The Reluctant Journal of Henry K. Larsen (20 page)

I read the letter three times in a row. Then I tipped the envelope and eased out a small, flat object that was carefully wrapped in layers of Bubble Wrap.

It was our sand dollar. The perfect sand dollar we’d found on the beach a couple of years ago. I am holding it in my left palm right now. It is cool and smooth.

I’d let her keep it because she’d been having a bad day.

I guess she’s returning the favor.

Mr. Atapattu came over yesterday. He was carrying a gift-wrapped box. “Henry, I am so glad to see that you are alright,” he said. He handed me the box. “For your recovery. Straight from the Home Shopping Network.”

I tore off the wrapping paper. Inside was my very own Slanket, in navy blue. “Thanks,” I said as I slipped it on. It felt like I was wrapped in a cocoon.

Mr. Atapattu picked up a framed photo from the
mantelpiece. It was a picture of me, Jesse, and Mom, standing in front of the Legoland sign.

“That’s my brother,” I said.

“Yes, I know.”

“Did Dad tell you what happened?”

“No.”

“Karen?”

He shook his head. “I’ve known for a long time. I Googled you shortly after you moved in.”

I raised my eyebrows, but he just shrugged.

“After you’ve had a meth lab next door, you tend to do your research.”

“So you’ve known this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“And you still wanted to get to know us. You were still nice to us.”

“You sound surprised.”

I was. I was also near tears. I blame my head injury.

“Henry, when tragedy befalls someone, it is when he needs comforting most.”

“I just thought you were a lonely old man, desperate for company,” I blurted.

Again, I blame my head injury.

But he just laughed. “Oh, I’m definitely that, too. It wasn’t entirely unselfish, I assure you.”

He could see I was starting to get tired, so we turned on the TV. Dad had PVR’ed a bunch of GWF shows while I was in hospital. We started watching “Monday Night Meltdown,” and, at the first commercial break, an ad came on for the GWF Smash-Up Live! in Seattle! “Tickets are going fast! Get yours now to avoid disappointment!”

“I was
this close
to going to that show,” I told him.

“Really?”

I nodded. And even though I was tired, I wound up telling Mr. Atapattu the whole story about Recycling Managerial Services and Farley getting robbed and my fight with Troy.

“That’s terrible,” he said. “Did you know I was robbed three times when I drove my cab?”

“Seriously?”

“It was very frightening.”

“I bet.” I was starting to feel dozy in my Slanket.

“The GWF Smash-Up Live! in Seattle,” I heard him say. “That would have been quite an experience.”

Then I didn’t hear anything else because I fell asleep.

This morning Dad asked if it was okay if him and Mom went for a walk. I said sure. Once they were gone, I headed upstairs to Karen’s apartment.

“Hey,” she said when she opened the door. “You’re
back.” Her hair was freshly washed, and she was wearing jeans and a sweater.

“You look different,” I told her.

“How so?”

“Better. Not so tired. Or so slutty.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“To be honest, I feel like crap. But I’m almost a month sober.”

“Congratulations.”

She let me in and made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We sat together in her living room.

“Did you hate him?” I asked.

She knew exactly what I meant. “I did. For years. But now … I just have compassion. Dad would never have intentionally hurt us, you know? His depression must have been crushing him to do what he did.”

I can hardly believe I’m writing this, but it’s true: Karen is so easy to talk to. She’s been there. And she just tells it like it is.

“Do you still think about him a lot?”

“Every day. But they’re almost all nice thoughts now. They’re memories of the good times. Because we had a lot of good times before he took his life. Did you and your brother have a lot of good times?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Then put your energy into remembering that,” she said. “You’re the keeper of your brother’s memory. He did an awful thing, Henry. But he wasn’t an awful person.”

5:00 p.m.

I’m in my room now. Mom’s cooking a roast chicken for dinner. The apartment has never smelled so good.

I’m looking through a photo album. It’s one of a stack Mom brought up from the storage locker. There’s a picture of Jesse and me, when he was nine and I was seven, sitting outside a pup tent in our backyard. We’re wearing our pajamas, and we’re laughing hard.

I remember that morning so well. It was the first time Mom and Dad let Jesse and me sleep in the backyard in the tent. Jesse had pleaded for most of that summer, and Mom finally said okay. Dad helped us pitch the tent, and we filled it with sleeping bags and pillows and flashlights and a bunch of comic books and snacks.

We had a ton of fun, until it got dark. Then I got scared. The wind rustled through the trees, and I was sure there were black bears or monsters coming to get us. I started to cry. I wanted to go inside.

Jesse didn’t call me a sissy or a baby. He talked to me in a calm voice. He’d just finished reading a book called
The BFG
, and he started to tell me the story. It was about a girl named Sophie, who befriends a Big Friendly Giant. It was an amazing tale about capturing good dreams to give to children and battling a band of very
un
friendly giants. Next thing I knew, it was morning: I’d slept through the night in the tent.

“You did it,” he said when we both woke up at the crack of dawn, thanks to a woodpecker that was tapping on a nearby tree.

“I did!” I replied.

Jesse high-fived me. We unzipped the tent and saw Mom, peering anxiously out of her bedroom window. We waved. She and Dad made us a huge pancake breakfast.

That’s a good memory.

It’s a start.

1:00 a.m.

You’ll never guess where I am.

I am in the backseat of a rented minivan. Mom and Karen are in the middle row, chatting. Dad is sitting beside Mr. Atapattu, who is driving. Farley and Jesse are with me in the backseat. We’re heading home after the most awesome night of my life.

Here’s how it happened. Farley showed up at our apartment this morning at nine o’clock. Normally I wouldn’t even be out of bed, but Mom and Dad had woken me up at eight, with the excuse that Mom had made a big breakfast, which she didn’t want to go to waste.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“Your parents invited me to breakfast,” he said, and maybe it’s the lingering effects of the concussion, but I didn’t even stop to think that this was weird.

