sit on one of the stools
lined up against the kitchen island.
“Yes, Luke man?” she says as she pauses the TV and listens.
“I was just wondering . . . if you wanted to go out tonight?”
She waits a while, then finally gets up and peeks her melon head
out from around the corner, and then just stares at me with her
almond-shaped eyes. After about a minute of awkward silence, she says,
“Me go . . . with you?” She smiles, showing each and every one of her
little gapped teeth.
“Yes, you go with me out on a ride. Okay?” I say, trying to seem as nice
to her as possible.
“I go to town with Luke?” she says to herself as she turns and faces
the TV. She then bends down and starts counting her toes. I’ve never
really understood why she counts her toes, but I think it’s her own little
way of reasoning things out.
“Kate,” I say, trying to keep my distance. Just in case.
“Okay!” she says in excitement while holding her thumb in her
pointer finger together, making an O, then wildly waving it over her head,
making a somewhat reasonable okay sign. She then hops up from the
floor and heads into the front room. A few minutes later, she runs back
through the living room doorway, with her Dora the Explorer backpack
and the same coloring book she’s had for five years in her right hand.
That coloring book was the first one Mom ever bought her. She has such
an attachment to it that when we try to buy new ones, she just takes them
and heads over to the trash can and says, “Bye-bye, book.”
“Mom and Jeff know?” she asks as she looks at me with a questioning
smile on her face.
“Yeah, they already know,” I lie, trying not to make eye contact with
her as she stares me down. For some reason, she can always tell when I’m
lying. I don’t know what the hell goes on in that big melon head of hers,
but I don’t think I or anyone else will find out anytime soon. About a
minute passes by, and she finally starts shaking her hands, which usually
means yes or she’s really hungry. But I don’t care; I’ll take those odds. I
speed things up by helping her pick out her clothes and put them on.
After fifteen minutes, she’s ready to go, and so am I. When we get out on
the highway, it’s already seven thirty five.
“Where are we going?” she asks suspiciously.
“We’re going . . . uh . . . to get a bite to eat,” I lie.

Chapter Six
“Hey, Luke,” Katie says as she nudges me on the side of my arm.
“What, Katie?” I say as I quickly glance at her.
“Where are we going?” she says with a smile as she tightly holds her
Dora the Explorer backpack.
“We’re gonna have fun,” I say as I reach over and rub the side of her
little face. The feeling of silky soft skin catches me by surprise a little, and
I look back to see if I’m still touching her. And to my surprise, I still am.
“I love you,” she says as she grabs a hold of my hand and brings it
up to her mouth; then she gently kisses it. A smile sneaks across her
face as she looks back at me and she starts to smile and then she starts
laughing.
“What . . . what’s so funny?” I say, trying to keep my eyes on the
road.
“Your hand,” she says as she looks up at me with those big
almond-shaped blue eyes.
“What about my hand?” I say, actually, for once, wanting to know
what is so funny.
“Luke is wolf man.”
I stop and think about what she means, then just as I’m about to ask,
she holds my arm up and runs her short, stubby fingers over my hairy
arm. “Wolf,” she says as she laughs again.
“So you think I’m hairy?” I say as I teasingly raise one eyebrow toward
her.
“Yes,” she says as she pulls on my arm again. “Why so hairy?” she ask
as she pets my arm like a dog. I look at my arm placed on the steering
wheel, and I never noticed that I was really that hairy until now.
“Well, you see, I’m a guy, so I’m supposed to be that way.”
“That’s weird,” she says as she kisses my arm and then lays her head
against it.
“You gonna go to sleep?” I ask as I glance over at her.
“Yes,” she says with a yawn and scoots closer to me while still having
her head rested on my arm. I smile as I look down at her sleeping on
my arm. I look at the clock in the middle of the dashboard, and it reads
eight twelve. I look around to see where I am, and I notice a sign off in
the distance. As I get closer to it, I see that it has a railroad crossing sign
on it, and in an instant, I know where I am.
