The Reluctant Journal of Henry K. Larsen (17 page)

I saw Ambrose and Parvana in the foyer. “Are you okay?” Ambrose asked. “What a lousy time to get sick.”

“I feel better, thanks. How were the Provincials?”

“Awesome!” said Parvana. “We came in eighth out of thirty teams!” Then she kissed Ambrose right on the mouth, right in front of me.
Get a room
, I wanted to say.

I left them in their lip-lock and headed upstairs. The moment I got to the second floor, I saw Alberta and Farley leaning against my locker. I thought about turning around, but they’d already spotted me. “What happened, Henry?” Alberta asked as I approached. “We were worried.” She was wearing her zip-up sweater with the deer on the front.

“We tried calling you all weekend,” Farley added.

“Like I told Mr. Jankovich: I was sick. I think it was food poisoning. Undercooked chicken.”

Alberta and Farley shared a look. I could tell they didn’t believe me. “A girl asked after you,” Alberta said.

The vice tightened around my heart.

“She said you used to go to school together,” said
Farley. “She looked disappointed when we said you’d left.”

I didn’t say anything. I just shifted a few items around in my locker.

“She asked for your address,” Farley said.

The vice tightened again. I started to see spots in front of my eyes.

“So I gave it to her,” he continued. “I didn’t know your postal code, but she can look that up.”

“You gave her my address?”

“She said she wanted to send you something.… ”

“You told her where I live?”

Farley blinked. “I hope that’s okay.”

I wanted to shout,
No, it’s not okay. You stupid idiot, it is not okay!
Instead, I took a deep breath. “She must have me confused with someone else. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“But, Henry,” Alberta said, “she knew your name.”

I closed my locker door and walked away.

Much as I wanted to avoid Farley, I couldn’t. We had Math together, just before lunch. I sat far away from him, but when the bell rang, he followed me to my locker. “Henry, I’m sorry I gave that girl your address. I don’t know why it made you so angry, but I’m still sorry. I would never do anything to hurt you. You’re my best friend.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Tomorrow I’m going to bring in all the money we’ve made so far,” he continued.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s enough to buy four tickets, with all the taxes and surcharges and stuff. And we need someone with a credit card to buy them. Maria has one that my parents gave her, but it’s only for emergencies. And you want it to be a surprise for your parents.… So I called my third cousin. He lives near Fraser and 41
^st
. He said he’d order the tickets for us, but I have to bring him the cash first. I’ll take the bus there after school tomorrow. You can come, too, if you want.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t buy the tickets yet.”

“We have to if we want the best seats. I checked online. They’re going fast.”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can go anymore.”

Farley just smiled. “Ha-ha.”

“I’m serious.”

“But you love the GWF! It’s all we’ve been talking about for months.”

I just shrugged.

“C’mon, Henry. If you don’t go, I can’t go. And we have the money. Three hundred bucks!”

“Sorry.”

Farley crossed his arms over his scrawny chest. “I’m bringing in the money anyway and ordering the tickets. You’ll change your mind. I know you will.” Then he walked away, tilting to one side.

That’s when I noticed Troy at his locker. He was flipping through a textbook. I wondered how much he’d overheard.

But he didn’t even glance my way.

In the afternoon of what was turning into the longest day of my life, I had Home Ec with Alberta.

“We’re going to make omelets. The recipe is at your cooking stations,” said Mrs. Bardus.

After Farley, Alberta was next in line for people I did not want to see. But I had no choice. We started cracking eggs.

“So,” Alberta said. “That girl. Was she your old girlfriend or something?” She looked right at me. Well, one eye did.

“Can’t you get that fixed?” I said.

“Get what fixed?”

“Your lazy eye. It’s totally creepy. Like it has a mind of its own.”

For a brief moment,
both
of her eyes met mine. Her nostrils flared.

Then she cracked the last egg over my head and walked out.

1:00 a.m.

Farley said Jodie wants to send me something. What?? A hate letter? Dog poop? A bomb?

We have
got
to get out of here.

4:00 a.m.

