“It’s your turn, Hunter. Tell us something. Tell us what happened to get you sent here.” Rosie stays in her spot on Casey’s lap.
Everything inside me tries to shut down, to turn off or go crazy… but then it just sort of slips away. Not really, it’s still there. I feel it. But it doesn’t have the same strength it did before because I don’t feel threatened. I feel kind of safe right now, with them. And I think maybe I want to tell them some of it. Not all of it. Not about Holly. But I want them to know me. I want them to see who I am and still like me. Maybe I need it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MY FINGERS find Stray’s hair again, my tan skin against the shock of blue. This time it isn’t Rosie’s hand he finds, it’s mine. He doesn’t just squeeze and let go, he hangs on.
When I glance up at Casey, he’s looking at me. It’s him I’m worried about. Him I’m scared I’ll let down. I don’t want to let anyone down anymore. The rest of them, I think they can handle it, but the last thing I want to see in Casey’s eyes when he looks at me is fear.
Shrugging, I reply, “I was pissed. Wrecked the trophy case at my school. Everyone saw. A teacher tried to stop me, and I hit him. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” My intent didn’t matter. I punched a teacher. The outcome is all that counts.
I wait for Casey to get scared or walk away. Wait for him to look at me the way he does Brock, or to see him rocking and shaking the way he did when those guys got into a fight.
None of that happens, though. He doesn’t look away when he says, “N-none of that m-matters. That’s not why you’re here. That’s not the why of it, which is the most important part.”
The painful swelling in my chest begins to decrease. He’s okay. He doesn’t think I’m violent.
Even if I wanted to keep it to myself, I couldn’t now. Not after what Casey said. I want his words to be true. “I used to play baseball,” I say. “I loved it, and I was good. Lots of the trophies in the case were there because of me.” Me and the talent Dad taught me.
“Do you still play?” Stray asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “My dad taught me to play. We always did it together. He was so proud of me for the way I played… I hate him.” My heart slams against my chest. My skin feels like it’s too tight, but I keep going, suddenly feeling like I have to get the words out.
“I want nothing to do with him. When I walked by that case, all I could think of was him, the things he’d done, the people he hurt. It was like it took over every part of me, the hate I feel for him.” The hate I maybe felt for myself too. “It was taunting me, laughing at me, telling me I’m like him… he loved baseball too. I used to want to be like him, before I really knew who he was, and I just snapped. I wanted to sever any connection I had to him. It’s stupid, but those trophies were a part of it. They were the only thing I could control at the time, so I did it. Picked up a trash can and slammed it into the glass.”
I’m there again. Seeing glass shatter, shards of it hitting the floor. Hearing people scream. Feeling them look at me. The rage is there, stronger than everything else. “I hit the case again and again. People ran, some watched. A teacher tried to stop me, but I couldn’t stop. I had to cut that connection with my dad… and I just swung… hit him… and it helped. All of it helped.” Not forever, but for a moment, for a brief second, it helped.
Everyone is quiet. I’m scared to look at them. I’m not like they are. Stray’s here because he hurts himself. Bethany and Casey too. Rosie because she does things people don’t understand like moving homeless people into her house. They hurt themselves, not others.
“Let’s play,” Stray says, breaking up the silence.
“What?” That’s it? They aren’t going to call me on the shit I’ve done?
“Let’s play baseball. Play with me.” He scrambles up into a sitting position.
“With us,” Rosie adds, but Stray doesn’t turn away from me.
“I don’t play anymore.”
“You love it. Don’t let anyone take that way. Live in the moment, remember? You never know when everything’s going to go away.” Like it has for Stray. He’s lost so much, but he doesn’t sit around and feel sorry for himself.
“I… I’ll play,” Casey says.
“Me too,” Bethany adds.
And I want it, want it so much. Baseball is in my blood. Losing that is like losing a part of me, losing Hunter.