“Hey, Katie,” I say, keeping my eyes glued on the road, looking for a
truck stop. “Hey, Kate,” I say as I look down, and I see that she is glued
to my arm and is passed out. I look up at the road, and I see the old
abandoned building off in the distance. I quickly stomp on the brakes
and start slowing down. When I reach the turn-off, I try making a long
turn, trying not to wake her up. And when we pull into the backside of
the building, I see Justin’s truck sitting just outside the back door. As I
pull up, Justin and Steve come out of the building and go straight to my
car. Justin slaps the hood and knocks on my window, wanting me to roll
it down. In fear of Kate waking up, I quickly swing open the door, almost
hitting Steve in the face, and I step outside the car, trying not to wake her
as I slide her face off my arm.
“What the hell was that for?” Steve says as he leans against the side
of my car.
“Shut up. My sister’s in there,” I say, trying to whisper, but it seems
like a failed attempt. They both look at me weird then look into the
passenger’s side of the car.
“Why’d you bring her?” Justin asks as he squints looking at her.
“I got to babysit tonight, and this was my only option.” As I look over
at Steve, I notice he had a vodka bottle in his right hand. “I thought you
said we were drinking beer?”
“We were, but then, we changed our minds, and we decided we
wanted something with more of a kick,” he says as he holds the bottle up
to his face. “It was a good choice.”
“Come on, let’s go back inside,” Justin says as he slaps my back and
starts heading toward the back door.
I stop and think about Katie, but then I feel Steve pulling me toward
the door, and he says, “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.” As we walk into the
old building, I can barely see anything, except for the light in the middle
of the room where a small fire it lit on the dirt floor. I look down, and I
see Justin sitting down, taking a drink.
“Here,” he says as he hands the bottle to me and wipes the excess off
his lips. I grab the bottle and bring it up to my lips. The smell of alcohol
overpowers me, and I take the bottle back from my face. I wait a few
seconds, preparing myself for the sting; then I bring it to my lips again
and take a drink. I don’t feel anything until it passes my mouth and starts
down my throat. The stinging hurts, but it’s bearable. I take another
drink, and the sting is still as bad as the first time.
“Relax, dude,” Steve says as he motions for me to sit down. I quickly
sit down, and as I do, I feel the warmth of the alcohol—which is a good
feeling, but not one I’m used to. As I sit on the floor, waiting for it hit
me. I look over at Justin who is just sitting there, looking into the light
of the fire.
“Hey, Justin, what are you doing?” I ask as I look at him.
“He’s just had too much to drink. I guess he doesn’t know his limits,”
Steve says as he takes another drink. “Here,” he says as he hands me the
bottle.
“Thanks,” I say as I grab the bottle and take another drink. I bring
my fingers up to my lips and rub against them, but I can’t feel my lips.
They just start to tingle. I quickly take another drink, trying to get my
mind off my life and on something else. “How long does this stuff take?”
I say as I take another drink.
“This sneaks up on you.”
“Great,” I whisper to myself as I look across the room at Justin. As I
sit there in the middle of the room, I can feel the bitter cold night’s air
touching my back. I turn around every so often and look through the
open door to see if Katie is still asleep.
“So how much longer are you gonna be suspended?” Steve asks as he
holds his hands in front of the fire. Why do you care? I almost say, but then
I stop myself. As I sit there, I start to think about how bad Steve’s life has
been. I mean, sure, I haven’t known my dad, but at least I still can think
that my family wants me. Steve’s dad left when he was four, and his mom
dropped him off on his aunt’s doorstep when he was six. He told me his
mom couldn’t stand not having his father in her life, so she left him and
went looking for his dad. I remember when we were just kids and Steve
would tell me he knew they would come back someday. But those days
are long gone; that was the old Steve. The new Steve I don’t even know
anymore.
“For a few weeks,” I say to him as I look into the fire.
“That’s not too bad,” he says as he takes his hands back away from
the fire. “Not too bad at all for beating the hell out of a teacher.”
“Yeah, I know. I thought I was gonna get something worse than that,”
I say, rolling in laughter. As I look around the room, everything seems to
be more at ease, and my mind is off everything. I look back at Steve who
is now laughing too. “What?” I say as I look over at him.
“Nothing. It’s just that your laugh is so damn stupid,” he says as he
brings his sleeve up to his mouth and wipes the excess alcohol off the
corners of his mouth. I bring my hand up to my face to scratch it, but
as I do, I feel nothing—nothing but a slight warmth coming from my
cheek.
