“And he’d never follow you after that,” says Burgen.
Nausea wells up my throat. “Mission accomplished,” I mumble. “All he ever wanted was to be my friend.”
“Do you still beat him up?”
I jerk in surprise at the question and stare at him. “Not anymore.”
“Why’d you stop?”
I’m flabbergasted that I need to explain. It seems so obvious. “I don’t know...I realized it was wrong…and-and I stopped.”
“Well, that’s good that you stopped.”
“Maybe I should get a medal,” I say. “Along with a trophy that says BEST BIG BROTHER.”
“Not a medal,” he replies seriously. “Or a trophy. But you did stop. That deserves to be recognized.”
I don’t know why, but this makes me so sad that tears spill down my face. I turn away to wipe them.
“I think it’s karma,” I say.
“Karma?”
“Yeah. I pick on my little brother, then I get leukemia. It’s karma.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“I thought shrinks are supposed to have answers.”
“We’re here to help
you
find the answers.”
I sit in miserable silence, wishing I could change things for Simon.
“What would they do?” he asks gently. “What would your friends do when you’d fight Simon?”
“Laugh, most of them, like it was natural for them, too, to beat up on a little brother. Except Vlad. He’d try to hurry us out of there. Like maybe he wanted to get me off my brother.”
“So since your diagnosis, the beatings stopped?”
“From me.”
Burgen’s eyebrows lift. “Someone else is roughing him up?”
“I saw them during my last time travel, and I-I suspect they’re still doing it in real time. I see bruises sometimes on his arms and shins. He had one on his ear yesterday.”
“Who are they?”
“That’s what I intend to find out. You’ve got to take me back.”
He leans forward. “Before you go, I want you to know something.”
I meet his gaze.
“You’re not a monster.”
I look away, ashamed. “I’m a bully.”
“Yes. You were.”
There it is. I sob.
“And you were also a kid yourself, Luke.”
“I’m not a kid,” I insist. “I’m sixteen. Taller than my father.”
“Height does not equal age.”
“Sometimes Simon’s nose would bleed. Sometimes he’d yell and I still wouldn’t let him go.”
“Sometimes the people we love the most are the ones we treat the worst. Tell him you’re sorry, Luke. Apologize. Sorry goes a long way. It’s an underrated word, but one of the most powerful.”
“He hates me.”
“Tell him what’s in your heart and that you’re sorry.” Burgen touches my arm. “When you were hitting him, you were what? Thirteen? Fourteen? You don’t think you’re a kid now, none of us do at your age. But when you get older and you look back, you’ll know that you were.”
He has a way of making it seem like there’s some way out of this situation for me that’s normal. That I’ll recall this period as part of my dumb childhood. He doesn’t understand. I’m in remission, but maybe it’s near the end for me anyway, and I’ll never get another chance to make it up to my only brother.
Burgen’s explanations don’t wipe away my shame and sorrow at what I did to Simon.
“Simon’s going to look back at this time, too,” I say, “and what’s he going to think? When he’s sixteen and then twenty? That what a shitty brother he has.” I rub my t-shirt over my soggy face. I know what I need to do. I need to help Simon. “Take me back to the same spot with Jennifer, when I see Simon getting pounded on.”
“Your call,” he says. “Take out the dice.”
∞
“Luke?” It’s Jennifer’s voice as I drift in from the fog. I made it. I squint through the darkness and try to stifle the strong scent of autumn leaves and fishy water gushing through the sewer grate next to me. She’s in front of me on the sidewalk, her house is behind us, the park ahead. “Luke? Why did you stop walking? What is it?”
She smells wonderful – her chap stick, her skin – which makes it all the more difficult to leave her.
We’re interrupted as shadows of my brother and his tormentors race past us to the park. I have to choose between Jennifer and Simon. It’s harder than I think.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” I say in a rush. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
I whiz past her as she shouts, “Stop! Come back!”
I’m hurting her by leaving without explanation, but Simon needs me more.
I run at full speed. The air in my lungs stings as I breathe in the scents of the night. The muscles in my thighs pull, my arms nearly bust out of their sockets how fast I’m flying. I catch up to them, three boys after my brother. I pick up a stone and whip it at them as they corner Simon behind the slides.
