Living with Jackie Chan (15 page)

“I’m sure she does,” I say lamely.

She shakes her head. “I know. She just has a warped way of showing it sometimes. Your parents seem real nice, though.”

“Yeah,” I say. “They’re OK.”

“At least they came to see you, right?”

“True.”

“But?”

“They’ve got their own issues, that’s all.”

We both lean our heads back and look up at the ceiling.

“What kind of issues?” Stella asks.

“My dad used to drink a lot.”

“Oh. But he stopped?”

“Looks like it. I don’t think he was an alcoholic or anything. But he used to drink a lot on the weekends.”

“What made him stop?”

Me.

“I don’t know.”

“Your parents have been married for a long time, huh?”

“Yup.”

“That’s cool. You’re like, one of the only people I know whose parents are still together.”

“Me, too, actually. I always thought they would end up getting a divorce, but they’re hanging on.”

“Why did you think that?”

“They used to avoid each other like the plague. Today was the first time the three of us have spent more than a few minutes together in years.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Guess I should have left home a long time ago.”

She elbows me. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Well, not totally. But sort of.

Larry comes in with a tray of mugs, and we all take sips of cocoa in silence. Larry leans back on the couch and says, “You know, for the most part, this was one of the best Christmases ever. With the exception of your mom dissing you for that dude. No offense, Stell.”

She rests her head on his shoulder and sighs. “None taken.”

He pats her knee. “Whaddaya say we watch a movie? I’ll make popcorn.”

“Larry, how can you even think about eating after that huge dinner?”

He shrugs. “I think it is physically impossible for me to watch a movie without stuffing my face. No matter how sick I feel later.”

“Well, I’m game,” Stella says.

“As long as it’s not Jackie Chan, I’m in,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“Not everyone shares your love for Jackie.”

“How is that even possible?” he asks seriously. “Never mind. I have the perfect choice just for Stella,” he says, acting all fake-mad at me. He jumps up and runs down the hall to my room, then comes back waving a
Rocky
DVD in his hand.

“Stell-aah!” he cries, shaking it in her face.

“You do know Rocky’s girlfriend’s name is Adrian, right?” I ask Larry.

“I know, I know,” Larry says. “But I just like saying it. Stellllaaaaa,” he cries again, just to prove it.

We all get comfortable and start watching, but after about ten minutes, Stella jumps when her phone vibrates. She reads the message and frowns.

“Uh, sorry guys. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Oh, Stell. You’re not leaving us for another guy, are you?”

“Cute as you are, Larry. Sorry.”

“Say hi to
Britt
for us,” Larry says.

“Don’t say his name like that,” she says.

“Like what?”

Stella looks at me.

“Like
shit,
” I explain.

Larry laughs.

“Shut up,” Stella says.

“They do sound the same,” I try.

“You two are so funny I forgot to laugh.” She gets up to go, then turns back. “Merry Christmas, boys. Wish I could stay.” The funny thing is, the way she looks at us just then, I think she really does.

“Well, that was a little ironic, don’tcha think?” Larry asks when she’s gone.

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm. Stella’s mad at her mom for blowing her off for some guy and . . . there she goes doing the same thing to us!”

“It’s not really the same thing,” I say.

Larry sighs. “Close enough.”

When I wake up later, I’m sweating.

The baby was screaming. In my dream. He was crying in his little plastic bed next to all the other new babies, and the nurses were ignoring him, and all the parents smiling through the glass were too busy admiring their own babies to care. I pounded on the glass to get the nurses’ attention, but they didn’t look up. I kept pounding and pounding. And then I saw her. Ellie. The room had a glass wall on the opposite side, and she was behind it, pounding on the glass just like me. I could tell by the way her mouth was open that she was screaming. “I want my baby!” over and over. Her fists were white crescents against the glass. She was crying. Sobbing. I pounded harder, too.

That’s when she saw me. Recognized me. And screamed, “No!” She shook her head, then pounded on the glass even harder. So hard the glass smashed. Some nurses ran over to her. Someone grabbed her and started pulling her away. I pounded harder on my own glass wall to get them to stop. I pounded and pounded until the glass wall broke on my side, too. I could feel my fist scrape through the shards, ripping the skin open. But they ignored me and took her away.

I woke up and found teeth marks in my hand.

Now, in this room hundreds of miles away from that real place of my dreams, I still hear the screaming.

It is above me. It doesn’t stop like it usually does. I get up and pace the floor. Waiting for someone to soothe him. But he just keeps crying. Why the hell doesn’t someone help him? I pace faster. I cover my ears. But he’s still screaming.

I punch Jackie Chan’s face. I punch every inch of that ridiculous poster until I punch one of the thumbtacks sticking out of the wall and cut my hand. Then I punch harder. I punch it and punch it, getting blood all over that stupid face until Larry comes running in and pulls me backward, wrapping his huge arms around me. He hugs me so hard I can hardly breathe. I am sobbing. Choking. But he holds on and tells me it’s OK. It’s OK. Until finally the screaming stops, and Larry lets go of me. We sit on the floor, leaning against my makeshift bed, panting.

“You can tell me you’re fine a thousand times, Josh. But you’re not. You need help.”