“Hey, I can’t feel my face,” I say to Steve as I glance back at him.
“I told you this sneaks up on you. No wonder why the Russians like
this stuff.”
As I look around the room, all I can see is the light coming from the
opening of the door. The more I look around me, the more I start to
notice things are starting to change. Then I look into the fire. I couldn’t
understand why Justin was staring at it in the first place, but now I know.
It’s beautiful: every red and yellow flame shooting straight up in the air,
each flame dancing its way up to the top until it finally disappears.
“What time is it?” I ask, looking over at Justin as he barely holds his
watch up to his face.
“It’s nine ten . . . wait, no, it’s nine fifteen,” he says as he brings the
watch closer then farther from his face.
“Damn! That only gives me forty-five minutes to get home.”
“What are you talking about?” Steve says as he hands me the bottle.
“It’s only twenty-five minutes to your house.”
“Yeah, when you’re not drunk and when you go eighty,” I say as I try
to lift myself up from the floor. My arms seem weaker than when I first
sat down, but soon, they start to regain their strength. As I get up off the
floor, Steve stands up and hands me the bottle.
“Here’s one for the road,” he says as he pours some of the vodka into
a soda can. I walk out the back door with Steve right at my heels. As we
make our way out to the car, I see Katie’s still sleeping, and that means
that there’s no possible way she could nark on me. As I walk over to the
side of the car, I open the door slowly, trying not to wake her up.
“Have fun,” I say as I lightly shut the door. He motions for me to roll
my window down, and I quickly do. “What?” I whisper to him as he hands
me the can.
“What the hell,” he says as he stands up from his slouch and looks off
in the distance.
“What . . . what is it?” I ask, trying to see what it is.
“Quick, take this,” he demands as he rips the glass bottle out of his
pocket and throws it into my car.
30 Josiah Collins
“Dude, what the—” I say as I turn my head to the left and I see bright
blue and red lights coming down the old road toward the abandoned
truck stop. “It’s the cops,” I say as I cram the bottle under my seat.
“Really, I never would’ve guessed,” he says as he glances down at me.
“Just act like nothing happened.” As the car pulls up beside mine, an
officer steps out and starts walking toward Steve. When the officer starts
to rub his fingers along the side of my car, I feel my palms start to sweat.
“What are you boys doing?” he asks as he shines the light directly at
Steve.
“We were just hanging out, sir,” Steve says as he backs up against the
side of the car.
“Really?” he says, sounding like he’s analyzing every point of this
situation. “Can I see your license?” He holds his hands up in front of
Steve, and in a second, I see Steve reaching into his pocket, and he takes
out his wallet. The officer holds it close to his face and examines it.
“Is everything okay, sir?” Steve says as he glances back at me.
“Everything seems to be in order,” he says as he hands Steve the card
back. “I’m just doing my routine check. It’s awful late. You boys should
get out of here.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say as I put the key in the ignition and start the
car. The officer slaps the hood, and that’s my signal to get the hell out
of here.
“Be safe,” I hear him say as he walks back to his car and rides off. I
look back at Steve who now seems frozen. I knock on the window, and
somehow, it brings him back.
“Well, I’ll see you later, dude,” I say as I start to drive off. As we leave,
I try to drive slowly, but I know I only have a few minutes left to go back.
I look down at my phone, checking the time every few minutes. I don’t
know how I would get out of this one if they got home early.
It feels like an eternity, and every time I look out the window, all I
see are lights and small buildings that hide in the distance. So far, I’ve
counted sixty eight light poles. And with every passing one, I feel my eyes
starting to get heavier.
I keep hearing the honking of horns in the distance; I’m probably
swerving, but I can’t really tell. I’m too tired and drunk to even care!
As a big truck passes, he honks his horn, which jolts me nearly out of
my seat. I swerve sharply and then gain control again. I notice that I’ve
been holding my breath and I’m starting to feel lightheaded. I try to
regain my wits by slowly breathing out. I look at my hands that are tightly
clenched around the steering wheel, and they’re shaking like hell! I can’t
remember the last time I’ve been this jittery. I look over, and Kate is still
sleeping. Thank God, she’s asleep. If she had seen what just happened,
I’d never hear the end of it from Mom or Jeff.
