Boy21: Chapters 29–40

“Wes and Russ are in the lobby. Boy21 made us lie on his bedroom floor in the dark and listen to this jazz CD about using music to travel through outer space and then I was confused and suddenly I’m at the hospital and I was so worried about you that I just threw up. I puked twice. I puked yellow bile even.”

“Her leg’s shattered and she has bruises all over her face. They’re scanning her brain for damage now. She was rambling for a time and then she got really angry and started yelling at me like I did something wrong, when all I was doing was holding her hand.”

Alone in the hospital, I think about how fragile people are, how anyone can disappear in a second and be gone forever—how close I’ve come to losing Erin—and I start to remember things I don’t want to remember, so I bite down on the triangle of skin between my left thumb and forefinger until it hurts enough to stop my brain from dredging up any of the garbage that sits at the bottom of my memory.

Eventually Coach shows up with the girls’ coach, Mrs. Battle, a large squat serious lady who always wears a tracksuit.

Russ really has a shot to go far, and your helping him get through this tough period is commendable.

I know that he’s trying to make me feel better about losing my starting position, that he’s thanking me, but with Erin in the hospital—with my having just seen how bad she was hurt and understanding that her hopes for a college scholarship are now over—this hardly seems like the appropriate time to be discussing Russ.

My stomach starts to churn.

When the JV squad finishes, we shoot around—I hit every shot I take—and then in the locker room Coach announces the starting lineup, leaving out my name. No one says anything to me about my demotion, and I really don’t care all that much.

The swelling in her face has gone down considerably.

I wonder why she’s so angry, but then someone behind me says, “This is asinine! Why can’t I go in to see my daughter? I’m tired of waiting here!”

“Erin and I didn’t ask to be a part of that world.”
“Neither did I,” Dad says, which makes me feel bad, because Dad’s life has been pretty bleak, and through no fault of his own.

It takes a second to register, but then I realize he’s in the process of turning my bedroom ceiling into a galaxy.

We stretch out on the floor and bask in the weird green glow.

After a week or so, the nurse says Erin has been moved to a different building for rehab. “What building? Where?” I ask. But they tell me it’s confidential, which makes me mad enough to sprint back into the ward to see if they’re lying to me.

A huge security guard grabs me by the arm and says, “I suggest you exit the premises quietly and without incident.”

They used to leave a key under the third brick in the garden, so I fumble around on my hands and knees, counting bricks and sifting dirt until I find that key.

I get so nervous about her whereabouts that I lose my head and barge into the Irish Pride Pub one afternoon after school.

This is all speculation, Finley.

I’ve been mulling over the unfairness of my situation for weeks, but hearing Russ state it so matter-of-factly hurts.

It’s like basketball was his cure—his return to sanity.

It’s almost like I absorbed all of his craziness, like I was his leech, because he seems absolutely fine now, while I walk around school every day like I’m living on another planet.

Even the manure smell is okay with me, because it’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before—different than the smell of Bellmont’s sewer system. To be clear, I don’t like the manure smell, but I like being in the countryside.

Once the sun goes down, library voices are mandatory, which means you need to whisper. You’ll be asked to leave if you hoot and holler.

We all sign the papers, receive complimentary star charts, and then get back into the car.

My pop underestimated the ruthlessness of his coworkers.

When I was little, I used to think that we visited my mom’s grave because she was somehow there—like we were really going to spend time with her ghost or something like that. Now I realize we go so Pop can repent.

I sit at the table opposite Pop and Dad and notice that their physical similarities are striking.

Erin was and is beautiful enough to make even Bellmont tolerable, so I close my eyes and imagine her face.

The train lurches forward and we pull out of Thirtieth Street Station.

So much had to happen to land me on this train—thinking about that makes it feel like someone’s kicking in my skull, and then, suddenly, I’m thinking about the unfathomable stars Russ and I saw from the viewing station in the woods. We really don’t get to understand why most of the time.