Hooked (Harlequin Teen) (27 page)

Chapter 50
Ryan

MOM GUIDED FRED
AND TREVOR TO
their father’s recovery room, leaving me alone with
half the Gila Indian Reservation in the Phoenix General Hospital waiting room.
As soon as the heavy door shut behind them, the waiting room grew silent.
Someone had turned off the television. Even the two babies had stopped crying in
their mothers’ laps.

My throat turned dry almost immediately as I turned to face
them. I could feel every black-eyed gaze sweeping over every inch of me. They
probably didn’t think very much of me, especially after last Saturday night, and
who could blame them?

I thought about walking to the safety of the cafeteria,
making an excuse about needing another soda, another bag of potato
chips—anything! Instead, I turned around and walked straight into the middle of
the waiting room and found an empty chair. It felt like walking into the middle
of a shooting range without a vest.

But before I sat down, Sam Tracy met me at the chair.

“Hey. Dude,” he said gruffly. He peered down his nose at me.
Jeez, the guy was scary-looking, especially with his low-slung jeans and barrel
chest as wide as a flat-screen TV.

My forehead began to pound. “Hey,” I said, wondering if I
needed to ready myself for a punch to the gut. Or worse. Sam was flanked on one
side by Peter. On the other, Kelly and Yolanda. I stuffed my clenched hands in
my front pockets, expecting the worst.

But Sam’s tone softened. “I want to thank you for what you
did for Mr. Oday.”

My chin pulled back. “Um. You do?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “That was pretty cool.”

I swallowed, speechless. So not what I expected.

The people crowded behind him began to nod and smile
silently in my direction before returning to their seats and the cooler in the
corner of the room. Someone reached up and turned the television back on.

“We heard about what you did. Everybody did,” Peter added.
“Kelly’s cousin said you saved Mr. Oday’s life.”

I certainly wasn’t going to take credit for anything. It
didn’t seem right. Instead of saying anything, I just shrugged my shoulders, my
eyes darting between them. It was like they had more to share.

Then Sam extended his beefy hand. “Thanks, man.”

For a moment, I looked at Sam’s hand. I clasped it with
mine. It felt good. “No problem.”

“Sorry about throwing you across the parking lot the other
night,” he added.

I smirked at him. “Sorry about the punch to your jaw.”

“What punch?” Sam’s eyes widened with mock innocence. He
chuckled. “Seriously, you clocked me good. Surprised me, even.” He rubbed his
cheek, the tiniest glint of respect in his eyes.

Then Peter extended his hand. I shook his, too. Until today,
apart from the fight with Sam, I’d probably never said more than two words to
either of them.

Too soon, they turned around and left me with Yolanda and
Kelly. From the pinched looks on their faces, I gathered we wouldn’t be shaking
hands and making up anytime soon.

Kelly spoke. “First thing you should know is this—Fred is
like a sister to us.”

“A little sister,” Yolanda added, nodding.

“We’re grateful for what you did, Ryan, but we’re still mad
at you. You broke her heart, you know.”

“Mean fuck,” Yolanda said underneath her breath.

Kelly’s eyes rolled. “Watch your language, Yo.”

“I deserved that,” I said.

“Damn right you do,” Yolanda said to me.

Kelly sighed and rolled her eyes at Yolanda. She lowered her
voice so that no one except me would hear. Then her eyes locked onto mine.
“Anyway, we’re watching you. And if you hurt her again, we
will
hurt you.” Her eyes
widened. “Clear?” Then she smiled sweetly, the dimple in her cheek belying her
threat.

“Totally.” Not a single part of me doubted these girls. In
truth, I probably feared them more than a hundred Sam Tracys. And I had no
intention of ever hurting Fred Oday again.

But I wasn’t certain I had any chances left with her. I
wasn’t sure I deserved her either.

Chapter 51
Fred

“I CAN TAKE
her home,” Ryan said, his gaze bouncing between me and my brother with a
new surge of energy. “I don’t mind.”

“
I
mind.” Trevor’s eyes narrowed at
Ryan. “I’ll take her on my
bike,
” he said.

From the nervous flicker in Ryan’s eyes, the double meaning was
not lost on him.

Ryan and Trevor stood chest to chest in the hospital waiting
room. All of a sudden, the room lacked oxygen.

“Trevor,” I said, pulling back on his elbow. “Not now. It’s
been a long day. Everyone’s tired.”

Trevor didn’t brush away my hand, but he still ignored me.