I can’t fight off this feeling of sleepiness. I’ve never wanted to sleep
so badly in my life. I’m starting to think that going out here wasn’t such
a good idea after all. I try to keep myself awake by slapping my face,
but after three slaps, I can feel my face starting to sting and getting a
glowing red appearance. Now I just feel more tired, and I think the
slapping-my-face thing wore me out even more. I wish I weren’t so tired.
It’s now growing on me; I can’t fight it anymore. My eyes start to
droop until they finally shut. It feels so good, I don’t even care about the
road. All I can think about is sleeping.
As I drift off, I can feel my grip loosen until I finally let go of the
wheel. I’ve never slept so well in my entire life. But for some reason, I
keep thinking about seat belts, and I remember that I’m wearing one
but my sister isn’t. Damn! If Mom finds out that I didn’t let her wear her
seat belt, I’m screwed!
Out of pure desperation, I wake myself up by slapping my cheek
again. First, I look at Katie. But then, I look at my hands that are off the
wheel and are lying on my lap. When my eyes meet the road, the only
thing I see in front of me are two bright lights heading straight for me.
I frantically jerk the wheel to the right. The car starts to spin out of
control. I try to stomp on the breaks, but it does no use. The spinning
just seems to be getting worse. The force of it all pushes my body up
against the seat, and I’m now pinned up against the door. My heart feels
like it is in my stomach. I feel the sharp blow of the truck as it pierces its
way through the back hull of the car.
In a split second, I feel the rear leave the ground, and my face is now
almost entirely parallel to the ground. As pieces of glass fly through the
air, one chunk of glass flies by and cuts a streak on my lower right cheek.
As the airbags deploy, my head lashes forward and goes straight through
the soft white bag now covered with blood. Again, the car rolls, and my
head now is smashed up against the steering wheel. The car seems to
be going endlessly, end over end, every flip longer than the last, until
finally, the car comes to a screeching halt on its hood. I can hear the
sound of a million pieces of glass simultaneously cracking and busting.
And the faint smell of gas streams its way through the air.
Everything seems to be going black; I can feel myself starting to go in
and out of consciousness. As I hang there upside down, I can feel small
streams of blood cascading down my face and dripping onto the ceiling,
which is now below. The seat belt has cut a thin straight-lined wound
into my left shoulder blade. I hoist my hand up and lightly brush the
wound. An unbearable shock of pain shoots up my arm, and I wrench in
pain. I try my hardest from crying out.
As I hang there, I notice that my shirt feels wet. I reach over to my
shirt and rub my hand across it. As I bring my hand up to the light coming
through the window, I can see that my hand is completely covered in
blood. The mere sight of it makes me grow nauseous. Now my head is
throbbing from the pressure of hanging upside down; it’s slowly making
everything get darker.
The ambulance has to be on its way. Maybe if I can get someone’s attention,
then I can get them to help Kate out of the truck. They can take care of her first. So
I start to utter to the best of my abilities. “Help!” But I don’t see anyone.
“Help!” The words echo across the ice-cold pavement and fade into
the darkness of the night. The cold air is starting to make my tongue swell,
making it harder for words to come out. And my hands are starting to
shake too. I’ve read before that in the beginning stages of hypothermia,
you start to shake, just so your body will keep warm. It’s amazing what the
body will do to survive. I think that I’ve lost too much blood, but I could
be wrong. Things always seem worse when you’re the one in them.
“Help! Oh, God, help me!” I cry out again, but still nothing—nothing
but the sound of passing cars.
“Is there anyone on this damn earth who even cares?” My voice is
starting to get tired, and the chill of the air is restricting the airflow of my
throat. It seems harder to breathe as I draw in every little breath.
Okay, there has to be someone who has seen us. I mean, it’s hard not
to see some wrecked car on the side of the road. Okay, Luke, you have to
weigh out your options. If we don’t get found, we’re probably going to die from
being upside down. I think that’s how Peter died in the Bible.
At least that’s what I’ve heard. Maybe we will be spotted, and someone
will see us and call 911. I clear my throat one last time, take a deep
breath, and yell as loud as I possibly can. “Help!”
