Break(21)

Jesse says, “I know it’s serious,” and adds twenty more pounds to the machine. “Look. You can’t say nobody warned you. Of course they’re going to suspect this.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Hmm.” Jesse starts another rep. “One would suggest that you could stop breaking your bones.”

“Shh.”

“You want to be serious, Jonah? This needs to stop. I can’t watch this.”

“Stop it.”

“You like watching me in the hospital, brother?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like seeing you like this, either.” He frowns and counts under his breath. He’s just pissed-off all over the place, this one. It’s not unexpected—he’s usually a bitch for a day or two after a reaction—but it’s still a change from the Jess I know and love.

I say, “Hey. I brought you an apple.”

He doesn’t look up. “Did you wash it?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not really hungry. So I talked to Naomi.”

“Yeah?”

“She thinks you’re on a mission.”

“Oh.”

“So, are you?” He drills me with those postanaphylactic bloodshot eyes.

“On a mission?”

“That’s right, Captain.”

I pull my knees up to my chest. “I don’t think the kind of mission Naomi means.”

“Look.” He pauses, leans forward, pulls the bottom of his T-shirt like he’s trying to make it bigger. “If you’re trying to prove something—”

“Prove what?”

“That they’re bad parents.” He drops onto the ground beside me. “You know I wouldn’t last a second in foster care.”

“Jess, hush the hell up. That’s not even a possibility.”

“They could totally get convicted of something. You’ve got like eighty-five broken bones. How much more proof would a judge need?”

“Twenty-four.”


Some scrawny sophomore walks by and considers the free weights. Jesse and I stare at him until he leaves and we can continue talking. The runner picks up his pace.

I watch him. “You wouldn’t be in foster, anyway,” I say.

He rubs his nose. “Yeah?”

“I’d take you. I’m the only one any court would trust to take care of you.”

Jesse freezes, his teeth on his lip.

I say, “What?”

Jess says, “Shit, man. Let’s do it.”

“Jesse.”

“Come on, I can’t live in that house anymore. You know how Mom and Dad are.” The timer on his cell phone goes off and he fishes two pills out of his pocket.

“They’re annoying,” I say. “That doesn’t mean they’re bad parents. Be honest.”

“Okay, you want honest? I’m allergic to all that shit they feed the baby. I’m allergic to the liquid dripping out of Mom. I’m practically allergic to the damn house.”

“I know. It sucks.”

He swallows the pills. “So don’t lie. You and I . . . we get along great. We’d be better without them.”

I rub my hair. “Yeah, socially, maybe.”

“So tell the counselor Mom and Dad are hitting you.” God, his eyes are like red stars. “And, bam. It’s just us.”

“Okay, great. And I pay your medical bills . . . how, exactly?”

He curls up like I’ve punched him. “Fuck you.”

But of course I can’t quit. I offer the apple again. “And what about Will? They’re not going to leave him with Mom and Dad if they think they’re going to slap him around.”

He makes that noise in his throat. “We could take Will.”

“Jess, you can’t even touch Will.”

He shoves the apple out of my hand and it falls to the floor, rolls across the mats. “There. Can’t eat it now.”

“Jesse.”

“Do you want to go?” he says.

I don’t, but I leave anyway. I’m afraid to push him too far, at this point. At most points.





eighteen


I SWITCH TWO FOREIGN FILMS INTO ALPHABETICAL order. “So now he’s basically entertaining the fantasy that we can get emancipated and live happily ever after. He actually wants this to happen. He’s like the kid who wants to drop out of middle school.”

Antonia takes the movies off the shelf and switches them back. “I’m sure you can get state money or something.”

“Do you not know the alphabet?” I fix the movies. “He needs health insurance.”

“You need health insurance,” Max calls from the register. He starts ringing up this tall guy renting a shitload of bad porn. He gives the guy a look. “Want me to throw in Sound of Music, no charge? You’d have yourself a par-tay.”

I cross my eyes and let the DVD covers blur together.

“Is your shoulder broken, Jonah?”

“That’s not the point.”

“They have government funding for these things,” Antonia says.

“What about the baby?”