From Ant to Eagle(28)

He put the phone back on the receiver and smiled at me.

“Good news. Your brother is doing well. Turns out they won’t have to amputate his head after all,” he said.

“That’s disappointing,” I joked.

He laughed then his face took on a somewhat more serious look as he told me “they”—which I knew meant “Mom”—thought it was best for me to go to school and be picked up after.

“That’s not fair!” I argued. “I want to come and see how Sammy’s doing.”

“And you will, just as soon as school is over. One of us will be back to pick you up at six pm sharp.”

“School’s done at four.”

“Then we won’t be a minute later than five,” Dad said with a grin.

“Ugh, this is so unfair. And I’ve already missed the bus in case you hadn’t noticed.”

I marched out of the kitchen, stomping my feet for effect.

It’s one thing to walk into class late, it’s another to walk into class late the day after your brother had an epic attack of jerking and foaming and flailing. Since nothing exciting ever happened at recess, on the rare occasion that a fight broke out or someone slipped and needed stitches, those trivial events were talked about for days. I could only imagine how long people would be talking about Sammy’s seizure.

An awkward silence fell over the class as I walked toward my desk next to Aleta. She turned toward me with a worried look on her face. Everyone was looking at me as if I were going to make some sort of public announcement. Even Ms. Draper paused for me to take my seat, then seemed to hesitate before going on with the class.

I sat with my chin on my hands pretending to listen but instead kept thinking about Sammy. I’d never really worried about him before. Even when he’d been sick over the summer. But something about the fall and the hospital and the worried looks on my parents’ faces—it was all so unnerving. I couldn’t shake the feeling. He’d be fine, I knew he’d be fine, but crust, what if he wasn’t? I had to shake my head a few times to get rid of the thought.

The worrying was one thing, dealing with everyone in my class who seemed to think Sammy’s health was their business was another. I would close my eyes briefly, then open them again, each time hoping that when I did everything would be back to normal. Aleta would stop looking at me with her worried eyes, Tom would stop turning around every chance he got with a smug sneer on his face, and Ms. Draper would stop trying to catch my eye while she talked. I wished they’d all just stop. The tension in the room was unbearable and the closer to lunch it got, the more I wanted to run out of the portable and never come back.

I knew it would be a free-for-all come recess. I thought about playing sick but knew that would only make it worse later. I told myself it was better to just face everyone then and there and get it over with. I tried to convince myself that it was all in my head and that no one would make a big deal of it but sure enough, come recess, Tom and Joey headed the pack of kids waiting outside the portable door when the bell rang. They formed a ring, preventing me from walking around, so I stood and waited with what I hoped was a “What do you want?” look on my face.

“Hey, Cal, where’s your brother at?” Tom jeered as I walked toward them. “Did they put him in a crazy jacket when they took’m to the loony bin?” He flexed his wrists and held them stiffly to his face while making jerking movements with his body. A few kids from the group laughed.

“God, that was the funniest thing we ever seen,” Joey joined in. “We were up all night laugh’n ’bout it. Every time we thought we’s just about done, we’d crack up all over again.” He awkwardly attempted to imitate his older brother.

I felt my fingers curl into tight fists as I took a step toward them. I had never punched anyone but my brother before—and that was always in fun—but I had a feeling that right then and there that was about to change. And I’m sure it would have, if, at that moment, one of the teachers, Mr. O’Byrne, hadn’t come roaring into the crowd. The sea of students parted like corn stalks in the wind and formed a trail right to Tom and Joey.

“Tom, Joey, principal’s, now!” he barked.

It didn’t matter. They had an audience and the principal’s office was nothing new for the Riley brothers. They kept on taunting until their heads disappeared through the door of the main building.

I was seething by that point and ready to lash out at the next person who said anything. I glared around at the rest of the group but they weren’t interested in following Joey and Tom. The crowd dispersed, leaving me standing alone, angry, hurt, wanting to scream but afraid my voice would break.

Aleta stood a few feet away watching me breathe in and out slowly as I attempted to regain some composure. She walked over and stood beside me.

She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to—just having her next to me made me feel a little better and after a while I felt myself calming down. We spent recess standing together, watching the boys play basketball and the girls skipping as everyone else pretended not to be looking at me. And I pretended not to notice when they glanced over and whispered to the kid beside them. The talking would go on for a long time, it was something I would get used to, but it would take a while.

Just before the end of recess, I saw a car pull up in front of the school and Mr. Riley got out. He looked in a huff as he headed into the school and I nudged Aleta. A few minutes later he walked back out, one of each of the Rileys in his thick hands, holding them tightly behind the neck so that their feet were barely on the ground. He yanked the car door open and in went the boys—toss, toss—like limp sacks of feed. I only just caught a glimpse of Tom’s face as he sat slumped in the backseat. He wasn’t laughing anymore.