“You’re the dude from the freeway,” Trevor said. It wasn’t a
question. “You and your genius buddy tried to run me off the road.”

Ryan’s jaw hardened, but he nodded, surprising me a little.
“Yeah. That was me.”

“I recognized you earlier. Just couldn’t find the words at the
time.”

“Whatever your words, I’m sure I deserve them,” Ryan said, but
he didn’t back away. If anything, his body held steady, as if he was expecting
punishment.

“Damn right.”

“I’m really sorry,” Ryan added. “It was stupid. I hope you can
give me a second chance.”

“Trevor,” I blurted, feeling my cheeks flush. I looked around
the room. Fortunately, it was mostly empty. The evening news blared on a
television set that no one was watching. “Please,” I hissed at my brother. After
everything Ryan’s mom had done for Dad, I felt bad that my brother had chosen
this moment to make a scene. “Can’t we hash this out some other time?”

But Ryan turned to me. “No, Fred. Your brother is right. I
deserve anything that he’s got to say. Now’s as good a time as any.”

Trevor’s nostrils flared. “I just wanted you to know that I
recognized you. I’d recognize you anywhere. I’d recognize your crazy friend,
too.”

Ryan nodded. I held my breath. “I should have stopped Seth and
I didn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what we did. Even though I wasn’t
driving, I’m just as guilty.”

Trevor’s expression softened a fraction. “Look, I’m grateful
for what your mom did for us, Berenger. But I’m still not happy with you.”

“I wouldn’t be either.”

“I’m not sure I want you hanging around my sister.”

“Trevor!” I blurted, more heat rushing up my neck.

Once again, Trevor ignored me. “And I’m still taking her
home.”

Ryan looked from me to my brother again. I didn’t know what to
say. It was like my brain froze, along with my mouth, from exhaustion and
frustration. From surviving the longest day of my life. From being grateful for
such a wonderful brother and at the same time wanting to scream at him for
treating me like a child.

Finally, Ryan exhaled and said, “Okay,” and for that I was
relieved.

* * *

When Trevor drove me home on the back of his motorcycle,
the sky was moonless and still again. The air felt soft and welcoming after
sitting inside the sterile waiting room all day.

I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my heavy
eyelids as we raced down the freeway and back toward the Rez. It felt like weeks
had passed since Dad’s heart attack, instead of twenty-four hours. Maybe that’s
why breathing had become difficult. It was as if time had fast-forwarded and I
was struggling to catch up.

Mom had stayed at the hospital, and Trevor and I had promised
to return the next morning.

As I climbed off the back of Trevor’s motorcycle in front of
the trailer, my legs felt like tree trunks, every muscle weighted by a list of
things I needed to do:

Feed the dogs.

Clean the house.

Make something to eat.

Call the restaurant and the golf course
and tell them that Mom and Dad won’t be at work for a while.

Call the high school.

Call Coach Lannon.

Calling the coach was the thing I dreaded most, only because of
what I needed to tell him.

I fingered Ryan’s cell phone, just to make sure it was still
safely tucked inside my pocket. I would have hated to lose it, especially after
he’d insisted that I keep it, at least until our phone got reconnected. “I just
charged it, so it’ll be good for a while,” he’d told me. “Use it whenever you
need to.”

I smiled, but then the warm feeling faded when I remembered he
was leaving for San Francisco. How could his parents let him leave? Dad barely
liked that I left the house to attend Lone Butte High School. I couldn’t imagine
that parents like the Berengers would let their son leave for another state.
They loved him too much. Even I could see that.

Ryan had asked me to call him later, if it wasn’t too late.
“Just press 1 on the speed dial,” he’d told me. “That’s my home number.”

With my eyes half-closed, I stumbled onto the front step with
Trevor right behind me. I flipped on the light switch just inside the front
door.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” My eyes burned from the bright light.

“Jeez...” Trevor mumbled.

Someone had already been to the house. The trailer had been
cleaned, top to bottom. Chairs that had been knocked over by the paramedics had
all been straightened. All blankets, folded. The bookcases were shiny and
dusted. Even the rugs had been vacuumed. The sharp, ammonia-like medicinal smell
was gone, replaced by something lemony. The windows were all open, and a sweet
desert breeze wafted through the house. Everything felt almost, well,
normal.

Or like normal had a chance inside our trailer.

“Check this out,” Trevor said, stepping around me.