Then Mr. Atapattu showed up. He was grinning, showing off his very white teeth. “Henry, will you help me with something downstairs?” he said.

By then I was starting to get suspicious, especially when everyone else came downstairs, too. The minivan was waiting out front. Karen was standing beside it. “Get in,”
Mr. Atapattu said.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Seattle,” said Mr. Atapattu.

My eyes widened. “No way. No way no way no way!”

“It’s true, it’s true!” Farley shouted, grabbing my arms and jumping up and down.

“You told me about the surprise you’d been planning for your parents,” Mr. Atapattu said. “So we decided we’d turn the tables and plan a surprise for
you
.”

I could feel my eyes start to sting, and I had to dig my fingernails into my palms. “Thank you,” I said.

Mr. Atapattu shrugged. “It was either spend some money on this trip, or spend it on some very expensive vitamin supplements I saw on the Home Shopping Network.”

We all piled into the van. Mr. Atapattu put the key in the ignition. And suddenly I pictured Jesse, sitting on the mantelpiece. He’d loved the GWF more than anyone. Even in his darkest days, he would sit with the rest of us and watch “Saturday Night Smash-Up.”

I couldn’t leave him by himself on today of all days.

“I forgot something,” I said just as Mr. Atapattu was about to pull away.

So I ran back upstairs and brought down the shoebox. Mom started to protest: What if the van got broken into,
what if the border guards asked questions? But Dad squeezed her hand, and she took a deep breath, and I climbed into the back with my brother.

We had so much fun in Seattle. We arrived at lunchtime, and it was a sunny day, so we ate our sandwiches outside before going up the Space Needle. Later on, we visited the Pike Street Market. Then it was time to hit the stadium.

I was worried that they wouldn’t let Jesse in. I’d slipped him into my backpack, and security guards were checking everyone’s bags. But when the security guard looked into mine, all he said was, “New shoes?”

“Yes,” I lied. He waved me through.

It was an awesome night. Our seats were good, in the thirtieth row. They had big-screen TV’s so you could see everything up close and personal. Farley had even brought homemade signs to wave. His said “
VLAD THE IMPALER IS
#1!” Mine said “
THE GREAT DANE IS
#2!” Farley thought that was hilarious.

My mom was thrilled when El Toro hit the ring. Best of all, he had a rematch with Jack Knife, and this time El Toro whipped his butt. He flipped Jack Knife right over the ropes and out of the ring! And my dad went mental when the Twister took on the Thompson Twins and won.

At the break, Karen took us to one of the shops in the stadium and said, “You can each spend fifty bucks.”

“We can’t spend your money –” I started.

“Yes, we can!” said Farley as he raced into the shop.

“Suresh Atapattu isn’t the only one who can treat his friends,” Karen said to me. She’d sat beside Mr. Atapattu on the way down, which was a big mistake. They’d argued about everything: his driving, which lane to choose at the border, which route to take into the city, where to park when we arrived. So if she needed us to spend her money to even out some invisible playing field, who was I to argue?

Farley bought a Vlad the Impaler T-shirt and a Vlad the Impaler poster. I bought a Great Dane hoodie and lunch box. I told Karen why I wanted the lunch box. “Do you think your parents will approve?” she asked.

I shrugged. “It’s better than a shoebox.”

The second half of the show was even better than the first, especially when the Great Dane hit the ring. I went nuts. And guess who his opponent was? Vlad the Impaler! Farley and I both went nuts!! (And so did my dad, which was a little embarrassing. Grown men really shouldn’t pump their fists in the air and go,
“Whoooooooooooo!”
)

It was a spectacular match. Best of all, the Great Dane won! And he did it with no underhanded tricks or illegal
moves (although he did rub his butt in Vlad’s face when he was lying on the mat, groaning in defeat, but, really, who could blame him?).

For tonight, at least, the underdog won.

I went to my session with Cecil last Friday. He looked pretty happy to see me. I told him the story I told Karen. I told him without once using Robot-Voice. He said he was proud of me for sharing such a painful memory.

I also told him about Jodie, and the letter. I even brought in the sand dollar and let him hold it.

“Holy Moly,” he said. “It’s so smooth.”

Then he helped me write a letter to her. He actually had a lot of good advice. He even gave me a stamp.

When it was time for me to go, he said, “By the way, I’ve watched a couple episodes of ‘Saturday Night Smash-Up.’ ”

“And?”

“It’s pretty addictive,” he said.

He still needs a haircut. And new socks. But other than that? Cecil’s not such a bad guy.

Going back to school was hard.

Farley met me at the front doors on my first day. “I think word’s leaked out.”

“About …?”

“About your brother. They didn’t hear it from me,” he added quickly. “Or Alberta. But you were talking about your brother in the bathroom.… Maybe someone looked it up on the Web?”

Barf
. “How do you know people know?”

“A couple of kids have asked me about it. Ambrose asked me yesterday.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said he should ask you.”

I sighed. “Gee, thanks.”

We entered the school. I could tell right away from the looks I got that Farley was right. People knew. But I think Farley must’ve talked to the Reach For The Top kids because, whenever I walked into a classroom, one of them would come and sit beside me right away. Like in Socials, Jerome sits beside me all the time now. He’s a man of few words. “Hey,” he’ll say as he slips into the seat beside me.

“Hey,” I’ll say back.

In Enriched English, Farley, Ambrose, and Parvana form a little triangle around me. In Enriched Math, Farley and Shen flank me on either side. It’s a little obvious, but you know what? It’s also appreciated. And after just two weeks, I notice that the glances and whispers are starting to ease up.