Dad just woke me up from a nightmare.
The yellow plastic tube slide one. I was shouting in my sleep
.

I’m beginning to think stupid Karen might be right. The bad feelings are never going to go away.

I couldn’t face school this morning for a gazillion reasons, but Dad insisted on driving me again. I waved to him as I entered the front doors. I waited thirty seconds. Then I walked back out and came home. I watched “The Price Is Right” and “The View” and a rerun of a really old show called “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.”

After that, I walked out of the apartment and took the stairs to the third floor and knocked on Karen’s door.

She looked surprised to see me. She was wearing sweatpants again and clutching a mug of tea. Her skin still looked gray. I could hear “The Dr. Oz Show” on the TV in her living room.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I asked.

“It’s my day off. Not that it’s any of your business.”

She blocked the doorway with her body; she had no intention of inviting me in.

“How did he do it?”

“How did who do what?”

“Your dad.”

“Oh,” she said. “Carbon monoxide poisoning. Left his car running in our garage.”

“Did you find him?”

“No, my mother did.”

“Did you see his body?”

She gave me a hard stare. Then she stepped away from the door and walked into the living room. I took it as my cue to enter.

Karen’s living room is just like ours, except hers is decorated way nicer. Her walls are painted yellow, and it’s bright and cheery.

She parked herself in an overstuffed chair and turned off the TV. I sat on her couch.

“No,” she said, “I didn’t. It was a closed casket.”

“I never saw my brother’s body, either.”

“Don’t you think that was for the best?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think the pictures in my head might be worse than the real thing.”

She nodded. “I had those nightmares, too.”

“Had?”

“Had.”

That one little word filled me with relief. Even though I knew her dad had died at least twenty years ago, which meant her nightmares might have stopped only last year, they had still
stopped
.

“Did you …” A lump lodged itself in my throat. Karen waited. “Did you think it was your fault?”

“God, yes.”

“Why?”

“Millions of reasons. I’d been close to my dad when I was younger, but when I got older I thought he was embarrassing. All of his stale jokes and cheap suits. I hated being seen with him. And the last time I saw him, before his death, we had a fight.… I said some nasty things.”

Neither of us said anything for a moment.

“It took me – it took my family – years to come to terms with the fact that
none of us
was to blame for what my dad did.”

I looked down at my hands.

“You feel guilty about your brother’s death, don’t you?”

I nodded. And suddenly I was crying. Total waterworks.

Karen immediately got up from her chair. She plunked herself beside me on the couch and put her arms around me and held me tight.

For a brief second, I felt horrified. But then I didn’t. I cried and cried and cried, and I’m sure I got snot all over her sweatshirt, but she didn’t care. She just held me, and it was like being held by my mom when I was little and had a boo-boo. And next thing I knew, I told her the whole story of The Other Thing that had happened just four weeks before Jesse took Dad’s rifle to school. I told the story into her sweatshirt, between great big gulping sobs, and I swear I was back there, smelling the pee smell in the slide, hearing the sound of duct tape, listening to Jesse’s screams.

When I was done, she said, “It is not your fault.” She said it fiercely, into my ear. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It took me years of group therapy to finally believe that, Henry, but it doesn’t have to take you years. What your brother did was a terrible thing, a genuine tragedy, but it was
his
decision, no one else’s.”

“I feel so bad for the Marlins, too. For Jodie.”

“Of course you do. But it is
not your fault
.”

She got up, grabbed a box of Kleenex from her mantelpiece, and shoved it into my hands.

“I used to go to this group. Once in a while, I still drop by if I’m having a bad day. It’s for people who’ve lost someone to suicide. I’d like you to come with me sometime.”

I shook my head. “I already have a therapist.”

“And I’m sure your therapist is great. But you can do this, too. This is a group of people who’ve been through it. Nothing you can say about how you’ve been feeling surprises them, ’cause they’ve all felt it, too, in some form or other.”

“But I don’t want to talk. I want to forget.”

She snorted. “You can never forget. Trust me, I drank a lot of booze and took a lot of drugs trying to forget. It’s impossible.”

I blew my nose.

