Break(45)

“Uh-uh. Holy shit, you’re strong.” I take the ball from him, balance it in my one hand, and shoot. “Score.”

“Yep. Putting you down. Watch your toes, okay?”

He could keep playing for ages, I know, but he senses I’m getting tired and guides me over to the bench. “How’s everything here?” he asks.

I consider telling him about Tyler and Leah, then decide that would be a really, really bad idea. “Fine,” I say. “The people here are wearing on me. I kind of want to come home.”


“Kind of?” He stretches his legs out. “I miss you like f*ckass.”

“I know. But you’re doing okay without me.”

“Stop saying that.” Jess’s cell phone timer goes off and he pops a few pills into his mouth. “You look exhausted.”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Yeah, me neither.” He shifts and pulls his legs onto the bench. “So when are you coming home?”

“It’s sort of hard to say. The psychiatrist doesn’t think I’m ready.” I pull on my fingers. “Doesn’t believe me when I say I’m not breaking anymore.”

“But you aren’t, are you?”

I shake my head.

“But he doesn’t believe you?”

“He said nothing’s changed. Said there’s no real reason for me to change my behavior, and that people don’t just change without motivation.”

“He’s keeping you here to spout philosophies at you?”

“I just don’t understand what he expects me to change. That’s the whole damn problem, is that I can’t change anything.”

Jess scratches his cheek. “Maybe I could talk to him. Tell him we need you at home?”

“Stop scratching. And you’re not going to convince anybody. You got to just wait it out, Jess. They’re treating me well. Give me, like, a week to convince them I’m not crazy, and I’ll be at home making you sick just like always.”

He scratches his wrist. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing. Why are you scratching so much?”

He shrugs.

“You okay?”

He shrugs again, and I know what that means. And he starts clearing his throat. Shit.

“All right,” I say. “Come inside and wash your hands. You probably just touched something.”

He nods. He’s making those I-trust-you eyes.

“You have the Epi? Just in case?”

“Uh-huh.”

“All right. Come on. You’re okay.” I haul him up and lead him through the doors. “Mackenzie,” I say. “Do you have a bathroom on this floor we can use?”

She makes speed-of-light eye contact with me. I bite my lip.

She says, “Just bring him upstairs. It’s fine. I’ll clear it.”

“Thanks, you.”

She nods.

Once we’re in the elevator, I give Jesse a real examination. His eyes are red and swollen, but he’s not too broken out. “I think you’re allergic to this building.”

He squeezes his runny nose. “What a surprise.”

I bring him to the bathroom I share with Tyler and help him splash his face with water.

“You’re wheezing a little bit,” I say. “Is this going to be a big thing?”

God please no please no please no not again.

He inhales, slowly. “Just let me sit in your room for a while, okay?”

I bring him into my room and we sit on the floor, our backs against the bed. He puts his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes.

Tyler peeks in, his taped-up fingers on the door frame. “Hey,” he says.

I give him an apologetic smile and mouth, Go away.

He points at Jesse. “He okay?”

“He’s great. Can we get a minute, Tyler?”

He nods and whispers, “Sorry” on his way out.

“Who was that?” Jesse asks.

“Tyler. Just one of the boys here.”

“What happened to his hand?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I feel Jess’s heartbeat on my shoulder, and it’s slow and steady. Which could be good or bad, depending on how serious this reaction is. “You’re fine.” I grip his hand. “Everything’s fine.”

I feel my heart going double time to his.

Please be okay.

Please be okay.

He sneezes into my shirt. “Please be okay,” I say.

“Okay.”

“God, Jess, I’m sorry. Wait.” I find an extra dose of Benadryl in my backpack and make him take it. He keeps snuffling for a few minutes, but his breathing comes back and the whites of his eyes lighten and I see the reaction slow and then stop.

“Y’okay?” I say.

“Yeah.”

Fuck, why did I make him come here? He was perfectly healthy, and I drag him here when I know this place is bad for him. I could kill myself.

“You sure you’re going to be fine?”

“Positive. But I should probably go.”

“Of course.”

I get Jesse off the floor and dust him off. I put my hand on his chest and make him breathe, check his jaw for hives, make him open his mouth so I can look at his throat . . . just all the shit you have to do.