Break(41)

“Calm down.”

Mom and Dad just sit there, bouncing their eyes between Jesse and me.

He starts coughing.

“Look, take him home,” I say, my stomach hurting. “They air-freshen like crazy here. It isn’t good for him. He shouldn’t be here.”

Jess clears his throat. “I’m okay.”

Yeah, he was okay before he got here. But now . . . it’s not like I think he’s on the brink of death, but his voice is stuffed up and his eyes are getting red and those throat-clearing noises are just too hard to listen to. He can’t belong here. He can’t belong at home, and he can’t belong here. He can’t belong anywhere I am.

“Look at him,” I say. “He needs to get out of here.”

Mom and Dad gather their coats, and I pull Jesse to the side to say good-bye. “Come home,” he says.

“I will. Look,” I say, and my voice goes all on its own. “Come visit on your own, okay? So we won’t have to deal with them. And we’ll stay outside.” I fish a tissue out of my pocket and hand it to him. “More fresh air, less air freshener.”

He laughs, and his throat sounds wet. “Okay. Look . . . please get home ASAP. We need you, all right?”

“You’re doing great. Look at you.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t care. Come home.”

Yeah, but I care, you idiot. Someone has to look out for you.

They all trample out, Jesse behind with his hands in his pockets, and I collapse into one of the armchairs. Mackenzie watches me from the desk.

Tyler perches on a chair beside me. “Was that your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He stretches his legs out. “He didn’t look sick.”

“Yeah, I know.” I nod. “He might be better without me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Trust me.” I push my hair back. “I don’t want to.” But I’m running out of other options.





thirty-four


STEPHEN SAYS, “COME ON OUT. WE’RE HAVING A crazy-kid party.” He clings to my door like it’s all that’s keeping him standing.

“Mmmm.” I put my hands in my hair. “I don’t really feel like it.”

“You’ve been in your room for hours.”

What am I supposed to say? I’ve been sick to my stomach ever since Mom and Dad and Jesse left.

Stephen sits at the foot of my bed. “Leah says your brother’s cute.”

“Yeah. He’s good-looking when he’s healthy.” I stretch my legs out. “I just . . . I don’t know if I should go home.”

“Like now?”

“Like when they let me out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My brother. He never looked that good when I was at home.”

“You can’t seriously think that your being here is making him better. You’ve been here for, like, a day. And aren’t you guys close?”

I shrug, because “close” isn’t exactly the word.

He shakes his head slowly. “Come into the lounge.”

“I’m not feeling really social.”

“Yeah. You’re depressed. You think we don’t know depressed? Come on, Jonah.”

I pull on a pair of socks and follow Stephen to the lounge. All the chairs are abandoned and everyone’s crashed on the floor, flopped on top of one another in a big teenage pile.

“Hey, Jonah,” they chorus.

I crawl into the mess and rest my head on Belle’s shoulder. She pats it like I’m a good dog, and I think about Charlotte.

“Tyler’s telling us a story,” she says.

Tyler shifts. “So, yeah . . . that’s kind of why I hate my stepfather. I kind of blame him.”

“You can’t blame him for your going psycho,” Leah says.

“What, and you don’t hate anyone for your . . . you know.”

“Of course not. It’s my fault. No one made me stop eating.”

Belle’s shirt rides up and I see all the cuts above her hips. My stomach turns flip-flops.

“What about you, Jonah?” someone, everyone asks.

I close my eyes and tell them about the car accident, and after the car accident, and after after the car accident. . . .

They all suck in their breath.

“That sounds f*cking awful.” Tyler rolls onto his stomach.

“It’s sort of hard to remember the really bad parts.” Of the accident. Of all of it.

He says, “Doesn’t it hurt? Breaking your bones?”

Talking about it is this weird type of freedom. “Totally, yeah, but there is that adrenaline rush.”

Stephen nods.

“So that’s why you do it?” Tyler says.

I laugh. “I don’t know if I should be giving you guys any self-injury motivations.”

They laugh too.

“Come on, Jonah.”

I shake my head.

Tyler concedes. “But you do have a reason, right?”

“Yeah. Oh, definitely have a reason.” I stare up at the ceiling. My heart throbs as I breathe. “I just didn’t always know what it was.”