Red and Blue Chronicles Box Set

Chapter 14

Dear Bump,

One morning, just minutes after the red sunlight had flooded my bedroom, I crept out of the room and tiptoed to the washroom. I closed the door behind me and sat on the cold ceramic floor, with my back against the door.

I couldn’t feel my body anymore. Not even my head.

I knew I was alive because my heart was pounding.

Nick.

How could I love someone so much and not be able to tell him?

I closed my eyes and tried to make my heart stop from beating. I prayed to God, “Make this heartbeat be the last.”

But it never was. There was always another one, then another, and another, until all I could hear and feel was my stupid heart thundering inside me. I clenched my fists, bit down on my lip, and prayed harder. It never stopped. I needed it to stop. Couldn’t feel this pain anymore. This loneliness.

I slapped my chest.

But my heart kept beating.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

I slapped it harder.

Boom.

Harder still.

Boom Boom.

I hit it again and again, but it kept beating, so I hit it again.

And again.

With my palm, then my closed fist, but it kept going like a ghost drum.

Going without a soul or an order.

I pounded my chest, pounding now with both fists, hitting until the air was knocked out of me, and with every strike, my head bounced against the door, but I kept hitting and slapping my chest. My neck. My face, My head. Banging myself up. My nose. My mouth.

I need you.

There was blood now. On my hands and fingers. But I couldn’t feel anything.

So I kept hitting.

“Open the door! Baby, open the door!”

The last blow brought an explosion of color. Some purple, some white.

Then darkness.

The first thing I saw when I came to, was the deep blue arctic sea dripping down into my eyes.

“Hey…you.” Nick was looking down at me.

I was floating. Moving along the surface of the world. The sky raced by. Bare trees. Buildings. Flashing above me. Voices hummed near my head.

“Johan, slow down.” I recognized Aunt Frannie’s voice.

I moved my tongue inside my mouth, except it wasn’t really my mouth, just a bruise stretched over my gums and teeth. I moved my fingers. A sharp pain rippled up my arms, then stabbed me hard in the throat. I moaned.

“Sh…It’s okay,” Nick whispered. “Don’t talk.”

I closed my eyes.

“Dad, faster. He passed out again.”

I moaned again. “Mom.”

Then something soft moved over my head. A gentle touch full of restrain.

“Mom,” I moaned louder.

“It’s okay,” Nick whispered again. “I got you now. Okay? I got you.”

There were fingers in my hair, brushing my bangs gently out of my face, and every time those fingers grazed my forehead, the pain let out a little. I tried opening my eyes again. I focused my gaze. “Where am—am I?”

Aunt Frannie’s voice streamed down to me. “On your way to the hospital. How do you feel? Can you see? Can you feel everything on your body?”

I moved a little. I could feel everything. “It hurts.”

Nick chuckled softly, and his stomach shook against my neck.

Then I was lying on his lap? And those fingers caressing my hair so sweetly were his fingers?

“O’Reilly,” he said quietly. “The way it stands, you’re gonna have to start talking a little more.”

I looked up at his face. My heart leaped. My lips trembled. “I’m scared, Nick.”

“Oh, don’t cry, O’Reilly. Shh…Everybody’s scared. Everybody.”

The tears stung my eyes. “B—but not Boone,” I said, trying not to choke on the sob in my throat.

Nick’s blue gaze drifted. He stared out of the car window. “No. Not Boone.”

I closed my eyes again, listening to the tires rolling on the street. Listening to Nick breathing against me. The pain in my face and neck was like a pulse, beating in time with my own heart. I tightened my jaw and fists.

Nick’s fingers moved inside my hair, but his touch was different.

Distracted.

I opened my eyes to look up at him. His eyes were fastened to the winter sky.

We stopped.

I was pulled away from his body and lifted into a chair, then rolled down a brightly lit hall.

* * * *

The doctor asked Aunt Frannie to leave.

She hesitated by the door and then slowly turned around and left me sitting in the office, on the doctor’s paper covered table. “I’ll be right outside the door, hon.” Her voice was like a bell in a hurricane.

The doctor shut the door. His colorless eyes looked like dried chickpeas crushed under Coke bottles. “Remove your gown please.”

I could hardly lift my arms, but I obeyed. I slipped the gown down my shoulders, and then pull it gently off. I wondered if my underwear was clean.

“Lie on your back, please.”

The paper sheet rustled under my back. It was cold, too.

“Turn your face to the left.”

