You'd Be Home Now (19)

Too late, I think as I fall asleep.

Too late.





12


JOEY AND I ARE on the sectional, watching television, Fuzzy curled in my lap. I’m trying to be quiet with Joey, slow. He’s mostly been in his room, sleeping, for the few days he’s been back and I just felt so grateful when he came downstairs and sat on the couch with me. I don’t want to ruin it.

The doorbell rings, making us both jump. Fuzzy goes crazy, leaping off me and running to the foyer, yipping all the way. The doorbell rings again. Joey and I look at each other.

“Don’t look at me,” he says. “You get it.” He nudges me with his foot.

When I open the door, Max deVos is standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey, Emory,” he says. “Joey home?”

Max deVos once got so messed up at school his head dropped into the mashed potatoes on his lunch tray. All his friends laughed and kept eating. Only Joey lifted him up and cleaned him off. Slapped his face until he came to and told the cafeteria monitor, Ms. Richards, that Max was just tired from studying, which I’m sure she didn’t believe for a second, because, well, it’s Max deVos. His brain is only wired for two things: pot and skateboarding.

“I don’t know, Max,” I say tentatively. I’m thinking about what our mom said about Joey’s friends coming over. You don’t want to get on my mother’s bad side.

    “I just want to say hi. I don’t have anything.” He takes his hands from his pockets, holds them out, empty.

From behind me, Joey says, “Hey, man.” His voice sounds hesitant.

Max’s eyes brighten. “Dude, hey. Wow, your hair. That’s intense. How you been?”

“How do you think?” Joey says.

Max’s smile dies. “Sorry, man. I just thought I’d come over, maybe play some Assassin’s Creed. Hang out.”

Next to me, Joey shifts in an uncomfortable way.

“You high?” he asks Max softly.

“What? No! I mean, not right now, anyway. I swear, I just want to hang out.”

“I can’t,” my brother says slowly. “I can’t hang out with anyone who’s using. I’ll get kicked out of the house.”

Max’s face falls. “Are you kidding me? I can’t even play a video game with you?”

Joey swallows hard. “No.”

“Dude. I’m your friend.” Max’s voice cracks. “This is stupid.”

“I can’t. I just can’t. It is the way it is. I gotta go, Max.” Joey walks away.

Max looks at me. “I mean, for real?”

“For real,” I answer.

“Like for how long?”

“I’m not really sure? I mean, he has to try to be sober forever, Max.”

“Shit.” Max shoves his hands back in his pockets, shakes his head. He turns and walks down the steps, back to his skateboard, rides away. I shut the door.

Joey’s pacing in the living room.

“You’ll make other friends,” I tell him. But I’m not sure I believe it. The kids Joey hangs out with all get high, for the most part. And like me, he’s probably not going to get the best reception when school starts, because of Candy MontClair.

    “No, I won’t.” He stops pacing. “Can I borrow your phone? Mom hasn’t bought me another one yet.”

“I don’t know…” My fingers tighten around my phone. What if he calls someone, maybe Max, and he disappears, and they get high?

“I just want to call Shadow, okay? He was my Blue Spruce counselor. I need to talk to someone. You can check the damn number if you want. I can put it on speakerphone! Jesus!” He’s yelling.

“Okay,” I say, my voice shaking. “Calm down.” I hand my phone to him.

He grabs it from me. Takes a few deep breaths. “Sorry.”

Then he says, “No, I’m not sorry. I need to do this. I should have just said thank you.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, but is it? It’s good that he’s calling his counselor, right? My mom can’t get mad about that. Calling your counselor is definitely something that spells reaching out and asking for help. The Blue Spruce handbook says that’s a good thing.

Joey goes into the kitchen. I stand outside the doorway.

In a few minutes, he starts talking. “It’s me. Joe Ward. You said I could call anytime.”

Came to my house

Just wanted to play video games

How am I supposed to

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t use

Outpatient and school start next week it’s overwhelming You didn’t tell me they’d take my doors

    Well, they did

I’m like a prisoner here

Shit

Can’t calm down

My sister

Okay

Joey calls my name. I step into the kitchen. The tile is cold under my bare feet.

“He wants to talk to you.”

“What? Me? Why? No.” I shake my head. What am I supposed to say to his counselor? “Hi, tell me how to keep my brother from dying?”

“Please.” Joey holds the phone out, his hand shaking. I take it.