“Do they have a bat and stuff?” My pulse goes wild for a different reason now. For the same reason it went wild when I kissed Stray—want, excitement, happiness.
“I’ll find out.” Stray pushes to his feet and runs away. I was right. He would be a good runner. Maybe if he had a different life, if he had consistency, he could have done it. Maybe if he’d had an outlet like running, he could have used that as a way to feel better instead of cutting himself.
Mrs. Spencer is by the door, and he goes to her, says something, and they walk inside.
“You really think it’s okay? Me? Because of what I did….” There’s zero possibility of my vision diverting from Casey as I wait for an answer. Rosie’s sitting up now. I hadn’t noticed her move.
He shrugs. “Like we said before, you just feel things differently.” Somehow those words help.
Stray’s coming toward us again. He has a bag over his shoulder and a bat in his hand. We all stand, but it’s me who runs for him.
“This is all they had. It’ll work, though.” He hands the bag to me. The equipment is old. There are random gloves, and a few balls. We scavenge what’s in decent shape. There aren’t enough gloves for everyone, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t break up into teams either.
Rosie wants to bat first. I pitch, and Stray catches, if you can really call it that. Basically he stands far enough behind Rosie not to get hit and to get the ball if she misses. And she does, five times before she hits it. The ball goes straight for Bethany, who has to chase after it. She trips, laughs, before getting up to run for it again.
Her throw for me is wide and short, meaning I have to run for the ball, but I don’t care. We’re playing ball, my friends and I. I’m getting this back.
Casey bats next, and I’m surprised when he hits it on the first swing. Rosie and Bethany are holding hands and spinning in our makeshift field, before they pay attention and go after the ball.
It’s the most ridiculous game I’ve seen. It’s random and messy and full of laughs and missed balls and horrible throws.
It’s perfect.
When it’s my turn to bat, Rosie pitches. I point the bat toward where the stands would be, signaling a home run. No one gets it, but I still laugh.
“Swing, batta, batta, swing!” Stray chants from behind me, but Rosie’s pitch hits the grass before it even reaches me.
“You missed,” Stray says.
“It didn’t even make it to me!” I counter.
“Which is likely going to continue to be a problem. I don’t know, run after the ball or something.”
I roll my eyes at him before tossing the baseball back to Rosie. After I scoot up, she throws it my way again. I have to take a few steps forward, but I do, swinging at the same time. It shoots up, out, high over all of their heads.
None of us move. We all just stand there and watch it fly.
“Don’t let anyone take this away from you,” Stray says from close by. He must have moved when I wasn’t watching. “Just like that day when I decided I wouldn’t be a victim. When I decided I was Stray. Only you can decide. Don’t give anyone else that power.”
He’s right. I know he is. I just have to be strong enough to do it. Strong like him. I wrap an arm around his neck and pull him closer before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. I’m not sure what the staff would do if they saw, but I can’t stop myself. “Thank you.”
We look out to see Rosie and Bethany grabbing Casey’s hands, trying to get him to spin with them. He’s fighting them but laughing the whole time, and I think that in this moment, all of us are flying just
as high as my baseball went. Maybe higher.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“MAMA HAS to work tonight?” Holly looks toward the ground when she speaks to me. She’s being weirdly clingy. I grab a pair of shorts and toss them into my bag.
“Yep, she’s doing a graveyard shift, twerp.”
“I hate it when she has to work,” she whispers.
Looking around my room, I find a T-shirt on the floor and add it to my bag. “Time to cut the cord, Holly. You’re getting too old for that crap. It’s not a big deal. She has to work; she’ll be home in the morning. Dad will be here with you.” Deciding that’s enough, I zip my backpack closed.
“You’re leaving?” Holly’s voice comes out a rush.
“Duh. It’s Friday night. Of course I’m going out.” We’re walking to The Teen Center to play air hockey, and then I’m staying at my best friend’s house.
She steps farther into my room. “Hunter… don’t go.” She reaches for my arm.
