From Ant to Eagle(41)

An awkwardness followed me around everywhere that morning—the cautious smile from the bus driver, the stifled chatter as I took my seat, the hurt that filled Aleta’s eyes as she sat silently beside me. Even the Riley brothers greeted me with little more than a sneer, though I doubted they were quiet out of respect. The bruises on the back of Tom’s neck told me that fear had a role to play.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to smack the smugness off the Rileys’ faces and scream. Come on! Have it out! Yes, it’s me—the one whose brother has cancer! He’s not dead you know! And I’m not him! Instead I sat quietly and stared out the window at the passing fields that had once been towering corn and green soy but now were empty and brown.

Nobody spoke to me the whole morning but when the bell rang for recess Ms. Draper asked me to stay behind.

She waited for everyone else to leave, then turned to me.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

It was a question I would get a lot.

I thought about saying, “Oh, you’ve mixed up the brothers. I’m actually the one that doesn’t have cancer,” but I didn’t have it in me to be rude.

“Fine,” I said.

I told her I was fine because I should have felt fine. I wasn’t the one retching in a toilet. But in truth I didn’t feel fine. I felt achy all over my body and tired like I hadn’t slept in days.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ms. Draper asked again.

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

The main reason I said I was fine was that it was the quickest end to the conversation.

Ms. Draper nodded her head slowly. “Okay, but if you ever want to talk about things you know I’m available, right?”

I nodded.

OUTSIDE I’D EXPECTED to find a crowd but instead found only Aleta kicking at some stones by the portable door. She smiled at me hesitantly.

I didn’t smile back.

Instead I started walking toward the far end of the playground.

Aleta followed beside me.

“I heard about Sammy,” she said. “At church, Reverend Ramos made an announcement. I’m sorry, Cal.” She sounded genuinely sorry. She sounded like she might start to cry, which irritated me because I blamed her for keeping me away from Sammy.

I walked faster.

Aleta walked faster to keep up.

“What did the doctors say? Will they be able to…make him better? Will he have to be in the hospital long?”

We walked past the boys playing basketball and the girls playing hopscotch. We walked right off the concrete that surrounded the school and were now crossing through the large field beyond. A few younger kids were playing tag but stopped to watch as we walked by. I kept walking, not paying attention. I walked until I was halfway across the field and stopped.

“Are your parents doing okay? My dad was wondering—”

I cut Aleta off with a wave of my hand. “Aleta, remember when you told me some things are easier to not talk about?”

Her green eyes flashed a moment of recollection.

“This is one of those times,” I said with more anger in my voice than I’d meant. “I really don’t want to talk about Sammy. I really don’t want to talk about anything. I just want to be left alone.”

“Cal, when I said—” she sounded like she was going to argue then stopped. For a moment she stood there, her eyes locked on mine. She was searching me—trying to break me down. And she almost did. But I held strong—my face solid and fierce. I couldn’t let her break me down. I couldn’t let Sammy down again. Aleta let out a deflated exhale and looked back toward the school. “Okay,” she said, “I understand.”

“Thanks,” I said gruffly, then turned and continued walking toward the far side of the schoolyard.

When I got to the chain-linked fence that separated the school from the farms and fields beyond I followed it until I was at the furthest point possible from the school. I turned and sat with my back against the cold metal, watching the kids play.

Aleta was still standing where I’d left her in the middle of the field. I was supposed to feel better. I had done what I had thought I needed to do—I had stood up for Sammy. I had put Sammy first. Yet, I didn’t feel better.

My heart still ached. It ached for Sammy. It ached for Aleta. But I needed to stop worrying about Aleta. Aleta would be fine. Sure she didn’t know anyone else at school and sure she was quiet as a mute, but she would make friends. She would find new people to play with. She would have to. I couldn’t be her friend anymore.





CHAPTER 26

IT WAS FRIDAY, DAY EIGHT. THE FIRST WEEK WAS OVER AND IT had not been easy on anyone.

The day after I’d told Aleta I needed time alone I’d climbed on the bus and sat in the aisle seat, not moving over when she’d gotten on. For a moment she’d stood waiting, but then the bus had lurched forward, continuing down Thornton Road and she’d gone and sat a few seats behind. Throughout the morning I’d avoided her pleading eyes until the bell rang for recess. I’d rushed to be the first out the door and I walked straight to the end of the playground. Aleta hadn’t followed. She’d stood around the portable for a while until one of the girls had come up to her and pulled her into their group. But even then she was still trying to put me in another of her trances. I could see her looking back at me every chance she got.