It’s soon faded out by the echoes of a passing car. As I hang there, I
can feel the small stream of a tear crawl down my face. I never thought
I would be crying. I really don’t know why I’m crying right now. Maybe
because death isn’t what I thought it would be. I always figured that I
would die an old man in my bed with the one I loved. I still have my
teen dreams, but they’re shallow compared to what my heart truly longs
for. This isn’t the way I thought it would end. I can’t believe I’m actually
telling myself this; this is something that I keep repressed deep in my
male mind.
There seem to be so many feelings that are going through me right
now, but I feel sad—sad like I’ve never felt before. I want to cry—cry for
all the things that I could never fix. I want to cry for my mom because
she had no one to cry to when Dad left her. Cry for Kate because of all
the hurtful and tormenting words she has to take each and every single
day. I simply just want to cry. Now tears are starting to run down my face,
and I can’t stop crying. Mournful screams of anger and sorrow pour out
of my mouth, and with every passing breath, the want to breathe grows
lesser.
“Hello, is anyone in there?”
I manage to take another breath. “Ye-yes.” The word stumbles out of
my mouth. “Can you help?” There’s a brief silence; then I hear footsteps
outside my window.
“Oh my gosh! Just stay calm and don’t panic. I’m here to help you.
My name’s Veronica.” She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a
knife and cuts the seat belt holding me in. My body falls to the ceiling
below, and she slowly pulls me out onto the side of the road. The chill of
the cold night air seems to move around us; it’s weird. I can see the grass
blowing everywhere except the little circle that we’re in. Finally, when I
regain my strength, I look up.
“You need to go get my sister. She’s still in there!” She then does the
thing I least expected her to do: she leans down, cups her hands over
my head, then moves them toward my face and says, “Your sister will be
just fine.”
I hesitate for a moment, but as I look into her eyes, I feel a
reassurance.
“Trust me. She’s fine.” She then hands me a book that has a rip in
the cover and a few pieces of glass embedded in the leather. It must have
flown out of the car during the whole chaos of the wreck.
“I found it on the road about twenty feet from your car. It must have
flown out during the wreck. Read it. It’ll do you some good.”
As I look down at the book, I see five small words etched out on the
cover of it; they are hard to make out. As I look closer at the words, they
read Bible. Remembering Kate, I quickly turn around and look into the
cabin of the car. I see nothing but the faint outlines of gray seats.
“But, miss, she’s still in there—” I stop talking when I turn around and
realize that Veronica is no longer behind me; she’s gone. As I drag myself
up to the edge of the car, I lean up against it to rest. The feeling in my
head is unbearable, and my mind feels as if it’s going numb. The world
around me is spinning as everything turns to darkness, then fades away.

Chapter Seven
I open my eyes. They’re met with a weak sheet of light that slowly moves
itself over my face. Seeing a small dark figure at the foot of my bed, I
shift my eyes toward it, but my vision is too blurry. I can only see about a
couple inches in front of my face. Who or whatever it is, it’s not moving.
I try to say something, but it goes out as a muffled whisper. I try to say
something again, but it is still silent. I bring my fingers up to my throat
to figure out what is causing me to sound like this; I feel long lumps
running all the way down my throat. I’m not sure if I really want to figure
out what it is, but my human instinct makes me. I lift my hands up to
the corner of my mouth; the tips of my fingers slide across a cold lumpy
plastic! I wrap my hand around it; it’s a hard long tube. As my eyes follow
it, I can see it’s hooked up to some massive machine. I’m not sure where
I am, but it’s definitely not home.
All at once, I hear someone talking in a low whisper outside the
door. After a while, the talking subsides, and the door opens. A womanly
figure walks over to the side of my bed, then sits down. She puts her hand
on my hand and rubs her palm over the top of my knuckles. I know now
who this person is; it’s my mom. She is the only one who would do that
to me; she used to rub my hands so I could go to sleep when I was little. I
remember one night, I watched The Mummy. I was so petrified, I couldn’t
sleep. So she stayed with me the entire night and rubbed my hands until
I fell asleep. She always told me the hands were like controllers to the
mind. Mom is still rubbing my hands, so I slowly lift my hand and place
it over her, moving one. I hear her stop breathing; she then turns her
focus off my hand and looks at me and says, “Luke . . . Oh, thank God.
