Hellhole (26 page)

Cautious, he stepped inside. “Hello?” he called.

To his horror, someone answered back.

“Max?” Principal Gregory shouted from deep within the house. “Is that you?”

“We're in here!” Chief Gregory added. “Come join the party!”

What. The.

Dazed, Max headed into his mother's room. Inside was a tableau he wouldn't be able to forget for some time: Principal Gregory, seated at the foot of his mom's bed; Chief Gregory, lounging in Max's usual ratty chair at her bedside; Audie, standing stiffly beside him, mouthing “I AM SO SORRY” to Max; and, of course, Max's mom, shrunken against her pillow, looking shell-shocked, betrayed, and humiliated beyond belief.

Immediately Max swallowed and looked at the ground. He'd avoided his mother completely since he'd drunkenly snapped at her the night before, the mix of shame and awkwardness and pain too much for him to face.

And now this.

“I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Max,” Principal Gregory said, “but you just seemed so agitated in my office yesterday, I wanted to come over and see for myself that everything was all right at home.”

“Oh,” said Max.

“Which it is, as you can see,” Max's mom said, just a shade away from being rude. “You didn't have to take the trouble to come over—”

“Oh, we were just on our way out to the booster club potluck meeting, got a few more plans to finalize for the pep rally tomorrow,” said Chief Gregory, “and we thought we'd stop by for a quick little visit. Just like the old days. Here, Max, have some asparagus.”

He held out a covered baking dish, bending back a corner of the aluminum foil. Max robotically seized a spear of asparagus and shoved it into his mouth. He in fact hated asparagus, but given that he was too mind-blown to taste a single bite, the sky was the culinary limit.

“How was school today, Max?” Chief Gregory asked, clearly settling in for A Conversation, prompting another cringe from Max's mom. “I heard you had a bit of trouble with the ole prince of Denmark.”

Max paused mid-chew. “Who?”

“Hamlet,” Audie said.

Is my English class aired live on network television or something? How does everyone know about this?
“Oh, yeah, him,” Max said. “Yeah, I don't know what happened there. Guess I read it wrong. Shakespeare's hard sometimes.” He went back in for more asparagus spears, as they were the only things in the room not judging him. Although, come to think of it, they looked a little disappointed in him, too.

“You're having trouble with your classes?” Max's mom said, now a combination of annoyed
and
worried.

“No,” Max said, not wanting to hash this out in front of the intruders. “Just English. Just
Hamlet.
”

“Audie's great at Shakespeare,” Chief Gregory said proudly. “Recite a sonnet, hon.”

Audie dutifully recited a sonnet.

Max gave her a look. Specifically, the kind of look that said either
Who commands someone to recite a sonnet?
or
Who recites a sonnet on command?

Mrs. Gregory sighed contently when Audie finished. “I'm telling you, sweetie, that voice of yours is meant for the stage. Broadway'd be lucky to have you!”

Audie made a murderous face. “Mom.”

“I know, I know, football needs you more.” She gave Max's mom a conspiratorial glance. “Can't blame a mom for trying, right?”

Max's mom gave a halfhearted smile.

The room went silent for a moment. Chief Gregory rustled the aluminum foil again.

“So, Max,” Principal Gregory said in a jolly voice, in an effort to relieve the tension, “Audie tells me you're seeing somebody?”

“Mom!” Audie exclaimed, horrified. She looked at Max. “I didn't. I mean—I did, but it was
just speculation
—and it was divulged
in
confidence,
” she hissed at her mother.

Max wondered if it was wrong to pray for a meteor to strike the house. Not a big, Texas-size one; just a little speck, enough to rip a hole in the roof and land in the asparagus. “I'm not seeing anyone,” he said hastily, and mostly to his mother. “Lore and I are just friends.”

“Oh!” Principal Gregory made a cringing
oops
face at her daughter. “I didn't know!”

“Well,” Chief Gregory said, giving Max a sly look, “who's to say what the future holds?”

“You
guys.
” Audie dug her fingers into her scalp.
“Stop talking.”

“Sorry!” Chief Gregory threw his hands up, innocent. “I'm just saying it'd be nice for Max to finally be able to go to the prom, don't you think? Every year, off you go with Wall, and every year, there's Max, waving the limo away with the rest of us—”

“Look at the time!” Audie burst in. She grabbed her father with one hand and her mother with the other and dragged them both to their feet. “We have to go.
Now.
Or we'll be late for the thing.” She began to shove them toward the door. “Wonderful to see you, Mrs. Kilgore! Thanks for your hospitality! We'll show ourselves out!
I tried to stop them. I'm SO sorry,
” she whispered to Max on the way into the hall.

The Gregorys did their best to protest, but when Audie wanted her way, she got it. They shouted some more goodbyes and piled out of the house, and only when Max heard the door shut was he able to summon the courage to look at his mother.

Bad idea.

He flinched. He couldn't help it. Aside from the distress plain on her face, her skin looked more sallow and translucent than he'd remembered. And was her hair always that thin? He'd gone only one morning without checking in on her, but the changes in her appearance were obvious. Striking.

She looked, Max realized, undeniably sick.

She cupped her forehead with a shaking hand, her eyes swimming in misery. “That was mortifying, Max. How could you let them barge in like that? You know I hate visitors!”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Why didn't you stop them? Where were you?”

She was really getting worked up. Max put his hands out. “Mom, calm down.”

“No! I will
not
calm—”

She broke off with a gasp. Her white-knuckled hand clutched at her chest, and her eyes squeezed shut.

