1:00 a.m.
You’ll never guess where I am.
I am in the backseat of a rented minivan. Mom and Karen are in the middle row, chatting. Dad is sitting beside Mr. Atapattu, who is driving. Farley and Jesse are with me in the backseat. We’re heading home after the most awesome night of my life.
Here’s how it happened. Farley showed up at our apartment this morning at nine o’clock. Normally I wouldn’t even be out of bed, but Mom and Dad had woken me up at eight, with the excuse that Mom had made a big breakfast, which she didn’t want to go to waste.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
“Your parents invited me to breakfast,” he said, and maybe it’s the lingering effects of the concussion, but I didn’t even stop to think that this was weird.
Then Mr. Atapattu showed up. He was grinning, showing off his very white teeth. “Henry, will you help me with something downstairs?” he said.
By then I was starting to get suspicious, especially when everyone else came downstairs, too. The minivan was waiting out front. Karen was standing beside it. “Get in,” Mr. Atapattu said.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Seattle,” said Mr. Atapattu.
My eyes widened. “No way. No way no way no way!”
“It’s true, it’s true!” Farley shouted, grabbing my arms and jumping up and down.
“You told me about the surprise you’d been planning for your parents,” Mr. Atapattu said. “So we decided we’d turn the tables and plan a surprise for you.”
I could feel my eyes start to sting, and I had to dig my fingernails into my palms. “Thank you,” I said.
Mr. Atapattu shrugged. “It was either spend some money on this trip, or spend it on some very expensive vitamin supplements I saw on the Home Shopping Network.”
We all piled into the van. Mr. Atapattu put the key in the ignition. And suddenly I pictured Jesse, sitting on the mantelpiece. He’d loved the GWF more than anyone. Even in his darkest days, he would sit with the rest of us and watch “Saturday Night Smash-Up.”
I couldn’t leave him by himself on today of all days.
“I forgot something,” I said just as Mr. Atapattu was about to pull away.
So I ran back upstairs and brought down the shoebox. Mom started to protest: What if the van got broken into, what if the border guards asked questions? But Dad squeezed her hand, and she took a deep breath, and I climbed into the back with my brother.
We had so much fun in Seattle. We arrived at lunchtime, and it was a sunny day, so we ate our sandwiches outside before going up the Space Needle. Later on, we visited the Pike Street Market. Then it was time to hit the stadium.
I was worried that they wouldn’t let Jesse in. I’d slipped him into my backpack, and security guards were checking everyone’s bags. But when the security guard looked into mine, all he said was, “New shoes?”
“Yes,” I lied. He waved me through.
It was an awesome night. Our seats were good, in the thirtieth row. They had big-screen TV’s so you could see everything up close and personal. Farley had even brought homemade signs to wave. His said “VLAD THE IMPALER IS #1!” Mine said “THE GREAT DANE IS #2!” Farley thought that was hilarious.
My mom was thrilled when El Toro hit the ring. Best of all, he had a rematch with Jack Knife, and this time El Toro whipped his butt. He flipped Jack Knife right over the ropes and out of the ring! And my dad went mental when the Twister took on the Thompson Twins and won.
At the break, Karen took us to one of the shops in the stadium and said, “You can each spend fifty bucks.”
“We can’t spend your money –” I started.
“Yes, we can!” said Farley as he raced into the shop.
“Suresh Atapattu isn’t the only one who can treat his friends,” Karen said to me. She’d sat beside Mr. Atapattu on the way down, which was a big mistake. They’d argued about everything: his driving, which lane to choose at the border, which route to take into the city, where to park when we arrived. So if she needed us to spend her money to even out some invisible playing field, who was I to argue?
Farley bought a Vlad the Impaler T-shirt and a Vlad the Impaler poster. I bought a Great Dane hoodie and lunch box. I told Karen why I wanted the lunch box. “Do you think your parents will approve?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s better than a shoebox.”
The second half of the show was even better than the first, especially when the Great Dane hit the ring. I went nuts. And guess who his opponent was? Vlad the Impaler! Farley and I both went nuts!! (And so did my dad, which was a little embarrassing. Grown men really shouldn’t pump their fists in the air and go, “Whoooooooooooo!”)
