Forever for a Year(22)

“No,” I said, then went back to sitting by myself in the basement, where we went only to watch TV, except I hadn’t turned on the TV. Lily ignored my “no” and climbed onto the couch next to me. She didn’t say anything. Just sat there, nestled close, combing her Barbie’s hair with her fingers. My sister just understood people. I don’t even think she knew she understood, but she understood them anyway and that’s what made her goddamn magnificent. So eventually I said, “You making friends at school?”

“Yes, I’m very good at making friends. Not everyone likes me, which is okay. Because Mom says if everyone likes me, then that would mean I was trying too hard.”

“You’ve been talking to Mom?” I asked. I can’t remember the last time I saw the two of them have a real conversation.

“You’re hilarious. Of course I talk to Mom!”

“That’s good. But, you know, Mom doesn’t know everything.”

“Duh. I know.”

“No, Lil, some kids have moms that they can always trust. But we don’t.”

She stopped looking at me, stopped fiddling with her Barbie. Even though Lily never said she was sad, hell, she never cried—seven-year-old girls should cry!—after I said what I said about Mom, I could almost see her spirit deflate. Even if it was only for a second. Seeing that made me sad. Almost made me want to cry. She’s a little kid, not forty like you always think, Trevor! Just let her pretend our mom is a good mom.

So I said, “That girl I said I like, Carolina…”

Which made her perk up, sit on her knees, and face me. Excited. Which was why I said it.

“She’s not as cool as I thought.”

“Trevor! What happened?” Lily asked, still thrilled to be a part of my personal life even if my personal life was depressing.

“Her friend, or maybe it was just her friend’s sister, came and told me I couldn’t like her.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. That’s why school sucks. People just say stuff and try to control you and don’t have any real reasons.”

“Did you ask her why her friend said you couldn’t like her?”

“No, Lily, that’s not how it works.”

“Why?”

“Because once someone says something, that’s just the way it is.”

“But Carolina didn’t say it,” Lily said, trying to act like she knew what she was talking about, but I knew she didn’t.

“Forget it, Lily. Carolina’s a loser.”

“Don’t call people names, Trevor.”

“Goddamn it! You’re just a kid! You don’t know anything!” I pushed myself up from the couch, didn’t look at Lily again, and went up two flights of stairs to my room. By the time I slammed my door shut, I knew I had been an *. Lily was just being Lily. But I didn’t apologize because then I would have to really admit it.

When I opened my door for dinner a couple hours later, there was a folded piece of red construction paper in front of it. It was from Lily. Of course. I picked it up, opened it. There was a drawing of a girl and a taller boy. You know, like a seven-year-old would draw. And then, in her seven-year-old handwriting, but with her super-wise soul, it said: I love my big brother forever.

And then, crap, I did cry. Not cry cry. But tears formed. I fought them, but a few fell down my cheek anyway. Crap! This whole world sucks, but my sister is so goddamn special I can’t give up on the world. Not yet anyway.

*

So Wednesday and Thursday were just a waste of time, but they weren’t a waste of time in an interesting way. Carolina never looked at me; I never looked at her. Which was fine by me. I kept having lunch with my cousin Henry and his friends even though I didn’t like any of them, except Licker was sort of cool.

After Thursday’s cross-country practice, which again ended with me collapsing to the ground and telling Coach Pasquini to go f*ck himself in my head, he sat down on the curb next to my splayed-out carcass and asked, “You ready to hear a few things, or should I let you keep punishing yourself?”

This felt like a setup, so I didn’t say anything. Lungs still being on fire might also have made it difficult to speak.

“You like pain,” he said, then paused. I remained quiet. Pasquini locked his eyes onto mine, like some possessed general from ancient history, and continued, “That wasn’t a question. It’s a fact. Which is good. Not good for your life, sorry to say, but it is good for running. To be a great runner, you must understand how to control the pain. If you always make running painful, you’ll never know when to use your high threshold for pain to win. When you can control pain, you’ll love the pain for what it gives you, not just what it makes you forget. And when you love the pain for the rewards, you’ll love running, and then, and only then, will you be great.”

“Okay,” I said before I could tell my mouth to ignore him.

“Okay,” he said with that twisted grin of his. “Okay. Good. Tomorrow, your new life starts.”

“Okay,” I said, and crap, you know, I actually believed him. Even stranger, he turned out to be right.





15

Carolina tries on a new dress

So Peggy’s mom, Mrs. Darry, picked us up from school on Friday and drove us to soccer practice. Peggy’s mom is insane, like Katherine, so I always make sure to be nice to her. Like, if you’re not careful, boom! She’ll just start yelling at you for rolling down the window or doing your homework in the car or something no one would ever get mad about except her. Gosh.