Seriously? Like I’m going to skip hanging with my friends to be bored at home. “Get outta my room. You’re being a baby.”
But she doesn’t leave. Holly steps closer, and her eyes are full of that dramatic little girl craziness. The one that thinks there are monsters under her bed. “I don’t want you to go. Will you stay with me? I’ll be your maid for the whole weekend. If you want something to drink or eat, or to change the channel. I’ll do it all. I can clean your room too. I don’t like it when you and Mom are both gone.”
I roll my eyes. Mom totally babies her too much. “Dude, just chill with Dad. Relax. Have fun stayin’ home while I go out!” I ruffle her hair because I know it annoys her and jog away.
My eyes jerk open, my body wet with sweat. I surge up in my bed, looking around for Holly, expecting her to be here and for me to get to tell her I’m sorry I didn’t hear what she tried to tell me. That I’m sorry for being a crappy brother, who didn’t ask why she didn’t want to be alone with Dad.
She’s not here, though. She’s at home while I’m at Better Days. I left her again, only this time it’s because it was better for her. I couldn’t keep it together enough to stay with her.
My stomach cramps. If I stay in this bed another second I’m going to lose it, so I roll out of it. My eyes feel like they’ve been pinned open. There’s no chance of me closing them again tonight, and I don’t want to. Don’t want to close them ever again if memories like that are waiting for me.
Casey’s clarinet case is open, leaning against his footboard. I wish I had something like that to distract me. For a second I consider waking him. Maybe he can help. Maybe I can forget. The room is getting smaller again, when it hasn’t done that in so long.
I know why it is now. The closer it gets to family therapy, the more hollowed out I feel again. They don’t belong here. I don’t want Holly to come.
There’s a noise in the hallway, coming from the direction of Stray’s room—a door opening and closing quietly.
Then it’s my door. I should move, get into bed or something, but I can’t. It’s Gates. He opens the door and looks right at me. “Back in bed, Donovan,” he says.
Fuck you! That’s not my name! But it is.
There must be panic on my face because he asks, “Do you need anything?” a little gentler than he spoke before.
I need him to go away. I need him not to be on shift tonight so I can sneak out of my room and see Stray.
I need to go back to the day in my dream and tell Holly I’ll stay with her. That I’ll never leave her alone with him again.
“No.”
He watches me until I get back into bed. Once the door closes again, I count to ten. As soon as I reach it, Casey whispers, “Are you okay?”
No. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” But he can probably tell I’m not. Part of me thinks I should be. By now I should be okay, but I’m not. Why aren’t I?
After rolling out of bed, I go into the bathroom without another word. I close the door, don’t bother with the light, before I slide down the far wall and drop my head back against it.
Alone.
That’s when I hear it, the soft rap, rap, rap on the wall. Stray. He told me that you can hear through the bathroom walls. He must have known Gates came into my room, must know I’m losing it.
I put my hand against the wall, consider knocking back, but then he does it again, letting me know he’s there. That he hasn’t left me alone. And out in the room, I know Casey would be there for me too, if I’d let him.
My eyes hurt, my lids are scratchy… and I think I might want to cry. Cry. I haven’t cried at all, but the tears want to come now. They’re right there, trying to break through, but they’re not strong enough. Maybe if I could, I would feel better. Maybe I could wash it all away.
He knocks again.
I do the same and then slide farther down, curl into a ball on the bathroom floor. Putting my hand on the wall, I knock. Then Stray does it back.
I see him there, lying like me, his hand touching the same spot as mine, drywall and paint between us. Not walking away. Not leaving me alone.
“I DON’T want Mom and Holly to come tomorrow.” Watching Dr. Harrison, I hope for a sign that tells me how she feels about that. It doesn’t come, just questions. Always more questions.
She leans back in her chair. “Did you tell your mom that?”
There’s a pinch in my chest. If I tell her, it’ll hurt her. She’s already had to deal with so much; I don’t want to add to that, which is also what coming here will do. No one wants to see their son in a place like this. “No.”