It was a spectacular match. Best of all, the Great Dane won! And he did it with no underhanded tricks or illegal moves (although he did rub his butt in Vlad’s face when he was lying on the mat, groaning in defeat, but, really, who could blame him?).
For tonight, at least, the underdog won.
I went to my session with Cecil last Friday. He looked pretty happy to see me. I told him the story I told Karen. I told him without once using Robot-Voice. He said he was proud of me for sharing such a painful memory.
I also told him about Jodie, and the letter. I even brought in the sand dollar and let him hold it.
“Holy Moly,” he said. “It’s so smooth.”
Then he helped me write a letter to her. He actually had a lot of good advice. He even gave me a stamp.
When it was time for me to go, he said, “By the way, I’ve watched a couple episodes of ‘Saturday Night Smash-Up.’ ”
“And?”
“It’s pretty addictive,” he said.
He still needs a haircut. And new socks. But other than that? Cecil’s not such a bad guy.
Going back to school was hard.
Farley met me at the front doors on my first day. “I think word’s leaked out.”
“About your brother. They didn’t hear it from me,” he added quickly. “Or Alberta. But you were talking about your brother in the bathroom.… Maybe someone looked it up on the Web?”
Barf. “How do you know people know?”
“A couple of kids have asked me about it. Ambrose asked me yesterday.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said he should ask you.”
I sighed. “Gee, thanks.”
We entered the school. I could tell right away from the looks I got that Farley was right. People knew. But I think Farley must’ve talked to the Reach For The Top kids because, whenever I walked into a classroom, one of them would come and sit beside me right away. Like in Socials, Jerome sits beside me all the time now. He’s a man of few words. “Hey,” he’ll say as he slips into the seat beside me.
“Hey,” I’ll say back.
In Enriched English, Farley, Ambrose, and Parvana form a little triangle around me. In Enriched Math, Farley and Shen flank me on either side. It’s a little obvious, but you know what? It’s also appreciated. And after just two weeks, I notice that the glances and whispers are starting to ease up.
I asked Dad to drive me to Alberta’s house the day before I started back at school. Cricket answered the door.
“Alberta, it’s that guy you sucked face with!” she shouted before running upstairs.
Rude.
Alberta came to the door. She scowled when she saw me. She was wearing a short-sleeved, red-and-white checked shirt, like a cowgirl would wear, over thick black tights.
“I like your shirt,” I said. “Value Village?”
She just kept scowling at me.
“Alberta,” I said. “I’m sorry, about everything. I’m sorry I lied. I was scared you might not like me anymore if I told you the truth.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I forgive you,” she said. “But if you ever lie to me again …”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Things are still a little awkward between us. But I called her on my cell phone from the van this morning anyway, to tell her where I was going.
“Cool,” she said. Then, just before she hung up: “Hey, Henry. How many wrestlers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”
“I don’t know.”
“Duh, what’s a lightbulb?” There was a pause, followed by “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-HEEE-haw!”
I’d like to say that everything is good between my parents, but that would be a lie. They argue, a lot. They try to keep their voices down, but I hear them. Sometimes I escape to Karen’s or Mr. Atapattu’s, just so I can breathe.
I have to be really careful about what I say around Mom. A few nights ago she was making supper, and a song I liked came on the radio. I started to say “This band is killer,” but I stopped myself just in time and said, “This band is kil … ometers better than all the other bands out there.” And I rarely play on the PS3 anymore because most of the games involve shooting, which upsets her too much.
It’s still better having her here than not. But it isn’t great. Mom says she needs to go back to Picton soon – to get a bunch of stuff and wrap up her sessions with Dr. Dumas. She says she’s coming back, but I don’t totally believe her.
I’m not sure how my parents will feel when I tell them I’d like to move Jesse’s ashes into the Great Dane lunch box. It doesn’t have to be forever, but it’s a big step up from the shoebox. And I think Jesse would like it.
On Monday I’m going to a suicide bereavement support group with Karen. She’s convinced me to go just once, to see what it’s like. Cecil seemed really pleased when I told him about it. Going with Karen makes it seem doable.
Today was a very good day. Tomorrow might not be so good. The anniversary of IT will be awful. The dread has been building inside me for weeks.
But I also know that life goes on.
Which reminds me.
I’m going to have to ask Cecil for a new notebook.