“Mom, what's wrong? Talk to me!”

“My chest.” She opened her watering eyes and looked at him, pleading. “Get help.”

OUT-OF-BODY EXPERIENCES,
Max had once read, didn't happen only when people encountered brushes with death. They could also occur in times of great trauma, and that's exactly what was happening to him. It was as if he were watching himself from above as the panic set in, experiencing what came next only in fragmented bits and pieces—

—scrambling for a phone, then realizing that all the lines in the house were still dead—

—grabbing the transplant beeper—but no, that only went one way—

—running outside, getting halfway to the Gregorys' house before remembering that they'd left for the evening—

—accosting a random man walking down the sidewalk, ordering him to call 911—

—riding in the ambulance, describing his mother's condition to the paramedics, holding her freezing hand—

—waiting in the emergency room lobby—

—waiting—

—waiting—

“Kilgore?”

Max stirred from the half-catatonic state into which he'd fallen, slumped against the hard plastic chair. “Yes,” he said in a hoarse voice, scrambling to his feet. “That's me.”

The emergency room doctor, a woman with graying hair whom Max half recognized from prior hospital visits, gave him a reassuring smile. “False alarm,” she said, looking at her chart. “Your mother is fine. Well, that is to say, her condition hasn't worsened any. Her heart is still, er . . .”

“Fucked?” Max supplied.

The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile. “To put it bluntly. But it has not suffered any additional trauma.”

Relief surged into Max's body like floodwater, dousing the flames of panic. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “You said it was a false alarm? What does that mean?”

The doctor frowned. “We're not exactly sure what caused her sudden chest pains. These things happen on occasion. Could have been acid reflux, could have been . . .” A puzzled look came to her eyes. “Well, could have been any number of issues. The human body does strange things sometimes. But nothing came up on the scans, as far as I could tell, and any lingering pain has disappeared, your mother has reassured us.”

“She's awake? She's okay?”

“Yes, and asking for you.” She looked at the chart again. “I'd like to keep her overnight, run a couple more tests. And consult with her cardiologist—Dr. Ware, is it? But all in all, I see no reason why she shouldn't be able to go home tomorrow.”

She escorted Max to his mother's room, where Max thanked her and rushed to his mother's side.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

She gave him a weak smile. “Rotten as ever.”

Max sank into the chair beside the bed and simply breathed for a minute.

But slowly, as the events of the previous evening came back to him, guilt crept up his neck. “Mom?” he said meekly. “I'm really sorry for what I said to you last night. I felt so bad after, and I wanted to apologize this morning, but I was ashamed, and—” He looked her in the eye. “You know I didn't mean any of that stuff, right?”

“Of course, hon,” she said, but Max detected a false note in her tone. “We were both angry.”

“Yeah, but—” He took her thin hand into his. “What I said about you being a burden—it's not true. I'm happy to take care of you. Really.”

At this, her shoulders slumped. “I know, hon. You're such a good kid. But maybe . . .” Her gaze drifted out the window; then she shook her head. “Hey, wait a sec. Just because my body decides to have a freak-out doesn't mean you get off easy. What was Principal Gregory talking about? Why did you meet with her yesterday?”

He let out a hollow laugh. “It's nothing,” he insisted, though even he had to admit he didn't sound very convincing. “She's just overreacting.”

As is a mother's wont, she could sense something was up. “Hon? What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I—” A hard, stubborn lump was forming in Max's throat. He couldn't stop it. He had to swallow three times before he could talk. “I've just been having a little trouble at school lately. There's this, uh, bully. He's constantly making these demands and pushing me around, and . . .”

“Oh, Maxster.” Her eyes filled with concern, and Max felt even worse. How could he have yelled at her like that? “Do you need me to call his parents?”

“No. No, I don't think that'll work.”

“Well, did Principal Gregory talk to him? Was he in the meeting too? I can't imagine—”

“Mom, it's not a big deal. I can take care of it. Just wanted to, you know . . .” He gave her a forced smile. “Keep you in the loop.”

She didn't look convinced. “Well . . . just avoid him as much as you can. Give him some space. Sooner or later he'll leave you alone—”

A timid knock came at the door, followed by an even more timid “Excuse me?”

In walked a dark-haired, kind-eyed man wearing a nice suit, shiny shoes, and a rakish fedora. “Sorry to interrupt, but the nurse said I could duck in for a second. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

It took Max a few seconds, but he soon recognized him as the guy he'd stopped on the sidewalk, the one who'd called 911. “Oh, it's you,” he said with a rush of gratitude. “Yeah, she's okay, sir. Thank you so much for—”

“I can thank him myself, Max,” his mom said, sitting up a little more in bed. “Got a bum heart, but my mouth works just fine.”

Dimples appeared in the man's face. “As does your smile.”

For the first time in as long as Max could remember, color came to his mother's cheeks. “Well, thank you,” she said. “And thank you for calling the ambulance. We don't usually do things that melodramatically, but something's wrong with our phones.”

“Oh?” he said. “I happen to work for the phone company. I'd be happy to take a look at your lines, if you'd like.”

She smiled. “And I'd be happy to have you over for dinner, as a thank-you.”

Max's jaw dropped.

“How's six o'clock?” she added.

“Uh, Mom,” Max said, searching for excuses. This felt very strange. “The pep rally's tomorrow at seven. I promised Audie I wouldn't be late.”

“Oh, you won't be late,” she said without looking at him, her eyes still melting into the man's. “Truly, I insist. I'll thaw my finest pan of frozen lasagna.”