Night Sky (23 page)

I rummage around for the crackers and peanut
butter.

“And that it didn’t go well…” Her voice
sounds too smooth, too even. She doesn’t want me to know how she
feels about Dad and I not getting along.

“Not really, no.”

“Is it because you’re trying to stick up for
me when you’re around him?” I hear her weight shift.

I’ve found my snack, but pretend to keep
searching so I don’t have to look at her.

“Because no matter what your father did,
he’s still your father. I think you should make an effort to keep
him in your life.”

“Why? So I can end up just
like him?”
I’m sure that was too
harsh.

“No, of course not.” Her voice is clipped,
impatient.

I turn to face her.

“You have an understanding of the people
around you that your father just doesn’t have. Well, he has it, but
it doesn’t come with the feeling and compassion that yours
does.”

“You’re making me feel like a girl,
Mom.”

She laughs. And I can breathe again.

“No. I think your broken
phone and the hole in my wall are proof enough of your
manliness
.” She
chuckles.

“What are you going to do?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” She pushes
herself away from the counter. “But right now, I’m going to go lay
by the pool and try to think about something else.”

“Good luck with that.” That method has left
me high and dry with my head still spinning.

TWENTY-FIVE

The last day of school for seniors is
earlier than the underclassmen, and most of us have checked out
already—both logistically and mentally. Classes are either final
exams, or just hanging out listening to music and writing in one
another’s yearbooks. I’ve mastered a pretty good game face since I
talked to Sarah a few days ago, and I’m maintaining it pretty
well.

I hit third period and
there’s still no sign of Sarah. I should probably call her. She
shouldn’t be missing out on her last days of high school, just
because she feels awkward around me.
Is it
so horrible that I liked her?
We should at
least be able to talk about it—if we’re still friends.

The day passes in a haze. By the end of the
school day, my brave, happy face is gone. I’m thankful swimming is
over, because it’s the first day in a long time that I know even
being in the water won’t make me feel better.

I walk into Mr. Carlson’s classroom.

“Jameson, good to see you.” Mr. Carlson says
from behind his computer.

“I finished my final government paper and
wanted to hand it in.” I weave through the desks to get to his
chair.

“Oh, great.” He takes it from me, and stares
at my face. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell me
what’s going on?”

“You want a list?” I chuckle, and it hurts
my chest.

“Yeah, I want a list.”

I sit and stare at him for a moment. The
room is quiet. The kind of quiet you can only have when there’s a
lot hanging in the air.

“Well, my parents split, but I think you
know that already.”

He nods.

“That’s still a mess. And Sky…my…”

“Oh, yes.” He smiles. “The gorgeous one. She
came to a meet a while ago, right?”

Knives slice through my chest. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“She grew up in a small town in Alaska as
part of a clan, a native corporation.”

He nods again.

“She…uh…”
I just need to get it out.
“She has a daughter that she didn’t tell me
about.”

“That’s big.” I’m sure he’s trying to play
it cool, but I can see a look of surprise cross his face.

“That’s not all.”
Can I even continue this?
Saying it out loud isn’t helping, it isn’t clearing anything
up. It’s just bringing it all to the surface again, like dragging
my heart over sandpaper.

He sits back in his chair and continues to
watch me.

“There’s apparently an
issue over whether or not her aunt will be allowed to raise the
child. Her aunt wants to, and I think Sky wants to grant her aunt
custody, but we never finished our discussion. We both yelled and I
ended up breaking my phone. Her daughter’s also the chief’s son’s
kid, and he didn’t get her pregnant in the nicest way,
either.”
What a lame way to say she was
raped—raped and put in this horrible situation.

“I’m guessing they’ll want her to stay
there. Maybe have her marry the father to keep the baby in the
village?” Mr. Carlson asks, leaning over his desk.

What?
“I…I don’t know.” His words hit me hard.
Is that even a possibility?

“I know that some clans
are closer knit than others, and in order to preserve their
heritage, most will do whatever it takes to keep a member in the
village and part of the clan, especially a direct descendant of the
chief.” His voice trails off, probably reading my reaction. “I
mean, when it’s okay with everyone involved…”
Now, he’s backpedaling.

“I have to go.” I feel
helpless, angry, frustrated.
If she shared
any of this with me, maybe I could have helped…maybe. Oh wait, now
I get it. I’d just end up making things worse, right? How can you
make amends by bringing your new boyfriend into the mix? It’s
simple, you can’t.

I jump up and head for the
door.
Will I even know what happens to
her? Or will she just disappear—gliding out of my life the same way
she glided in?

“Jameson!” Mr. Carlson calls behind me.
“Come back any time you need to talk, okay?”

I wave as I step out of
his classroom and head to my locker.
Will
Sky really marry Gunnar? And Gunnar might actually want custody of
the kid? The whole thing’s such a mess. Shouldn’t her brother be
stepping up or something? Wait a minute. Didn’t Sky say something
about being disappointed when her brother didn’t stand up for her?
And Gunnar doesn’t deserve that child, and now he might want to
keep it? Would Sky even attempt to be with Gunnar after what he did
to her? Would she do it for the sake of her daughter in order to
keep the baby as part of the clan’s shared heritage? The whole
thing seems crazy.

The puzzle pieces are starting to fall
together, but the end result doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it’s a
reality I’m just not ready to accept.

I look up and see Sarah at
the end of the hallway, her back against the wall, looking down.
Eric is standing over her, his hand resting on the locker above her
head.
Perfect, I’ve interrupted a nice,
intimate moment between the two of them.

Suddenly, Eric’s fist
slams into the locker above Sarah’s head, and she winces, crouching
down.
What the hell?

“Eric, please…don’t…” Her voice comes out in
a whimper as she wraps her arms protectively around her head.

