Big Fat Disaster (29 page)

“I heard the truck coming and I was afraid he was going to get hit, so I ran toward him as fast as I could. I tried to reach him…and I was just about to knock him out of the way of the truck, when I slipped on some rocks…and the next thing I knew, I was on the side of the road with a broken arm.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “The truck driver says it all happened lightning-fast, but he is ninety-five percent certain that you were in the road before Ryan was. The problem is, the driver had trace amounts of alcohol in his blood, so we can’t take his testimony at face value.”

Mom gasps. “You mean the driver was drunk?”

Chief Taylor shakes his head. “No, his blood alcohol level was too low to consider him impaired. It’s just standard procedure to test commercial drivers’ blood any time there’s a fatality accident.”

I feel the yellow pill kicking in: Woozy warmth is coating the inside of my skull and spreading through my body. I breathe in slowly and let it out. “I’ve told you what happened.” I turn to Mom. “My arm hurts. I need to go lay down.”

She stands, moves to the front door, and holds it open, signaling Chief Taylor that our interview is over. “You should be satisfied now. If you’re not, then I don’t know what you’re looking to find here. It’s not Colby’s fault that Ryan was killed. She didn’t force him into that road. He put himself there.”

Leah has Ryan’s body cremated, and Mr. McDaniel offers to hold a memorial service at the high school. The cafetorium stage is lined in funeral wreaths, and the place is so full of teenagers, it looks like lunchtime.

One kid after another comes up on the stage to speak about Ryan and what he meant to them: how he was so funny, and the way he was always there for them when they needed someone to talk to. I never knew
that
Ryan.

I wish I could quiz each speaker:
Excuse me, but did you bail on Ryan-the-Traitor after he reported Jared for raping that girl named Kimmie? Or did you keep having these deep, funny, meaningful conversations with Ryan-Your-Best-Bud?

It’s like a beauty pageant of mourning. Each speaker is just a little more broken up than the last one about the person so many people had labeled “The Friendly Neighborhood Narc” and “Snitch.” But nobody calls Ryan any names at his memorial service. Nobody mentions that he got the shit kicked out of him on the last day of school, the YouTube video of the beating that immediately disappeared, or that when he walked down the hall they gave him the middle finger and mouthed, ‘Fuck you!’ behind his back. I keep an eye out for Mark, José, and Fredrick, but I don’t see them. Doesn’t mean they aren’t there; I ask Mom for a pain pill about halfway through the service, so my mind gets a little fuzzy.

When it’s over, I spy Kayley and Kara as we’re walking to the car. They appear to be arguing, passing something back and forth. They notice us, and Kayley gives Kara a shove in our direction. Kara approaches Leah with something black in her hand.

“I found this phone in the girl’s bathroom the day Ryan died. I wasn’t sure whose phone it was, but somebody told me they thought it was Ryan’s because his phone was, you know, stolen. Or something. So…”

Leah doesn’t respond, and Kara throws her arms around her shoulders. She sounds like she’s crying, but there are no tears. “I—I thought it might have, you know, pictures or videos on it that you might want to have since, you know, Ryan took lots of them. I mean, there’s lots of them on his phone, I guess, I mean—I—I didn’t look at all of them or anything…Anyway, I wanted you to have it.”

“Thank you,” Leah says woodenly.

She doesn’t hug Kara back.

Anna and Sean drop in to see Leah after the memorial service, and she directs them to our trailer. I snuck an extra pain pill when Mom left her purse on the kitchen counter, and I’m resting on my bed waiting for renewed numbness to set in. When Mom taps on my bedroom door and announces that I have company, I try to wake up.

Anna gingerly hugs me and fluffs my pillows for me. “Hey, we miss you at the
Nobodies
table.”

“You barely know me,” I mutter. “It’s like what you said about your shitty little school: How can you miss what you’ve never known?”

She looks like I slapped her. “Well, I knew Ryan, and I loved him. You’re his cousin, so that means I care about you, too. Besides, if you’ll remember, I took up for you when
Abercrombie and Bitch
were bugging you. I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, if you say so,” I mumble. Anna’s eyes flash, and I expect her to flip me the bird the way she does everyone else.

Sean fidgets with a rip in the knee of his jeans, making it larger. His hands are shaking and he chokes out, “It’s…it’s pretty awesome that you tried to save Ryan like that. Even though, you know, he still…died.”

I glare at him. “That has got to be the dumbest thing anyone has ever said.”

Anna leans forward. “I know you feel bad, but at least you tried. I mean—”

I cut her off and ask bitterly, “Did you ‘
Like
’ the page, too, so that you could see the video that
Mr. Wonderful
made?”

Her eyes are huge. “Facebook took it down already.”

I sit up; my head swims. “That’s not what I asked. Did you
see
the video he made?”

She glances at Sean; they both look at their feet.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I lie back onto my pillows and carefully readjust my injured arm. I stare at my lower dresser drawer and wish it still held my snack stash. It’s gone now, though, thanks to Mom catching me with the cookies.