The doctor’s hands were warm. His skin was loose, as though he wore a mask of second-hand skin.

“Look into the light please. Follow it.”

I watched the light at the end of the black stick. Left. Right. Left. Up. Down. My teeth clattered. I bit my tongue twice. My back lifted from the table, on account of my body shaking like a leaf.

“Sit up.”

I tried. I rose halfway, but fell back. My belly was soaked with fire. My hands were sore and bruised.

“Hold my neck.” The doctor pulled me up. Gently. “Reach your arms out.” He helped me slip the gown back on and left the room.

The shivers running through me had become too powerful for my body. They jerked it wildly, sending waves of hurt all through my arms and neck. I bent my knees, wrapped my arms around my legs, and held on as hard as I could, trying to contain the vibration.

The doctor walked back in. He was carrying a large brown blanket, and when he wrapped it around my shoulders, my body loosened a little.

“I want to talk to you.”

My heart jumped.

He dragged the chair closer and sat down. He removed the Coke bottles and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “Do you play soccer?”

I knew my eyebrows had met in the middle, because my forehead hurt.

He leaned in. “I’m asking because my grandson plays soccer. Thought maybe you knew him.”

I don’t know anybody, except the people I know. And I’ve never played soccer, on account of my asthma.

The doctor sighed.

I figured I should ask his grandson’s name. That was the polite thing to do. I pulled the blanket closer to my chest. “What’s his—his na—name?”

Something moved inside the doctor’s eyes. “Pete.”

I didn’t know anyone named Pete.

The doctor’s beige eyes were steady on my face. “He’s your age. Eleven, right?”

“Twelve.”

“His dad is my son.”

That made sense.

“Sometimes they have arguments. Just little things. They fight about Pete’s homework, or the mess in his bedroom.”

My mouth was dry, but I was too shy to ask for a glass of water. I kept staring at the sink, hoping.

“One time, my son came back from a very bad at day at work. Pete had kept his soccer shoes on in the house. There was a trail of mud from the entrance, all the way to the living room.”

I looked up.

“My son was very angry. Not so much at Pete. Just angry about everything, but he hit Pete across the shoulder, then slapped him in the face.”

My lips came apart a bit. I sucked in a short breath. I felt warmer.

“My son called me that night. He was crying.”

Who ever heard of a grown man crying?

“You see, my son felt terrible about what he had done. He thought the worst of himself. He asked me what he should do or say to make things better between him and his son.”

There was a knock at the door. I looked over at it.

So did the doctor. He rose. “Excuse me.”

In the door frame stood a policeman. He was taller than a tree and his dark eyes found mine in a blink.

The doctor shut the door behind him. I heard them talking outside the room but couldn’t make out the words. I did hear my name twice.

I looked down at my feet. Swung my legs under the bed. The pain wasn’t that bad anymore. Maybe it had something to do with the white pills the nurse had asked me to swallow. I was feeling a lot better. I wondered if Nick and Johan were still in the hospital.

I slid off the bed, folded the blanket, and then set it on the chair. I looked around for my clothes but couldn’t find them. The gown was silly looking. There was no way I was going to be seen walking around in this dress. I sighed.

What could I do to make this doctor give me back my clothes and send me home?

The door swung open and the policeman walked in. The doctor was two steps behind. There was some color in the doctor’s grayish cheeks. “Derek, this man would like to talk to you for a moment. Just a few questions. Is that okay with you? Standard procedure.”

Standard procedure. I liked the sound of that.

The giant policeman smiled. He had big white teeth. “Good boy.”

The doctor stood nervously by the door. “All right then,” he muttered before leaving.

The policeman leaned against the sink. “Sit down, son.” I sat on the bed again. His voice was like Darth Vader’s, but without the noisy breathing. “Says here,” he said and squinted, staring at the clipboard in his humongous hand. “Says here that your auntie found you in bad shape. Says you were unconscious and pretty banged up.”

I swallowed hard.

“Doc says you don’t have anything broken. No signs of concussion. Nothing but some bruises, some marks.”

I reached up and folded my fingers over my neck.

The policeman lifted a finger to me. “Like that one there, for instance.” He reached for my fingers and I flinched. “Easy now. Easy. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said. His milk chocolate eyes moved all along my shoulder and neck, like a flashlight over the shadows. “You wanna know what I think?”

My heart beat inside my ears.