I drop my books and sprint
down the hallway, tackling Eric to the floor. He’s broader than me,
but I’m faster allowing me to get a few hits in. Our arms are
around one another. I know I’m going to get hit a few times, but I
don’t care. I welcome it. There’s yelling and screaming in the
background, but it all blurs together. I’m going to hurt Eric
as
much
as I
can,
while
I can.
Then someone is holding my arms, and I’m not strong enough to break
free as I’m pulled off of him.

Matt has one of my arms, and Mr. Carlson has
the other. The Principal and the wrestling coach have Eric. Words
are spoken, but I don’t pay attention. My ears are thundering as
the blood rushes to my head. I can’t catch my breath. I have no
idea what’s going on. I finally relax, and they let me go. I pause
for about two seconds before taking one last swing at Eric. I
connect with his nose in a satisfying crunch that sends another
shot of pain up my arm.

Immediately, Matt pulls me back as the
principal tries to guide Eric further down the hall away from
me.

“What happened?” Mr. Carlson asks, his voice
gruff.

“He threatened Sarah.” Matt is still
restraining my arms. When I spit to clear my mouth, blood spurts
everywhere.

“Is that true?” the principal asks, looking
at Sarah.

I stare at her. Her eyes go from me to Eric
then back to me. “Yes, that’s right.”

The principal point his finger at me,
saying, “This does not get you off the hook, Jameson.”

“I don’t give a
shit.”
What’s gotten into me?

“Very well.” He looks down the hall. “You.”
He points at Eric. “My office, now.”

The principal looks back at me. “I’m calling
your mom. You’re suspended for three days and I’ll speak with the
vice principal to see if we’re going to allow you to walk at
graduation.”

“Understood.”
After what I’ve been dealing with, nothing the
school can do to me even matters.

“I want you off school grounds immediately,”
he says, looking over his shoulder as he turns the corner,
following Eric to his office.

“Yes, sir.” I salute, walk down the hall in
the opposite direction from Eric, pick up my books and head for the
door.

“Jameson!” Mr. Carlson shouts.

“I’m done.” I don’t look back. My hand
hurts, my face hurts, and I still didn’t fix anything.

“Jameson!” Matt jogs up to me. “What
happened, man?”

“He was threatening Sarah.” I keep
walking.

“Yeah, but…I’ve never seen you like that
before.”

“Me, either.” I stop at my car. “See ya,
Matt.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Matt waves as I pull out of
the parking lot and head home.

As I’m driving, my phone
rings. I keep using my shirt to wipe my face and now it’s covered
in blood. Mom’s going to have a fit. I look at my caller ID—it’s
Mom.
Oh, perfect.
I drop the phone in the passenger seat without
answering.
I’ll deal with that in a
minute.

As soon as the phone stops
ringing, it starts again.
It’s Mom again.
The principal must have dialed fast.

I pick up the phone. “I know I’m in trouble.
I know I’m stupid. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Jay?” I can hear that Mom is crying. “Your
dad’s in the hospital.”

TWENTY-SIX

I learn a few things while
talking to Mom on my frantic drive to the hospital, only one of
which I remember. Dad had a heart attack. When I pull up to the
hospital, I check my reflection. My face and shirt are covered in
blood. I rummage around in my bag and find my gym shirt. Not the
cleanest, but smelly is better than bloody. I wipe my face off
again, and slide it on. I catch my reflection in the rearview
mirror. My eye is already starting to swell…
oh well.
I grab my phone and keys
and run into the building. The antiseptic hospital smell overpowers
my sweaty shirt, easy.

I jog to the receptionist. “Luke Clares,
please.”

I take his room number and
start running down the hall. More than one person looks at me like
I’m crazy. I must still have blood on my face. When I come to Dad’s
room, I stop.
Am I allowed to just walk
in? Is he okay?
I can’t imagine my dad in
a hospital bed. I can’t imagine it…I don’t
want
to imagine it…

“Jameson.” Mom puts her arm around me from
behind, her hand on the door. “Ready to go in?”

“Uh…”

She opens the door and we
step inside. Dad is sitting up watching TV.
Okay, not so bad.
There’s one small
window in the room, but the shades are drawn against the bright
sun. Dad is hooked up to all sorts of monitors, which throws me.
But he looks like he’s okay.

“Hey, son.” He smiles.

“Hey.”

“What happened to your face?” he asks,
setting down his cup of water to stare at me. Mom leans forward and
gasps.

“You’re in a hospital gown and we’re worried
about my face?” I try to laugh.

Mom looks up and me and lets out a sigh.
“Jameson.” Her voice is thick with disapproval.

“Eric was standing over
Sarah, he punched his fist into the locker above her, and she
looked scared.”
Dad will
understand.
I keep eye contact with
him.

“So, you…” Mom prompts.

“Jumped on him,” I say, with a shrug.

Mom slumps, but Dad
smiles. I smile back until I remember that I’m mad at him.
Wait a minute. Mom and Dad are in the same room.
It’s just the three of us. No one’s yelling for a change, and it
feels really good.

“I’ll be out of here in a day or two.” Dad’s
voice is gruff. He sounds like he doesn’t understand why he can’t
just walk out of here now.

“So, you’re going to be
okay?” I can’t believe I’m asking these words. And they mean
something. Not okay as in feelings, but okay, as in alive. I can’t
believe I’m standing here talking to him in a hospital room.
I wish
one
thing in my life felt normal.

“I’ll be okay.” He nods.

“So, what about this fight?” Mom sits,
crosses her legs and purses her lips.

“I’m suspended for three days and they’re
going to tell me tomorrow or the next day if I can walk at
graduation or not.” And once again, saying these things out loud
end up making me feel worse instead of better.