“This will be with you forever. But you’ll learn to live with it.” She handed me another Kleenex.

“That’s the best you can do?
You’ll learn to live with it?
”

She nodded. “Yup. That’s the best I can do.”

10:00 p.m.

This is the story I told Karen.

In February last year, Jesse got his first real job at Abdul’s Pizza Palace in downtown Port Salish. “Palace” was an overstatement; the place was just a hole-in-the-wall. In fact, it had an
actual
hole in the wall, made by a drunk guy’s fist one night when his Hawaiian pizza took too long. There were no tables; it was strictly a take-out and delivery operation.

Jesse loved that job. Sometimes he’d bring home a pizza that someone hadn’t picked up. We’d all tell him how awesome it tasted, and he would actually crack a smile. Abdul was so happy with his work, he increased his shifts and even gave him a fifty-cent-per-hour raise, which made his other two employees jealous because Abdul never gave raises.

Anyway, one night – April 30
^th
to be exact – who comes into the Pizza Palace but Scott Marlin and a few of his friends. And Jesse’s alone, or so they think. And they start teasing him, saying stuff like, “Pizza Face works in a pizza restaurant!” and “Has anyone ever tried to eat your face?” Then they started bugging him for free pizza.

Jesse refused to give them any freebies, which, when you think about it, was pretty brave ’cause it was four against one. Finally Scott marched behind the counter and tried to grab a bunch of slices from one of the warming trays, but Jesse blocked his path. Scott easily shoved him out of the way. That’s when Abdul came upstairs; he’d been in the walk-in freezer, getting more pizza dough. He started shouting that he was going to call the cops, and Scott and his friends took off.

I only found out that part of the story later, from Abdul.

About an hour after that, I showed up. I’d been at the nine o’clock showing of the last Harry Potter movie with a bunch of friends, including Jodie. My mom and dad were out at a dinner party, and they didn’t want me to walk home alone. I told them I’d be fine walking with my friends, but they insisted I meet Jesse at the Pizza Palace so we could walk home together. Looking back, I wonder if it was more for Jesse’s sake than for mine.

Jesse gave
me
free pizza. He paid for it out of his own pocket, carefully putting the right amount in the till. I remember I ate an enormous slice of the Heart-Stopper, which was topped with ten different kinds of meat and cheese.

Just after midnight, we said good night to Abdul and started walking home. I remember being glad it was late because no one would see me with my brother.

It was hard for me to write that.

I have to take a break.

10:30 p.m.

Okay. To get to our house from Abdul’s Pizza Palace took about twenty minutes. But if you cut through the park, it took only ten. Jesse knew my parents wouldn’t want us to go through the park after dark.

“C’mon,” I said. “It’s cold out; I’m freezing; we’re together; what can happen?”

So we cut through the park.

We’d been walking for only a few minutes when Jesse suddenly said, “Run.”

I hadn’t even heard anything. “What –” I started.

“Run!” he whispered again, and that’s when I heard feet pounding along the ground, getting closer. So I ran. Even though I didn’t have any wobblies then, I still wasn’t a good runner. I sprinted as far as the playground, which was right in the middle of the park. Then I had to stop to catch my breath.

I turned around. I saw Jesse, also running toward the playground, and, behind him, four figures giving chase.

They were getting closer. I was scared. So I ran up the steps that led to the top of the yellow plastic tube slide, and I launched myself into it. I pressed my arms and legs
against the sides and slid slowly down to the bottom, where I stayed, hidden.

But there is a hole in the side of the yellow tube slide. It’s been there forever. I used to toss stones out of it when I was little. I pressed my eye against it.

They were pulling something over Jesse’s face. I couldn’t tell what it was. I found out later it was a pillowcase.

Then they knocked him to the ground. They took off his shoes. They took off his jeans.

I have to stop again.

11:00 p.m.

Jesse fought them as hard as he could. But it didn’t matter that he was a huge GWF fan and knew all the Great Dane’s moves; it didn’t matter that he’d been lifting weights in the basement for the past year. He’d been ambushed, and it was four against one.