One gets the stone in the leg and yelps. “Who threw that?”
My breath freezes. I’m shocked because I recognize the strong cologne and the voice as one of my friend’s. Gary.
They see me and run. Who’s Gary with? It looks like his younger brother, and another person I don’t recognize.
Why Gary? Why on earth Gary?
I feel sick to my stomach because I remember Gary laughing the most gleefully whenever he’d see me pounding on Simon. Is this what I caused? He saw me smack Simon and feels he now has a right to?
Simon is left panting on the ground, lying on his back and clutching his ribs. He’s ten and looks so small.
“Simon,” I say tenderly as I approach. How could I possibly apologize?
My little brother sees me and squirms in the dirt, trying to get away from my reach and clutching his ribs.
I gasp. He’s afraid of me. Terrified I’m going to hit him, too.
I reach out but he pulls back. He wiggles his shoulders back and forth to gain momentum, but he’s still winded and unable to rise.
In a burst of moonlight, I look down at him and fill with self-loathing. In his pain and fear, he closes his eyes and braces himself for my slug.
“I’m not going to hit you,” I say awkwardly, but he turns his head and covers it protectively with his arm.
“Here, let me help you up.” I go for his hand, he kicks me in the shin, jumps up and runs.
I’m knocked over, my knee gives out and I fall.
I’m only trying to say I’m sorry. I leap after him and run like a madman, two aching brothers in the darkness. We’re both out of breath as we race through familiar places. Past the lamppost, the curb, the corner house that has the huge willow tree.
“Simon stop! Stop!” I reach out and yank his shirt. The shoulder rips. He swings forward due to my strong hold and nearly trips.
“Leave me alone!”
I’m still tugging his sleeve and force him to stop. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I don’t believe anything you say.” He smacks my hand away. I’m speechless. He stomps off toward home.
I lunge to catch up. “That was Gary back there and his brother Derek.”
“So?”
“Who else?”
He doesn’t speak.
“Who else?” I demand.
He still doesn’t speak.
“Who else!” I shout, how angry I am at myself and what I caused, and that Simon doesn’t want to talk to me.
“I don’t know! He brings someone new every time!”
Whoa.
Someone new? I’m floored. Someone new every time? What is Simon going through? I’d like to punch the living daylights out of everyone who ever touched him. At the end of it, I would toss myself over a cliff.
“Why are you following me?” he says. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Can’t I walk with you?”
“What for?”
“Because I want to.”
“Why?”
He looks so young. His cheeks are slightly chubby, freckles cover his nose, his big front teeth are new and shiny. The aroma of black licorice drifts from his pockets.
“Because,” I say with exasperation. “You’re my brother. Can’t I spend some time with you?”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffs.
I swallow my anguish. “Let’s play some video games.”
“Go away.”
I wince. I yearn to be his friend. Instead, I watch his thin frame get smaller and smaller as he fades into blackness, and my hopes of making him feel better sink to the bottom of my world.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My brother disappears. A feeling of helplessness overpowers me, like the time when he was a baby and I saw that monster dog chomping on his leg. This time I can’t get it off. This time the monster is me.
There’s got to be a way for me to apologize.
Sorry I used to beat the snot out of you.
Sorry I embarrassed you in front of my friends.
Sorry I started a trend with Gary.
Sorry I’m a piss-poor brother
.
Staring at the black void in front of me, I swear that I’m going to turn this around for Simon.
I slide my cell phone out of my pocket to check the hour but it’s dead. I try but can’t get it to boot up. However, my six hours here are far from over. I wonder what’ll happen when I pass the six-hour mark. I wonder what I should do about Simon.
My guess is that it’s past ten already. The sidewalks are deserted, but cars come and go and people pile in and out of them on a Saturday night.
I head toward Jennifer’s house. When I get there, the lights are on downstairs, and two bedrooms upstairs. Which one is hers? An oncoming car slows down. The driver, an old man, studies me. He turns into the driveway next to Jennifer’s and I realize I must look creepy staring at her house. I turn and walk. I find myself heading downhill toward the river and Harvest Park. It’s dark and the moon casts a light on the surging river.