“Your friend. The Lund boy. We know him. He’s got a pretty good rap sheet for a kid his age. I’d almost say, impressive.” He took a step back and leaned on the sink again. He rubbed his chin. “Your aunt says you were in some trouble, some brawl ‘round Hallow’s Eve. That true?”

Why would Aunt Frannie tell on me like that? I felt my eyes harden.

“That Lund boy was with you. Wasn’t he?”

Something was crawling up my chest, tightening all the loose ends inside me. My jaw locked. I jerked my chin up.

The policeman’s eyes darted back to my face. His furry eyebrows curled. “Well. Tell you what. I think he has somethin’ do to with this. I don’t know how, but I’m itchin’ to find out.”

“No.” That word felt like ice on a fresh burn. I had to say it again and again. “No. No.”

His gaze deepened. “No?”

“No.”

No. No. No. No. And no.

That word felt like the only thing worth saying. I couldn’t stop it from shooting out of my mouth. “No.” Couldn’t let a yes ever betray me. “No. No. No!” My hand flew up. “No!” It hit my cheek. “No!” My hand bounced off my sore skin, coming at it again and again, but some force restrained it.

Something strong enough to snap my wrist like a dry twig. It was the police officer’s fingers. “No more of that,” he whispered. I looked up. My hand had disappeared inside his. His eyes weren’t scanning anymore, they were looking. At me. At my face. My trembling lips. “Enough of that. No more, son.”

I let out some of the air in my lungs. “No,” I whispered again. “No.”

He released my hand. “Okay. I believe you. Okay. The Lund boy is clean as a whistle in this here story. I got it. Okay? I got it.”

“No.”

“Kid, contrary to popular belief, you gotta have some kind of brains to be a cop. Okay? So I got the no part. I got it.”

“My hear—heart kept bea—beating.”

He opened his mouth and formed a word, but it hung on his lips, as though he’d changed his mind. He c****d his head and stared into my eyes. “Talk to me,” he said quietly. “You can talk to me. That’s my job. You understand? I know how to listen. Talk to me.”

I looked down at his tag, and my heart skipped a beat. Di Paglio. He was the one. The one who had come to school that afternoon. With the dog.

“Bubba,” I murmured.

A faint smile turned up on his lips. “You know my furry partner.”

I nodded.

“You’ve seen me before. At school maybe.”

I nodded and sniffled.

“See. I’m the good guys. I’m on your side. Talk to me.”

I sighed heavily and chewed on my lip some more. Swung my legs.

“Derek, look, kid, I know your dad had to go up north for a job. I know your mom had to be sent away for a while. That’s a rotten deck you’re holding right now, but you never know, life might deal you a royal flush someday. Now talk to me ‘fore the doctor comes back in here.” He smiled. “Hit me with the ugliest thing you got floatin’ around in that head of yours.”

Ugly. All right then. “I beat my—myself up.”

Nothing moved between us. Officer Di Paglio’s face was like a picture. His arms hung like dead branches. Then, his chest moved forward, followed by his head. Like he was stepping out of a cookie mold. He turned around and ran some water. He filled a glass up and drank it in one straight gulp.

It looked nice.

“Can I—I have some—a glass pl—please?”

His back was to me. “Sure thing.” Officer Di Paglio filled another paper glass and slowly turned around. His face was the color of chalk dust. He handed me the glass.

I drank half of it and gave it back to him. I felt better. A whole bunch. “Can I go ho—home now?”

“Why did you do this to yourself?”

His question filled my eyes with tears.

“Derek? What made you lose your head like that?” He knit his thick eyebrows. “Did somebody ask you to? Maybe someone inside your mind? Some voices?”

“I want him to—to tou—touch me so much.”

Officer Di Paglio ran his hand over his face. “Him who?” His voice was flat. His honest eyes turned my secret thoughts into words.

“I wa—want him to ki—kiss me on my—my mouth.”

“Okay. Okay.” Officer Di Paglio set his clipboard down on the counter. “Okay.”

I nibbled on my thumbnail, watching him pace back and forth.

“Okay,” he said again. I don’t think he was talking to me. He picked up the clipboard again. “Okay.”

I began to worry.

He then took a piece of gum out of his pants. “Okay,” he said again. He dropped a piece in my hand. “Want some?”

I nodded.

He frowned. “You’re saying you like boys. I mean, in a—” his voiced tired, “—special way.”

I glanced up and thought about it for a moment. “No.”

“No?”

I crinkled my nose. “Nah-uh.” The gum was spearmint. I don’t like that kind, but I like Juicy Fruit. “No. Just hi—him.”

