It's Only Temporary (3 page)

“Huh,” Skye said, trying to take it all in. “But this not-remembering stuff is just for now, right? It's not forever. He's gonna get all better, right?”

“Well, not
all
better,” Ms. Santina said cautiously. “It remains to be seen how far his recovery will take him.”

“But – but we've done everything the doctors said,” Skye argued.

“Even so,” Ms. Santina said, her voice gentle.

“So does that mean Scott's, like,
retarded
now?” Skye made herself ask the question. “No matter how hard he works at getting better?”

“Not at all,” Ms. Santina said. “But Scott has a lot of
challenges to face. He'll probably be frustrated at times –with other people
and
himself. And he'll be depressed.”

“Like I said, that's kind of the way he was before,” Skye said.

“Well, multiply that by ten,” Ms. Santina told her. “It's going to be tough, Skye.”

“I really think he'd be better off staying here,” Skye repeated, louder this time.

“Let's see how he does during the trial visit home,” Ms. Santina said, glancing at her watch and getting to her feet – which obviously meant their time together was over, Skye realized, kissing about a thousand questions good-bye. “Good luck, Skye,” Ms. Santina said, reaching out to take her hand. “And remember to take care of
yourself
.”

“Sure, okay,” Skye said, shaking hands. “And thanks for helping my brother. I'm sorry if he was ever rude to you or anything. He didn't mean it.”

“You don't have to make excuses for him, Skye,” Ms. Santina said, frowning a little. “I know you two are pretty close, but Scott's on his path now, and you're on yours. And both paths are equally important.”

“Did he say we were close?” Skye asked, genuinely curious – because they hadn't been, not for years.

“He said you guys were like this,” Ms. Santina said, smiling, and she held two fingers together.

“Huh,” Skye said, trying to mask her expression–because she and Scott weren't
“like this”
at all before the accident.

They were
like that
.

“S
o how come you're the one who has to move in with your grandmother in California, when it's Scott who has all the problems?” Skye's friend Hana asked a month later as they walked through the air-conditioned mall. The Albuquerque school year was going to start in less than a week, and Hana was supposed to be hunting for bargains. “I thought he was getting better,” she added, frowning.

“He
is
getting better, I guess,” Skye said, sighing. “He has his ups and downs, though, and lately there have been more downs than ups.”

That was putting it mildly, she thought, remembering her brother's most recent scenes: yelling at the visiting physical therapist, a muscle-bound blond guy in his late twenties who remained stubbornly cheerful even as Scott's curses echoed throughout the house; refusing to read
aloud to Skye as part of his speech therapy, or to practice his keyboarding; nagging their mom for junk food snacks, even though he wasn't getting any exercise and was definitely putting on weight.

His friends had mostly stopped coming by to see him–that was one problem, Skye thought. Well, it was summer, she told herself, and everyone was busy, and Scott's accident was old news by now. He was no longer everyone's pet accident victim; kids had moved on to other things.

But worst of all, Stacie had broken up with Scott – even though they weren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend.
But she'd wanted to make sure he, and everyone, knew it was over before school started. Skye couldn't really blame Stacie for that, even though Stacie had chosen e-mail as the way to let Scott know.

That was pretty brutal.

And then there were Scott's nightmares – though they sometimes came in the middle of the day. Like last week, for example.
“Eee-yahhhh
,” he'd suddenly roared, waking from a nap in front of the TV and throwing his head back as he howled.

Skye had raced into the family room, her heart thudding.

“No, no,
no
,” Scott shouted.
“Nonononono-o-o!”
He hid his face, as if trying to protect it – from an invisible car's tumble through the desert night, Skye guessed.

“You're okay, Scotty,” she yelled, stepping back a little because she was so frightened. “This isn't really happening.”

Only – the accident
was
happening again, obviously. For him, anyway.

Where was her mom? Crying in the laundry room, like that other time?

No, she'd gone to the store, Skye remembered suddenly.
And her father was supposed to have come home early from work today, but there was no sign of him.

(Boy,
that
had caused a fight when Skye's mom got home! And by the time the fight was over, it had been decided that Skye should move to Sierra Madre, California, for the semester.)

Skye had tried to grab Scott's sleeve, and to her horror, he actually took a swing at her. Her own big brother! And suddenly Skye was absolutely furious – at Scott, for trying to hit her, even though he didn't really know he was doing it, and at her mom and dad, for leaving her alone with her crazy brother, and–

“Look out!” Scott had cried, and he crumpled onto the sofa once more, panting. He covered his eyes with both hands and tried to curl up into a ball.

Skye counted to three, afraid to go near him.

Then Scott looked up and saw her for the first time. His now-pudgy face was streaked with tears, and he looked confused. “When is Mom coming home?” he asked.

“Pretty soon, Scotty. Pretty soon,” some stranger inside
her had managed to reply – in the calmest voice anyone ever heard.

“Look at that skirt,” Hana was saying now, nudging Skye in the ribs. “Wake up! What do you think?”

“It's cute,” Skye said, trying unsuccessfully to picture the patchwork denim mini on Hana, who was both taller and rounder than Skye.

“I'm gonna try it on,” Hana said, excited.

“Wow,” Skye said. “Would your mom let you wear something that short, Hana?” she asked. “Even if the principal will?”

“She'll get used to it,” Hana said, grabbing Skye by the hand and dragging her into the store, which was practically shaking with music.

A few minutes later, the two girls were crammed into a dressing room, the flimsy curtain barely shielding them as Hana wrestled herself into the too-tight skirt. “Want me
to get you another size?” Skye asked, carefully not saying “
bigger
,” because Hana liked being the same size as her. It was one of their things.