The Hurt Patrol (13 page)

Beau looked at her quickly. “Did you feel like you were broken?”

“Uh,
yeah.
Now I can fit in the world without everyone acting like I'm a freak, or a baby. And I can wear big-ass high heels—finally!”

“I guess . . .”

“Oh, Beau, you don't understand! You're just normal! Soon I can reach stuff! And my mom is so proud of me. Plus my dad said he could hardly wait to walk his ‘big' girl down the aisle. He, like,
cried
when he said it.” Bonnie nodded, her eyes wide to show Beau that it was awesome.

“Yeah, but is it worth it? Just so you feel like you fit in?” Beau thought all the elaborate beeping colorful equipment was unexpectedly cool, but all the pain and suffering? “You're great already.”

Both Pete and Bonnie looked at him quizzically. “Yeah! If you can! God, Beau, if you get born wrong, you want to get it fixed.”

Beau looked at Jewels. She looked back brightly and shrugged.
Whatevs . . . they're Bonnie's legs
.

As they were leaving the hospital grounds, they puzzled over it. They walked slowly.

“What do you think?” Beau wanted to see if he was the only one with doubts. It seemed awful.

“I think that people should do whatever makes them like themselves, Beau. Like, if you hate your body, then fix it if it makes you feel better. We're lucky. Till just like a few years ago nobody could do anything about themselves, and now they have tons of options, like nose jobs. Not to mention you said you think people should get sex changes if they want!”

“That doesn't seem like the same thing at all.”

“Why?”

“That doesn't seem as radical.”

“Beau, too funny—seriously?” Jewels chortled, her eyes laughing.

“Yeah . . . I guess that does sound weird. But I have a suggestion for Bonnie's family.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. She could just be the way she is, and everyone could get a grip.”

“Maybe if Bonnie was more laid-back or something, she wouldn't have been so obsessed, and it
would
have been fine, but I don't think she would ever just have let it go. You know her pretty well, Beau, and I've known her all my life. She's not like that. And in my opinion, if it's going to wreck your world, you should deal. You're the only one who has to live with it. Why sit around stressing because something bugs you, if it's something you could change?”

“Yeah.” Beau was unconvinced.

They walked in silence for a while. It just seemed so unnatural . . . not to mention agonizing.

“I want to throw a pool party.” Jewels changed the subject abruptly. She did that sometimes, just switched up with no warning.

“Okay.” Beau shrugged. That would be about the millionth for the year.

“I'm stoked. I'll get a new bathing suit too. I
need
one.... I don't know if you've noticed.”

Beau grinned at her. Oh,
that's
what this was about. “Yes. I actually have noticed.”

“Good! I'm glad.” Jewels looked down at her chest. “34Bs already, dude.”

“Really good . . . Yep!” Beau had no clue . . . except it gave him a distant sensation of disquiet.

“Yep. And they're only going to get bigger! I can tell.”

“Cool.”

“Plus, I'm getting the growth spurt. I can feel my legs growing.”

That
Beau could relate to. “I know! Same here!” He, too, had been growing taller by the week. He'd be six one easy, he figured, maybe taller. He smiled at himself. He sounded just like Bonnie.

“What?” Jewels smiled, like she liked the self-deprecating look on his face.

“I'm just laughing at myself,” he said, and took her hand, “because I'm a clown.”

Jewels smiled at that. It was obvious she disagreed with Beau. He was so not a clown! He was hot. Hot, hawt,
hawt!

Though he didn't know it yet. But he would. She had plans.

While this was happening, Beau's mom, Gina, also had plans—to visit her friend, Matt. She was going to fly out to the West Coast for a weekend, just to “say hi.” And that was a major problem for Beau when he found out. Nobody was going to be flying anywhere saying hi if he had anything to do with it!

Reflecting, he'd decided he was just going to be calm, rational, and have a dialogue with her. He would talk her out of it. This was a deliberate choice she was making, and she really needed to know there would be repercussions to her actions.

But he wasn't going to attack her in a hostile way. He was calmly going to let her know he still loved her, same as always. It was just that she couldn't just run around doing whatever struck her fancy. He was a lot more mature than the little brat he used to be, and they could talk it out like adults now, without him yelling, and he would explain to her what she was doing wrong, and then she would see reason.

Which is exactly how it
didn't
go. She flatly refused to see reason.

It started out pretty well. She'd made dinner, and they were eating it in the living room, like they did a lot these days. It was weird; at his dad's, they still ate at the table, and he had to wash up immediately, whereas at his mom's, they ate in front of the TV, especially when he wanted to watch something. The only thing was that he wasn't allowed to play video games while they were eating. And as far as washing up, she said she didn't care when as long as he took care of it before she had to cook again.

Even then a lot of the time he'd wake up late at night, and she would have already washed all the dishes and would be banging away on the computer, muttering and laughing under her breath. “Talking” to someone on Facebook or elsewhere, awake for hours.

So anyway, that particular night they watched TED Talks and other things, and after dinner they went out to sit under the very new moon and think aloud about what they had just heard. It was a good night. Nothing special, just chill, just the two of them.

The next morning he was awakened at dawn, as usual, by her humming and coffee making and computer racket, all her early morning monkeyshines, which made him cranky, even though he did manage to get back to sleep for several hours. When he woke up again, he was still peevish. She certainly had a lot of other interests these days, for a
mom
.

“Who are you babbling to, all night and day?” he griped/ asked when he finally staggered in. He stood with his arms folded, crabby and squinty-eyed, as usual when he first got up. Beau = not morning person. Not even late morning.