I fall back onto my bed, still shaking.

“I know,” I say.

I know.

Larry grabs a tissue from the box on the bookcase and I press it against my hand to stop the bleeding. “Tell me what happened,” he says.

“You know what happened.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“Maybe I need to hear it from you. Someday, you’re going to have to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the only way to get over it.”

“I can’t,” I say. “I’m not like you. I’m not — good, like you.” I see Ellie again. Pounding on the glass. And her mouth, forming the word
No.

He sighs and puts his strong arm across my back, squeezing my shoulder hard.

“You are in your heart, Josh. I know you are. And I’m going to lift you up. I’m going to lift you out of this.”

A true karate man lifts those who have fallen, no matter how low.
I can imagine him thinking this as he looks at me. That he’s going to be a true karate man and get me out of this mess. But he doesn’t know everything that happened. He doesn’t know what I did. He doesn’t know how low I’ve gone.

I turn away from him. “I just need to be alone,” I say.

“That’s the last thing you need.”

“Please.” I cover my face with my hands.

I feel him hovering nearby. Waiting. Wondering what a true karate man would do.

“Please,” I say again.

He sighs. “I’m here when you’re ready, Josh. I just want you to know that.”

“I know,” I say. “Thanks.”

When I’m sure he’s gone, I pull Stella’s rock out of its box and squeeze it. But I don’t talk to it. I don’t want her to hear what I’m thinking. I just need to feel . . . something. As the rock warms in my hand, my eyes get heavy. Clover climbs up from the foot of the bed and rubs the side of her head against my face, then settles down next to me, purring. I try to go back to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see Ellie. Silently screaming.
No.

If they knew the whole story, they wouldn’t be here.

Not Larry. Not Stella. Not even my parents.

None of them would.

Not even the damn cat.

“If the envelope is big, that’s good news,” Jason tells me as we hurry down the hall after our last class. “If it’s thin, don’t even bother to open it.”

For the past few weeks, everyone at school has been obsessed with college acceptances, even though it’s only March. You can tell who all the early-acceptance people are, because they walk around without a care. Everyone else seems completely stressed, especially the ones who tried for early acceptance and didn’t get it.

“My parents are totally freaking out,” Jason says. “I swear my mom’s going to have a nervous breakdown if I don’t get an acceptance letter soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll get your top choice,” I say.

“Thanks.” He hikes his backpack over his shoulder again. It’s so stuffed with books, it keeps slipping off.

“What about you?” he asks. “Any news?”

“Nah,” I say. I don’t add that I’m starting to freak out just like everyone else. Maybe even more so. But not because I care about
which
school I get into so much as whether or not I get into
any
school.

We don’t talk for the rest of our walk to the library, where we find our usual table and get to work. This is our basic routine, now that Jason finally accepted the fact that he is never going to be included in the after-school meet-ups with the in-crowd. Sometimes we hang out on the weekend and catch a movie or something. Stella is still seeing
Britt,
and therefore not allowed to be seen with me outside of karate practice. Larry and Arielle spend every spare moment together, and while they always make an effort to invite me to go out with them and their friends, I know they’re just being nice. Who wants to hang out with a dopey seventeen-year-old on a Saturday night? I know I wouldn’t.

Besides, even though Jason isn’t the kind of person I would’ve been friends with back home, this isn’t home. And I’m not that guy anymore.

I spend about a half hour rereading the same paragraph before I decide to call it quits. Stella and I are testing for our purple belts tonight, and I’m really worried about passing. The test requires us to demonstrate bow katas, which are the hardest for me. Stella’s bow is smaller than mine, and we just seem more out of sync when we practice them together. Stella says the bow makes her feel like a warrior. She’s amazing at handling hers. But mine just feels like this thing I’m wielding around awkwardly. Larry, of course, says we’re both naturals.

But the only reason we do so well compared to most of the others is because we come to practice all the time. Most people can make it to class only once a week, so it takes them way longer to memorize and master the katas to earn each belt. Sometimes I worry that we’re moving up a little too fast, but it makes Larry happy. Stella seems as crazed about us moving up as he is. It would suck if she passed and I didn’t. I would like to say this is just because I’m competitive, but I know there’s a lot more to it than that. If Stella moved ahead, we wouldn’t stand next to each other in the same row anymore. And I’ve come to really like being next to her, even if that’s as close as we’ll ever get. Maybe
because
that’s as close as we’ll ever get. It’s safer that way.

I say good-bye to Jason, who offers to come cheer me on at the test, but I tell him it would only make me more nervous.

At practice, I start stretching while Larry and I wait for everyone else to arrive. Stella comes in late as usual.
Britt
brings her to practice now. I don’t know why, but I assume it’s so he can spend more time with her. I’ve noticed she brings her karate equipment bag to school with her. This means she must go off with him after school and then he takes her straight to practice. God forbid she spend any time alone with her pre-Britt friends. Or me. I just hope this is her choice as much as it is his. Because otherwise? I would be starting to worry.

“Hey,” Stella says, coming up next to me. I can tell she’s been crying again. She’s always coming to practice with red eyes.

“Hey,” I say. “What happened this time?”

“This time?” She’s annoyed. She’s always annoyed when I ask her that.