“Him who?”

“Nick.”

Officer Di Paglio didn’t smile back. His eyes were dull like butter knifes. “Okay,” he repeated again.

“Can I throw my—my gum out pl—please?”

The corners of his mouth sagged. “Yeah, sure thing.” He handed me the basket. I threw my gum in. “Nick, you mean that blond bum sitting in the waiting room?”

My body hardened and I tasted blood on my lip.

He looked up. “Listen, maybe you just admire him. You know? That happens between boys sometimes. When—” He stopped. “Never mind. I’m gonna go get your auntie.”

“No. Please.”

“Derek—”

“No!” I shook my head. “No.”

Officer Di Paglio’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Look, I won’t tell nobody about the whole wanting to kiss that juvenile delinquent thing. You don’t like boys the way you think, or you’d like all the boys.” He sighed. “I don’t know much about these things, but I know I have to tell your little auntie that you did this to yourself, ‘cause right now, she’s your legal guardian. She needs to know about these things. It’s the law. I have no choice.”

The warmth was gone from me. Fear soaked my spine. “O—okay.”

He smiled, but his face looked like it was about to crack. He slapped his thigh. “All right, kid. Stay put. You need anything?”

My eyes were glued to the floor.

“Derek. Hey.”

I shook my head and folded my arms over my chest.

“Derek, forget about it. Put that troublemaker out of your mind.” His voice grew stronger. “One day, you’ll meet a nice girl, marry her, and have a whole bunch of kids. This is gonna be like a nightmare that happened to somebody else. Okay? Trust me. It’s over now.” Officer Di Paglio hesitated by the door, staring into my eyes, and then disappeared.

I waited again. I watched a spider crawl across the floor. Fiddled with my gown. Counted the blue tiles. Minutes passed. The long kind.

Then the door swung open. “Baby!” Aunt Frannie rushed to me like I was on fire. “Honey. Red. Baby!” She was crying and shaking. “Why would you hurt yourself this way?”

Officer Di Paglio reached out and tried to peel her off me a little. “Ms. Saint-Jacques—”

“You could have killed yourself!”

Officer Di Paglio repeated. “Ms. Saint-Jacques.”

But Aunt Frannie couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own crying. Her tears were warm on my neck and cheek. “Oh, Red.” A sob exploded out of her mouth and spit shot out of her wet lips. “Don’t you know I’m here for you? Forever?”

“Francine.” Johan had appeared in the doorway. “Be still.” It looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. His hair was disheveled. His blue eyes shone with tenderness. “Francine,” he said again, his voice carrying everything safe back to me. He quietly entered the room and set his robust hands on Aunt Frannie’s shoulders. “Come with me.” His gaze met mine. “Let’s get you into some clothes.” He then faced Officer Di Paglio. “I’m taking them home.”

Finally.

“Mr. Lund, I don’t think—”

“Enough.” Johan’s jaw tightened. “This is a family matter and this boy needs some rest.” Johan tugged on my arm. “Come on, Derek.”

Family matter. I was family to Johan.

Aunt Frannie had stopped whimpering. She spoke more coherently. “Red, let’s go.”

I glanced up at Officer Di Paglio, but his eyes quickly strayed, and he nodded. “Okay. Go home, but I’ll be in touch in the next twelve hours.” His attention shifted to Johan’s face. “Before you go, I’d like to talk to you and Mrs. Saint-Jacques. Privately.”

Why? My heart pummeled my chest, and I shot Aunt Fran a nervous glance, fidgeting by the door. “Ca—can we go?”

“Yes, baby. Just a minute, okay? Why don’t you find Nicolas?” Her cheeks darkened as she said Nick’s name, and she and Johan exchanged a strange look.

Why?

Aunt Frannie gently pushed me out of the room. “He’s sitting in the ER, right by the coffee machine. He’s got your clothes.”

Cornered, I agreed. “Okay.”

I walked down the crowded hallway, with my gown coming undone in the back, and shuffled my feet, avoiding eye contact with anyone wearing white. When I passed a washroom, I stopped by the door. I had to see what I looked like.

Was that me in the mirror?

My nostrils were crusty. My lips were swollen and purple. It looked like I had a golf ball tucked under my left cheek. There was an imprint of my hand on the bottom of my neck.

I don’t know why I had to go and paint all this misery on my face. Bad enough I’m a redhead.

I ran the water and cleaned my nose, then slicked my hair down. Then I tied up my gown and took a deep breath.