The Ferris wheel and rides are going full-tilt. People scream cheerfully. Their laughter makes me lonely.
I’m tired. Maybe my weariness is from the day’s crazy events, or maybe it’s from the leukemia I’m battling but don’t know it yet. I sit down on the boulders by the water where I met up with Jennifer and Allison earlier today. My mind hums, I lean back against the warm stone and drift away...
When I come to again, my alarm is going off and I bolt awake in my bed.
What happened?
The strong smell of feathers from my pillow fills the air. I clamp my hand over my nose to suppress it. My six hours must’ve passed while I sat at the riverbank and drifted to sleep. I must’ve time traveled back to real time, and slept through the transition.
I’m late and rush to get dressed, ignoring the overwhelming smell of bacon and eggs that my mother’s making. When I get to the kitchen, I reach for a muffin. I see that Ivy and Simon must’ve already left for school.
“Luke, you need better nutrition,” my mother says. “Have some eggs.”
“Thanks, but not today.” I sprint out the door to get to school. Except the sprinting makes me dizzy so I slow down to a walk. Maybe it’s the scent of hot tar and gravel that’s making me spin. A bookshop across the street is getting its roof tarred.
Ivy would be headed to high school, but Simon goes to the middle school around the corner. I hear the bell for Simon’s school go off, so he must be in class. Mine doesn’t start till half an hour later, so I’ve got some time in the schoolyard. My sense of smell has normalized by the time I get there.
I spot Allison and the group from the Drama Club.
“Allie!” I rush toward her.
She turns at the side door. The wind snatches at her curly hair. Three girls and three guys are about to enter with her, including the ones from the photo in the yearbook. Excitement rushes through me that they might know where Jennifer lives.
“Hi,” I say. They look at me.
“Hi Luke,” says Allison.
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you,” I say to the gang. “Do you guys remember Jennifer Marks?”
“Yeah,” says one of the girls.
One of the guys nods.
“Have any of you heard from her? After she left last year?”
Allison adjusts her backpack on her shoulder. “You still trying to contact her, Luke?”
“Yeah. Any idea where she might be?”
A short guy with an earring shakes his head. A girl with orange hair shrugs. One by one, they come up blank.
“Sorry, Luke,” says Allison. They pile into the school.
The red door closes in my face and I stare at it in cold disappointment. A teacher walks by and looks at me funny, so I move away from the door.
I drag myself back around the school, toward the side where I usually enter. I see Vlad and some guys we hang with. He waves and I head toward them in the yard. Except when he turns aside, I look through the crowd, and in the distance beside the fence, notice Gary looking at me.
The hair on my scalp stands on edge. The bastard pounded on my little brother.
My adrenaline surges. My breath rushes. My heartbeat pounds like a rock inside my chest. I scream and charge at him full tilt, like a monster dog.
It’s been almost a year since we’ve talked, since I got diagnosed. That’s when he started backing away from me. He’s still got stringy black hair and a dirty backpack. When he sees me coming, he rears back, his eyes grow big and dark. “What the hell?”
He throws the first punch. I duck. I swing and bash his jaw. He falls. We roll. He clobbers my ribs. It flattens my breath, but I connect my fist on his jaw again.
“Luke!” shouts Vlad. “Luke, don’t!”
Gary’s friends try to stop me by shouting obscenities, but it fuels my rage. Gary pounds me in the stomach again and I feel my ribs crack.
“You freak!” he shouts.
My ribs burn with pain. I lose my air. I need to catch my breath before I can do anything.
Gary gets up and takes out his red pocketknife. He snaps open a blade. His face swirls above me.
“Put that thing away,” Vlad warns.
Gary’s group of friends yank at his arm. He sneers at me that I’m still down, then snaps his knife closed and moves away with his friends.
“Luke?” Vlad peers down at me.
I don’t have the air to answer.
He helps me up.
Fresh, powerful air surges back into my lungs.
“What’s the problem here?” Mr. Thornton, our short and skinny basketball coach, peers up through his bifocals at us.
“No problem, sir,” says Vlad. “Luke tripped.”
“You all right?” the coach asks me.