Anna blurts, “Look, we’re here, okay? Yeah, we saw the video, but…we’re here. It didn’t change the way we feel about you. We’re sorry about Ryan—about him dying…about
everything
. I can’t imagine him doing something so dickish as making that video! Something must have made him do that—something crazy—because the person I knew was really sweet.”

I choke out, “Like, if I wasn’t so fat, he wouldn’t have made it?”
Jeez, maybe I’m the only person in the world who thinks it’s fucked up that my mom said that.

Sean’s voice is high. “What? No, man, that’s crazy. Are you…What kind of drugs are you
taking
? Ryan made a mistake, okay? But he’s not the one who uploaded the video to Facebook. He
couldn’t
be.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “I mean, look: when Ryan wanted to report what Jared did to that girl,
I
tried to talk him out of it. I told him that if he did it, he’d be bringing a
huge
shitstorm down on himself, and, boy, was I right…The thing is, Ryan
insisted
that he had to tell. Said he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t. So…I guess what I’m saying is, even though Ryan fucked up by filming you through your window, I
know
he wasn’t such a jerk that he’d upload it online. There’s
just no way
.”

Sean kneels next to my bed, like he’s pleading. “Ryan and I were friends for years, and he’d
never
do something that cruel. I mean, yeah, Ryan could be a jerk sometimes, but he wasn’t a heartless asshole or anything. Seriously, Colby.” Sean’s voice cracks and even though I refuse to look at him, I can tell he’s starting to cry.

I sniff and say coldly, “Then I guess I don’t regret trying to save him.”
If everybody believes this story, why not go with it? The only person who knows the truth sure isn’t talking. Hell, he’s not even a whole
person
anymore. This could be my chance for a brand-new start,
if
people can forget about the Colby Denton Fan Club and my Fat Ass jeans dance. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’m not even sure I would have tried to save him if he had been trying to die.

Moments pass with no one speaking. Sean unfolds himself and gets to his feet in the cramped space between my bed and dresser. Finally, Anna speaks up. “Look, we’re going to go, okay? It’s obvious that you don’t feel like being around anybody, and we’ll see you when you come back to school. I hope you feel better.”

Sean scoots sideways until he’s standing directly in front of me. I stare at the stainless steel chain draped between his belt loop and pocket, and I imagine wrapping it around my neck until I can’t breathe. He says softly, “Peace out, Colby.”

“Peace out,” I whisper.

I took my last pain pill on Sunday around noon, and I’m dreading school without something between reality and me. While Mom’s busy putting on her makeup Monday morning, I rifle through her purse, hoping that one of my pills might have fallen to the bottom of it. I find my iPod hidden in the zipper compartment. I take it out and slide it into my pocket.

There are two lint-covered Midol tablets under her billfold, but I don’t bother swallowing them. Bloating and cramps are not my biggest problem.

I enter Mom’s bathroom, lower the lid on the toilet, sit fully clothed, and watch Mom expertly apply eyeliner. “Can I please stay home just one more day? What if someone bumps my arm? The bone might get knocked out of place.”

She frowns. “Look, Colby, I know you don’t want to go to school and face all the questions. If people ask you about “The Accident,” just tell them you don’t want to talk about it.”

I watch a wolf spider crawl stealthily out of the clothes hamper and sneak along the baseboard. “We’re still calling it that? ‘
The Accident
’?”

She gives me a sideways look. “Out of respect for Leah, yes. The medical examiner could not conclusively rule Ryan’s death a pedestrian suicide, and she still doesn’t believe that he was trying to kill himself. You and I know what really happened, but we don’t have to keep hammering Leah with it.”

Mom fluffs her bangs with a brush, spritzes them with hairspray, and helps me to a standing position. She takes my face in her hands. “I’ve been thinking, Colby. So many people have expressed this to me in the last week, and…it’s really made me realize that even though I dislike your food issues, and I
wish
you could find it in yourself to change, well…just knowing that you were willing to sacrifice your life for Ryan’s has made me see you in a whole new light. Other people see you as a hero, and it has made me realize that you
are
a hero.
You are
.” She blinks back tears. “I don’t think I’ve appreciated you for the selfless person you are until now. I am very proud to be your mother.” She kisses me on top of the head. “I don’t say it often enough: I love you.” She gently wraps me in a hug.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Mom sends Drew and me out the door with instructions to eat at school. She’s out of money, and we’re out of groceries. Guess I shouldn’t have eaten that entire box of Pop Tarts last week…at least not all at once. Good thing they’re reopening Sugar’s today, so Mom can make some money.

Leah’s house is overflowing with prepared meals that her friends have dropped off in recent days, but I’d rather be hungry than go to her house for food. It’d mean I have to face her.

She’s like a zombie, in a daze, mindlessly putting one foot in front of the other. The only person she really loved in the whole world is gone, and even though she hasn’t said so, she must know that it’s my fault. She
must
. Maybe I’m wrong about needing to wear a scarlet D for “Disaster.” Maybe I need an M for “Murderer.”