Gina looked at him skeptically. She knew he knew perfectly well who she was talking to.

“Have some coffee,” she said instead.

Which he did. He poured some and trailed, mug steaming, into the living room. He stood looking out at the lux summer foliage. Gina went back to typing. And smiling.

“Where does he even live?” Beau finally couldn't resist asking, but as snarkily as possible.

“Seattle,” Gina replied, her eyes on the screen.

Beau stood and thought crappy thoughts about Seattle. Bunch of crazy nut-jobs out there.

“Wait—isn't it like earlier there? Why is he even up?”

“It is—two hours earlier. He's up still because he's a writer. They keep weird hours. He hasn't been to bed yet.”

“Oh, awesome! A
writer!
That's just
great,
Mom!” Beau's eyes were gleaming with a maniacal snarkthusiasm. “What's he written that I've never read or heard of?”

Gina looked over and cackled. “You are so droll,” she told him fondly, and meant it. Her amused expression made Beau feel better. But still pissed.

“Seriously, Mom! Does he even make any money, or is he just one of those ‘writer' writers?” Beau pinched his voice up nasally and flapped his hands around: “Oh, hi; you've never seen my name on ANYTHING, but I'm a huge-ass big shot!' ”

Gina snorted again, and shook her head.

“He writes TV shows. So he stays up and sleeps in, or vice versa, or whatever. And he writes for the Seattle area, most of which is not national, though it is seen in British Columbia, so weirdly, it's international, but only in the North-west. So yes, I imagine you probably haven't heard of him.”

“Well, what do you guys even talk about?”

“Oh, you know, the olden days, high school. We were just remembering how much fun it was when we did some community theater, before you were born, a
long
time ago. I was Maggie the Cat. . . . He wasn't Brick.” She smiled again, in long-lost dream time, and then shrugged. “But he was one of the cast members. We've always hit it off.”

“Oh! Gross! I bet you did, Mom! Thanks for sharing!”

“But then he moved away. Then years later, Facebook.” His mom smiled. She looked distant, and pretty. “You know, you just start yapping on Facebook and get reacquainted, and remember why you were friends, once upon a time . . .” Gina giggled. “I like to Facebook him. It's fun. He's pretty funny too.”

Which made Beau really pissed off, for some reason. He,
Beau,
was the funny guy.

So it didn't go well, the talking her out of her ridiculousness. He planned to try again.

One side effect that he noticed from all the home-life brouhaha was that Barb and David, Jewels's parents, were super kind to him, like he'd escaped from North Korea or something. They spoke to him gently, like they would a rescue dog, and invited him along to family frolics.

One of their frolics involved attending church on Sunday. This was a suggestion that Beau accepted with delight. Going to church would not affect his dad at all, but his mom would be very puzzled and
really
pissed. So it was perfect.

And when Gina heard, she was indeed flummoxed. According to plan. Bwwwwahahahaha. . .

“Why?” She looked at him like he was a mental patient.

“Because, Mom; maybe they have some secrets or something on how to be chill . . . like how to just relax and take it easy and stop stressing all the time. I don't know!”

His mom stared at him, like sarcastic with her eyes, like, “nice try.” “It's also a really good way to show me how pissed you are at me, right? The one thing that I've always said is that you don't need religion to be good! The ONE thing I never wanted
you
to have to deal with! All that . . . junk—you are now going to embrace?! Really?!” Her voice grew sharp with exasperation. “But you know what, Beau? On second thought, you go ahead! Go head on, Mr. God-Man! You go
try
to make sense of it! And good luck!”

She was totally wigged out by his new plan. It was perfect.

Jewels and Pete were pretty glad about it too. “Now you can hang out on Sundays, and we could also attend Bible study on Wednesday nights, if you want.”

“Really? People go to church twice in a week?” Beau looked dubious. This could be a lot of commitment.

“Yeah, some of them all day on Sunday, and Wednesday night for Bible study. We don't, but if you want to, we could start.” Pete nodded.

“You would too?” Beau looked at Jewels. She didn't like going since she didn't believe in anything anymore. “Even though you don't want to go to Christian school anymore?

“Sure.” She shrugged. “If you do. It'd be fine. It would be fun, if all three of us were there.” Her attitude was way more indifferent than he thought it would be.

“Why
did
you quit going to One Truth?” Beau had always been curious.

“No big. I just needed a vacay from the cray-cray. You'll see. Also, too bogus to girls!”

So on Sundays Beau accompanied them to church, and on Wednesday nights the three began Bible study. It was fun hanging with Pete and Jewels. He actually
did
want to read the Bible and see if there might be anything that would help his dilemma.

But after the fourth week of Bible classes, he couldn't take it anymore.

“Are you guys reading this stuff?” he asked, incredulously, on their walk back to Pete's and Jewels's house.

“Yeah.” They looked at each other and shrugged. Theirs were the mild and bored expressions of barnyard animals. Placidly uninterested.

“Like
all
of it?”

“Yeah. Whatever Rev assigns. Usually,” said Pete. He liked the “hip” young minister.

“Do you read past?”

“No.” They snorted, simultaneously. “Why?”

“Never? You never read past . . . ever?”

“Because why, Beau? What are you getting at?” Pete asked, as they took a shortcut and wandered into the playground. He went over to the swings and sat in one. Beau stood in front of him. Jewels slipped into a swing. She started to twist the chains into a spiral and twirl, in release. Her hair flew around her.