Are you there bubby?”
She looks around the room for a few seconds; she has a nervous look
in her eyes. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do. After a few seconds,
she yells for a nurse. Just then, two nurses come into the room, take a
look at me, and leave as soon as they came in. Just a few minutes later,
four people are led into the room followed by the two previous nurses.
All of them gather around my bed and start unhooking me from all my
machines. The last thing to go is the big long tube. It stings a bit as it
goes out, but it feels a lot better out than in. My mom keeps asking if I’ll
be okay, but they just keep telling her I seem stable for now. She looks
at me and smiles and then asks me to say something, but I can’t really
talk loud enough for her to hear me, so I sit up and whisper as loud as I
possibly can.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask.
“It’s been about four months . . . give or take, a few weeks. The
doctors told me they didn’t know if you would make it.”
“What happened?”
“When you swerved, you went into the other lane . . . You were hit by
a truck. They said when most people are hit by a truck that size, it’s rare
that anyone lives, but you made it.”
I can see tears in her eyes start to swell.
“I’m so glad you’re alive. I prayed night after night that you would
come to me, and you finally did.”
I can’t get this feeling of something out of my mind, but I can’t
remember what it is I’m forgetting. For some reason, Mom keeps looking
at this picture of Kate and I over on the windowsill. She grabs it and
brings it within a few inches of my face.
I remember taking that picture right outside the castle at Disney
World. It took almost an hour for us to sit still, long enough to take
the picture. We could hardly wait to see the rest of the park. That was
one of the greatest days of my kid life! Then it hits me: where is Kate?
I remember looking at her right before the crash and . . . I look up at
Mom, and she starts crying.
In a brittle voice, she mutters, “She was my little baby girl!” She loses
her breath and starts crying again. She brings her finger and rubs it
against the glass in front of the picture. My body starts to go numb. I
can’t believe that I wasn’t there to help Katie. I wasn’t even there to
watch them put her in the ground. What kind of jerk kills his own sister
and isn’t even there for her funeral? Why couldn’t I have taken her
place? Why couldn’t I have saved her?
After a while, it settles in my head, and the realization hits me . . . it’s
all my fault. I try to ask Mom how the funeral was, but she’s still crying.
I figure that she wants to be left alone, so I try not to make much noise.
A minute passes, and she’s still crying—two, three, then four! I don’t
know if she will ever stop crying, so I stroke my hand over her hair. Her
crying starts to turn to sobbing, and she catches her breath. She takes
her hand off the picture and moves it over and grabs mine. Her grip is
tight and ice-cold. The instant I feel her frail hand, I jolt. But I don’t
move my hand from hers; I try to keep it there to reassure her. I try not
to cry when I look into her eyes, but she looks like she’s not all there. She
doesn’t seem like the mom I used to know! I don’t really know if she will
ever be the same anymore.
All these thoughts keep racing through my head: I wonder if our
family will ever be the same. I wonder if we will move on and just try to
forget this whole thing. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to forget this whole
thing; I don’t even know how she died. And I don’t want to ask Mom. I
think if she had to say one more thing about my sister, it would break her
heart—well, at least what’s left of her heart.
“But wait, what about the lady?”
“What lady?”
“The one who cut my seat belt for me and helped me out of the car.
Did she not show up and stop by the hospital?” A look of uncertainty falls
upon Mom’s eyes.
“There was nobody, Luke. What are you talking about?”
“Mom, there was a lady who came and helped me. She even told me
that everything is going to be all right. So you’re telling me there was
nobody?”
“No, there was somebody who helped you. But it was the truck driver.
He said that you were unconscious when he pulled you out of the truck,
and you’ve been unconscious ever since. He looked and tried to see if
there was somebody else with you, but he couldn’t find anyone.”
“What do you mean he couldn’t find anyone? Kate was right beside
me,” I say, starting to raise my voice.
“Kate wasn’t in the car . . . She was thrown out, and it landed on her.”
Her words were like ice piercing through my sou. I sit there in silence,
looking at the wall, but my mind goes back to the woman.