A platter of cheeses and fresh fruits covered in plastic,
leftovers from the impromptu hospital-waiting-room picnic, sat on the kitchen
counter next to a clear juice glass overflowing with yellow wildflowers, round
silky petals and green skinny stems. A handwritten note balanced against it. It
said:

Come find me if you need anything. You know where I’ll be.

“Who did all this?” I said, my eyes sweeping across the front
room and the kitchen. No one had ever cleaned our trailer before, no one except
us. I wasn’t sure if it had ever looked so tidy. Even the picture frames and
family photos on the wall had all been dusted and straightened where before
there had always been one or two that hung crookedly.

“Doesn’t say,” Trevor said. He lifted something small from the
kitchen counter. “It was folded inside the note.” He turned to show me. It
twirled between his thumb and forefinger.

A feather, white and as delicate as silk.

Trevor and I stared at each and grinned tired smiles. “George
Trueblood,” we said together.

Chapter 52
Ryan

I LAY IN BED IN
THE
dark, my legs crossed at the ankles. I was still dressed, the
house phone resting on the pillow next to me. I didn’t know how long I’d been
without sleep—two days? Three? Despite the sleepless nights, my head buzzed like
an airplane during takeoff.

I kept playing the day over in my mind. It was as if someone
else had pulled the strings, making my arms and legs move. I wanted to talk
about it, which was crazy weird for me because I wasn’t like that. I never
talked about my feelings. Until recently, I wasn’t sure I had any. Normally, I
held everything inside like a deep breath. But the day pressed against my chest,
begging for release. Unfortunately, the only person who mattered barely knew how
to use my cell phone.

“Ryan?” Mom knocked on my door. “Mind if I come in?”

I rubbed the burn in my eyes with the back of my hands.
“Sure, Mom.” My voice was raspy from exhaustion.

Mom opened the door, just a crack at first and then wider.
The glow from the hallway dome light shone over the bottom half of my bed.
Quietly, she approached the edge of my bed and sat on the right side, adjusting
the belt on her robe. “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head.

Mom placed a cool hand on my forehead. With her fingertips,
she swept my bangs to the side. It felt so good.

“I wanted to talk to you...” she started in her mom voice,
not so different from her Doctor Berenger hospital voice.

My body tensed, and her hand snapped back. As usual, I
wondered what I’d done wrong.

“Easy, Ryan.”

I said nothing.

“I just want to talk.”

But then she surprised me. Her voice lost some of its edge.
“I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.” She paused, unable to hide a small
crack in her voice. “How very proud your father and I are of you today.”

My breathing stopped. “What?”

“You heard me.” There was the hint of something else in her
voice. Pride?

“But I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who saved Mr.
Oday’s life. Remember?”

Mom chuckled. “No. That’s where you’re very wrong. I
wouldn’t have had anyone to save if you hadn’t done CPR.” She paused. “When did
my baby boy grow up? How did I miss it?”

“Mom. Stop. Please.” My cheeks flushed.

Her voice cracked again, and in the dim light, I could see
that her face was shiny with tears. She didn’t bother to hide them. Totally
unlike her.

“Really, Mom.” My feet began to cross and uncross at the
ankles. “It was nothing.”

“It was certainly something,” she insisted. Then she began
to stroke my forehead again with her fingertips, and I closed my eyes. “Who
knows? Maybe you’ll be a doctor someday.”

Instead of tensing up like I normally did whenever they
tried to predict my future, I just said, “Maybe.” Seriously, it had felt good
helping someone else for a change.

“I do wish you’d reconsider staying with your uncle, though.
I’ll miss you terribly. We all will.”

My throat thickened. She’d never said that before either. “I
don’t know, Mom. I think it might be a good thing. All I ever seem to do is get
on your nerves.”

“Not true.”

“So true.”

Instead of arguing, she bent down and kissed my forehead.
“You need sleep. We all do. We’ll talk more in the morning. But promise me
you’ll reconsider?”

I couldn’t promise.

Sighing, Mom lifted from the bed. She shuffled to the door
in her slippers. Then she turned one last time and looked at me over her
shoulder in the dim glow of the hallway light. I saw the whites of her teeth.
She was smiling.

I smiled back.

Her voice cracked. “I love you, Ryan.” Then, very quietly,
she shut the door.

“I love you, too, Mom,” I said to the closed door, but loud
enough that I was certain she could hear me. I think my eyes finally shut about
the time Mom’s last footstep reached the end of the hallway.

But I was pretty sure that I fell asleep happy, and maybe
even a little proud. And it felt good.