Wing Jones(48)

“What the hell?” he says, but he is more curious than concerned. “You one of them girlies selling lollipops? Visiting the old?”

I shake my head. “No, sir, I’m visiting my brother.”

“At this time of night? I should ring my bell. Sound the alarm! We can’t have riffraff running through the hospital like it’s some kind of back alley.”

“Do you get many visitors, sir?”

He blinks at me, his old watery eyes narrowing. “That is a rude question, young lady.”

“No offense meant, I’m just curious.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I don’t. No one comes to visit me. You know why?”

“Why, sir?”

“Because I’m mean.” He says this matter-of-factly, and I see his hand hovering over the red call button next to his bed.

“Sir,” I say quickly, “my grandmother comes to this hospital every day to visit my brother. Now, my brother is in a coma and he can’t talk, so he isn’t very good company either. I’m sure my grandmother would rather talk to someone old and cranky than someone who can’t talk at all. So how about, how about you don’t hit that call button, and I’ll ask my grandma to visit you sometimes? How does that sound to you, sir?”

He pauses, stroking his chin. “Is she a looker?”

I picture Granny Dee, and then try and see her through the old man’s eyes. Compared to him, she’s practically young.

“Yes, sir. And she’s mean too, so she won’t mind you a bit. But I think, sir, I think you don’t seem all that mean.”

“That’s what happens when nobody visits you, you get soft. Forget how to be mean. Now go see your brother. I won’t tell anyone. Not this time.”

“Good night, sir.” I smile and step out into the hall just in time to see a dragon’s tail go around the corner. She must have been waiting for me.

I hope Granny Dee doesn’t mind visiting that old man. I’d feel bad promising him she’ll visit if she won’t.

Marcus’s room is different at night. All the machines beeping and bleeping are brighter in the darkness. It looks like he’s being tucked into bed by a family of robots. Maybe they talk to him in robot language when we aren’t here. Maybe he can understand them, even if he can’t understand us.

My lioness is under his bed. I reach down and pat her head. “I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper. She purrs in response and stretches out on her side.

“Marcus,” I whisper, “Marcus, if you wake up right now, you’ll see my lioness. Remember? I told you I had a lion? She’s here, watching you. She’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

I glance down at the lioness. “Right?” She nods in response, and I look back up at my brother’s unchanging face.

“Marcus,” I say, careful to keep my voice quiet, “when you wake up, I have something to show you. I’m a runner now. A real runner. Aaron is training me and everything.” I tell him all about our training sessions. I leave out the parts about how I get shivers whenever Aaron accidentally brushes against me, or the time he massaged my calves. I lie and tell him that Monica is doing great and looking beautiful and that she visits lots and lots. I wonder what lies Granny Dee is telling him.

After a while, it starts to feel normal. Like I really am talking to my brother. At one point I even pause, waiting for him to respond. When the only reply is the whirr of the machines keeping him alive, I stop.

“I should have brought a recorder,” I say. “So when you wake up I can play this back for you and you’ll be all caught up on everything that’s happening.”

He stays silent. My lioness has gone wherever it is she goes when I can’t see her. “I should get going too,” I tell Marcus. I take a step closer to his bed and pause, looking down at the boy who was once my brother and supposedly still is, and, swallowing my repulsion and reminding myself that this is my brother, this is Marcus, I kiss his forehead, like he did to me when I broke my ankle as a little girl. A kiss to make it better.





CHAPTER 30


My grades have been slipping ever since the accident. Some of my teachers have been understanding, but it isn’t like I can just stop going to class. We’ve got finals coming up, the last hurdle before winter break. In January I’ll drop ceramics and take track instead. Because I’ll really be on the team. Like a real athlete. Instead of just tagging along after school, when the rest of the team has already been stretching and warming up.

Tonight I stay up late studying in my room, listening to a classical music station on the radio, because Eliza says classical music helps you focus and she’s a straight-A student, so she knows what she’s talking about.

Even before the accident, I was never a straight-A student, not even a straight-B student. I’m a bit of a crooked student. I don’t mean crooked like I’m cheating, I mean crooked like my grades jump around. I get some As (math, ceramics), some Bs (English, Spanish, history), and usually a C (science). Tonight I’m studying for my history final. History is just remembering facts. I could probably get an A in it, but that’s the class I have with Heather Parker, and even though the stuff she says doesn’t bother me the way it used to, I still can’t ever fully relax when she’s nearby. So 80 percent of me can listen to our teacher, but 20 percent of me is on red alert, ready for anything. But even that has improved recently because Andy Binder just dumped Heather, and he did it in spectacular fashion, right out in the parking lot. They both yelled a lot, and he said she was a psycho, and she kinda proved him right by getting out her keys and keying his car in front of everyone, but because she’s Heather Parker nobody stopped her and she didn’t even get in trouble, and now it looks like he’s hooking up with this real pretty freshman girl named Shannon Tully, so Heather is preoccupied trying to make both their lives a living hell. And even Heather Parker can only torment so many people at once. If I were Shannon Tully, I’d probably switch schools. Or maybe join the witness protection program.