“But, Mom, there was a woman there. She even handed me a Bible
that had tears and some glass in it. Where is it?”
“Sweetie, there was no Bible when you were unconscious. You must
have dreamed it all up.”
All of a sudden, Jeff walks through the door. I’m a bit relieved to see
him, but at the same time, I’m afraid to face him. He walks by the bed,
scooting his hand across the railing. He stands there looking at me, and
his icy-blue eyes keep running up and down my face, examining every
square inch of it. I feel frozen. As soon as he takes his eyes off me, a
sudden warmth falls on me.
He then turns toward Mom and lays his hand on her shoulder. But
then, he focuses his attention on me again. He reaches his hand out
toward me. I’m not exactly sure what he wants me to do. He has never
been the touchy-feely type. The only time I can remember him touching
me was when our soccer team won the district championship, and he
grabbed me up by my arm and patted my back. He was so proud of me
that day. I felt like that was the only time he truly felt proud of me. Other
than that, I can’t remember the last time he laid a finger on me. But
then again, he really isn’t my real dad, so what am I to expect?
As he looks at me, he gives me a faint smile, but I can tell it’s not real.
I feel relieved and thankful, but at the same time, I wonder what he is
going to say.
“Hi, son.”
I can’t believe that’s all he said, even after his stepson has been in
a coma for four months and his daughter is dead. That’s all he has to
say to me. I really don’t know if this is the real Jeff because if it were, he
would be ripping me limb from limb right now.
I remember one time, I ate a whole bag of corn chips on our way
home. He kept telling me not to eat so many, but I ignored him. Suddenly,
out of the blue, I blew huge chunks of greenish yellow vomit all over the
back of Jeff’s head and all over his new car. The smell of the barf caused
everyone to start gagging, and Mom actually did. A few minutes later, we
got pulled over and were given a fifty-five dollar ticket. We later found
out that while Mom was hanging her head out the window, she sprayed
chunks all over the front of a highway patrol car. Needless to say, I didn’t
sit on my ass for a whole week, if you know what I mean. I’ve never seen
him that mad at me in my entire life. But that’s how the real Jeff would
have acted. Now he just stands here right in front of me. I can’t tell what
he is going to do, but I can tell he is going to say something. Without
warning, he lunges toward me and wraps his big bare arms around me.
It makes my skin start to crawl.
Jeff—my stepfather who, before, had no emotional attachment to
anything—is now wrapped around me so tight that I can’t even breathe.
A few seconds pass, and I clear my throat. I think the whole coughing
thing will give him a hint. After a while, he moves back to the side of the
bed and gives me a smile.
“I never thought that you would be out of it this fast.”
“Well, Jeff, miracles can happen.”
“Well . . . yes. Are you almost ready to get out of that ass-less
bedgown?”
A little grin makes its way across my face, but it’s not enough to make
me laugh. I start to move my toes, and I raise my arm up just enough to
pull off the small layers of sheets covering my legs. I then pull my legs
over to the side of the bed, and they fall over the edge. I can’t feel them,
and I can’t move them.
“Don’t worry. The doctor said it would be normal for you not to be
able to have one hundred percent usage of your legs right now. It will
take some getting used to. After all, you have been in a coma for four
months.”
About two hours later, I can finally start to walk. The doctors have
given us the okay to leave, and we take the first chance we get. On our
way home, Mom still has this gloomy look on her face. I think about
asking her if she is okay, but I figure that if I do it, it will remind her of
it again. Out of the silence, I hear Mom mutter, “Are you going to tell
him, Jeff?”
I can tell that Jeff is dreading to tell me whatever the hell Mom wants
him to say. I can tell he doesn’t want to tell me because he puts his head
down and tries not to look around. He always does that when he doesn’t
want to do something. I’m actually starting to wonder what it is they’re
both talking about.
“Um . . . what are you guys talking about?”
She then elbows him in the side, then puts on a fake cough. Jeff
hesitates a few seconds before he says, “You have to go to court. They
said your hearing is this Tuesday.”
The intensity of those words causes my ears to start ringing. All of a
sudden, I feel my stomach start to turn. I feel like I’m about to throw up.