“I won’t do your dirty work for you. If you don’t want her to come, you’ll have to tell her. That doesn’t mean she’ll listen, but I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing how you feel.”
“It’ll make her sad,” I snap. To me that’s pretty obvious, so why the heck would I do it?
“And it’s important to you that you don’t do that?”
That has to be the dumbest question I’ve ever heard. She really must think I’m an asshole. “Of course it is. She’s my mom. It’s not her fault.”
“But it’s yours?”
Because I didn’t stay! She asked me to stay with her, but I never did! “Fine. Whatever. If you don’t care about my mom and Holly, that’s your business. I don’t see how coming here will do them any good.”
She pauses for a second, and then her eyes get soft, her lips turn down slightly, and I think she might feel sorry for me.
“They get to see you. Even if no one gets anything else out of the day, you get to see each other. That counts for something.”
I miss them… I miss them so much, and I almost think Dr. Harrison is right. My family loves me and I love them. It’s killing Mom to be away from me. There’s nothing inside of me that doubts that, even if I don’t always act like it.
“How’s your anger?” she changes the subject, and I quietly thank her for it.
“Fine.”
“Are you sleeping well?”
Until last night I was sleeping better. “Yeah.”
“Nightmares?”
Yes. “No.”
Dr. Harrison pushes her tablet and pad of paper away from her, and leans on the desk. “You’re going to do great with them, Hunter.”
I don’t tell her that I know what she said isn’t true. How can I do well with Holly when I can’t even look her in the eyes?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
BETHANY EATS more at lunch than I’ve seen her eat for days. Even the nurse seems impressed when she checks her plate. Bethany looks taller almost, proud when she thanks the nurse, making the worry in my chest immediately ease up. Making me want to hold my head up a little higher for her.
She’s doing well.
She’s eating.
She’s going to be okay.
I need them all to be okay.
“See? I knew you had it in you. Good job, sweets.” Rosie winks at her. “I hate to leave you guys, but I have something I have
to do for my activity this afternoon. My shrink is being ridiculous.” Rosie stands up.
“I’m playing today. They said I can practice my clarinet.” We all know he doesn’t need the practice, but he needs to play. There’s a big difference.
“I have to meet my doctor to talk about tomorrow. I can’t believe my parents are coming. They never, ever come. Well, my dad doesn’t, at least. He separated from me in the divorce too.” Bethany sort of wrings her hands together, looking nervous. I know her bulimia started when her dad told her she was gaining weight. Obviously that can’t be what it’s all about, but it doesn’t take a genius to see her family doesn’t pay much attention to her. They ship her around to facility after facility… but tomorrow, they get to talk about taking her out of here. She might get to go home. I’m happy for her about that.
“Of course they’re both coming. I’m sure they’re excited to plan getting you out of here!” Rosie gives her a hug and then zips away.
“Yeah, sure. See you guys later.” Bethany goes too, followed by Casey.
“Looks like it’s just us.” I turn to Stray.
“I’m okay with that if you are.”
Yeah, I’m definitely okay with it.
“I told them I’d work in the stables. Can you come out there with me?”
“Yeah, ever since Mrs. Spencer tried to get me to garden that one time with Megan, she’s been pretty cool about letting me do what I want, as long as I actually do something.” I’d much rather be in the stables with Stray than in the garden with Megan. I’d rather be with him than doing almost anything else. Stray’s been through way more than I ever have, yet he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t hit people or treat people like shit. I wish I knew how to do that. He makes people feel better just by being around them.
“Let’s go.”
The whole time we walk out to the horses, I think about telling him I appreciated last night. It’s there, hanging out between us, but the words don’t cross my lips either. It’s embarrassing that Casey found me sleeping on the floor of the bathroom. That just like the day when those kids gave Stray a hard time, he still always knows how to keep going better than I do.