Finding Nick didn’t seem like such a fantastic idea, after all, but he had my clothes and I needed those very badly, so I turned away from the mirror and walked slowly to the main waiting room.

There he was. Sleeping. Snoring, really. He was half falling out of his chair. His long legs were stretched over another chair, and this didn’t seem to please the old lady sitting by his feet. She kept staring at the hole in Nick’s sock. His big toe stuck out of it.

I chewed on my lip, debating, and looked around for my clothes. I found them quick enough. They were folded neatly. On Nick’s lap.

I tiptoed to him, trying to steady my heart, and carefully reached for my pants.

The old woman jerked in her chair. “Hey! What are you doing there, young man?”

I pressed a finger to my lips. “The—these clothes are mi—mine.”

Nick cracked an eye open and gave a startle. “Whoa, you f*****g scared me.” He ran a swift hand over his sleepy features and sat up. “O’Reilly, you’re so quiet, you’re deadly.”

I lifted the corners of my mouth, trying to smile. “So—sorry.”

“It’s cool. No worries.” Nick’s eyes moved over my bare legs. “Want your pants I guess, huh?”

“Yes, pl—please.”

“Here. ‘Fore you blind us all.”

I slipped them on right there. My shirt was dirty with blood, so I kept the gown on, but at least my bum wasn’t exposed anymore.

Nick stretched his arms and neck. “Sit down, O’Reilly. Sorry to say, but you look like shit.”

I obeyed and sat by him.

He looked around and sighed out explosively. “I f*****g hate hospitals.” He stuffed a hand into his front pocket, digging for something, and pulled out a Twinkie. It looked more like cake batter in a plastic bag, but my stomach gnawed regardless.

“Want some?”

I nodded.

He laughed. “Jesus. You really don’t say much, but tell you what. This here little s**t show you just pulled sure got everybody’s attention. I’ll give you that.” He unwrapped the package and slid the squashed mess out of it. “Here. Enjoy. See, you don’t even have to chew it.”

The first bite made my mouth water.

Nick sat back in the chair and let out a long breath.

I tried to keep my eyes on the TV beaming in the corner. The man on the screen was cutting wood with these special knifes and kept asking people to call in now. But, my eyes kept straying. To the right, then down. Nick’s thigh brushed mine. All I wanted was to lay my head on it. To rest my face against the bulge in his jeans.

Nurses were coming and going. Some man came in on a stretcher, but he didn’t look sick, on account of all his yelling and trashing. Police officers helped roll him down the hall. His bloody screams echoed for minutes.

Nick whistled. “Nut case.”

A giggle escaped my mouth.

Nick looked over at me. “Think that’s funny, huh?” His face turned serious. That ice storm blew through his eyes again. “Yeah well. You keep Jean-Claude van Damming your ass, and they’ll be rolling you down same as that guy. No?” He shook his head, running his tongue over his lips. “O’Reilly, keep pushin’ s**t down, it keeps floatin’ back up. Only uglier. Trust me. I know.”

My gaze found the TV again, and this time, my eyes didn’t stray. Officer Di Paglio told Nick I beat myself up. Yes, he did. C’est la vie.

My hands had begun pulsing again, around the knuckles. My lips seem to have a heartbeat of their own, and my chest was very sore. I tried ignoring the sensations, but with every breath, they only grew stronger. I sunk back into the chair, easing my body into a more comfortable position, but a moan had drifted out of my throat.

Nick looked over. “Don’t feel too hot, huh?”

I shrugged.

Something like a shadow moved through Nick’s eyes. “Your hand hurts.” He glanced around the room. Then his hand touched mine. I froze. Nick’s skin is warm and soft like my favorite fleece blanket. His fingers folded over mine, and he bent his face to my ear. “O’Reilly.” His whisper smelled like sugar. “There’s nothing wrong with who we are.”

I turned my face up to him. “I—”

“Sit tight.” His fingers left my hand, and he rose, found his boots, then slipped them on. He didn’t bother with the shoelaces. “I’m gonna score you some relief.”

Relief.

I need you. I need you. I need you.

Please. Talk to me. Hold my hand.

“Okay.” I watched him until he was out of sight.

Nick walks like he knows exactly where he’s going, but doesn’t know what he might do once he gets there.

Bump, that was four days ago. I haven’t seen Nick since then. No one wants to talk about it.

Everyone just keeps their head down.

David is gone, too.

Vanished.