Chapter Four
Krista, as it turned out, made a decent girlfriend. Sure, she talked a lot, but when Tim did have something to say, she listened with rapt attention. She laughed at all his jokes and was so slender that she made Tim feel as big as Bryce. He liked that. He also appreciated that she had none of Carla’s meanness. Occasionally she could be a bitch, but only when she was following someone else’s lead, usually Stacy’s.
Mostly she was just as happy and dumb as the doe he first pictured her as. Like today, when he hadn’t been in the mood for company. Instead of driving to school, he had walked. He forgot to tell her until the end of the day. When he mentioned he was jogging home, she didn’t mind having to find a ride. Carla would have chewed his head off, but Krista simply went with the flow.
Tim was starting to realize she was safe. As he ran along the bike path on the way home, the fabric of his shorts feeling good against his package as it bounced around, Tim considered taking things further with her. He couldn’t be celibate his whole life, just because of what happened in Kansas. Krista didn’t seem the type to spread lies. With his parents out of town for the next two weeks, now was the perfect opportunity to get—
Boom!
Weight slammed into Tim from behind, knocking him off the path. Unfortunately, this particular path ran along a drainage ditch, a deep ravine which left him nowhere to go but down. Tim tumbled, rolling over and over, thankful that the ditch was grass and dirt and not hard concrete—until he skipped into the air at the end and landed on one leg with a crunch.
Pain! It seared up from his leg and into the rest of his body, his brain burning as he swore out loud. He managed to roll off the leg, easing his suffering, and raised the limb into the air. Blood covered one shin. As bad as that hurt, the source of the worst pain throbbed from further down.
Tim carefully lowered his leg, putting pressure on it. A fresh wave of hurt washed over him. This wasn’t good.
“Oh, god! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Someone slid down into the drainage ditch with him. Whoever it was, they were to blame!
“What the hell happened?” Tim spat.
“I don’t—I’m just a klutz.”
The guy acted like he was going to pick Tim up and carry him to safety, which was ridiculous because he was so scrawny that Krista could probably take him in a fight. In fact, he looked familiar. They went to the same school, if Tim wasn’t mistaken.
“Is your leg broken?”
“Leg’s fine,” Tim looked back at it. “It’s my ankle that’s jacked.”
The guy dropped to his knees to examine it, like he could fix it with a little tape and glue. Tim stared. Now he recognized him! Benjamin Bentley, shameless homosexual and brave glarer at Bryce. He had inline skates on his feet, which presumably had propelled him into Tim.
“We have to get you to a doctor,” Ben said. “Can you walk?”
Tim tried putting weight on his leg. Even though the worst of the pain had receded, walking on it now would bring it all back again. “You’re going to have to help me.”
“Wait.” Ben flopped on to his rump and started undoing his skates.
Tim watched him work. There wasn’t really anything feminine about him. Aside from being a little small he looked just like any other guy. Except apparently he couldn’t skate without leaving behind a wake of destruction. With the skates finally off, Ben dug in his backpack and pulled out a pair of shoes. Jesus, how long was this going to take?
“Right.” Finally dressed for the occasion, Ben stood. “How do we do this?”
Tim looked up the hill he had fallen down. “You pull me up there, I guess.”
“Pull you how?”
Ugh! Tim would die down here before he got this guy to do anything. “Just grab me under the arms and pull. I’ll help as much as I can.”
Ben scuttled behind him, and Tim lifted his arms. After another uncertain pause, Ben’s arms hooked beneath his and pulled. Tim moved half an inch. Maybe. Now he was sure Krista could win that brawl. Ben pulled again, and this time Tim kicked with his good foot. Now they were getting somewhere! After some grunting and no doubt a ton of grass stains on his backside, they made it to the top.
They both panted from the effort before Tim asked for help standing up. Ben handled this much better. Soon Tim had an arm draped over Ben’s shoulder for support. His ankle was still too sensitive for any pressure. Tim could kind of hop along with assistance, but it was slow going.
“Okay.” Tim sighed. “I guess we make it to the nearest house and have them drive me home.”
“Your house is really close if we cut through the trees there.”
Tim tensed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? If Ben had only known his name, Tim wouldn’t have been surprised. That was one of the perks of being popular. But how could Ben know where he lived?
“Let’s go, then,” Tim said. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could forget this had happened.
Ben held tightly to him as they made their way through the trees, and for a moment Tim imagined himself being led to some pit dug in the woods where no one would see him again. Instead they reached a privacy fence. Left and right, that’s all there was—one long row of fences.
“Fuck,” Tim swore. “How much further would it be if this fence wasn’t here?”
Ben looked away, ashamed at having been called out. “Half a block.”
Tim hopped toward the fence and grabbed its top. If they couldn’t get around it, they would go through it. “Support me,” he said. Tim yanked on the plank, muscles flexing with effort. Ben grabbed him just as the board came loose. Cheaply built, the fence only had two nails holding it in place. The plank fell to one side, so he worked another free, and then a third. Now they had plenty of room to squeeze through. If the owners saw them and came running, at least they could give Tim a ride the rest of the way home.
As it turned out, the place was empty, not having been lived in yet. They were close to his neighborhood, all right. In fact, when they made it to the street, Tim saw they were just a few houses away.
“Which one is yours?” Ben asked.
“You tell me,” Tim snapped. A little late to play coy, stalker boy. He glared at Ben, who was staring at the ground, cheeks red. The rest of his skin had a nice tan, the edges of his blond hair bleached platinum from the sun. Tim’s hair never changed color like that. A sheen of sweat covered Ben’s upper lip, either from the heat or the exertion of supporting him. Was it the pain that rendered everything in such stark detail? Maybe they should head to the studio instead. Tim watched in fascination as Ben’s mouth formed a sentence.
“Is anyone home?”
“No.”
“Then shouldn’t we drive straight to the hospital?”
Which would involve his parents being called, and them being angry with him, like last time. Tim turned his attention back to the goal. “I just need to take the weight off my leg.”
The front door was unlocked, the cold air inside already feeling good on his ankle. Thank god for air conditioning! Tim had left the curtains closed last night to keep the house cool. By this time of year, Kansas was usually dropping hints about fall, but summer seemed to reign eternal in Texas.
He flipped a light switch and headed for the couch in his mother’s living room. That’s how he thought of it, since it was just as flowery and dainty as his father’s den was masculine. After lowering himself to the couch, wincing with every inch, he told Ben to fetch a washcloth and first aid kit from the bathroom. Once he got his leg cleaned up, it should be a lot easier to see the damage.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Ben held out a washcloth and a little first aid kit. “Or call a doctor at least?”
“No need. Same thing happened to me freshman year.” And that was the other reason Tim wasn’t interested in football. “I still have a brace upstairs. A couple of days with that on, and I’ll be fine.”
Ben was staring at him with saucer-sized eyes overflowing with guilt. “It’s just—”
Tim cut him off. “Thanks for helping me get home.” Ben took the hint. Well, first he apologized about ten more times, but then he finally headed for the door. Tim was about to sigh in relief when Ben turned around.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right? When do your parents get back?”
“In about two weeks. They’re in Switzerland.” Tim worked on wrapping a cloth bandage around his shin. He made sure not to look up again until he heard the front door close. Then he leaned back on the couch and sighed.
What a weirdo.
Tim sat there, breathing deeply and forcing himself to remain calm. The pain receded a little, but seemed to have reached its minimum level, which unfortunately still hurt like hell. Last time the doctor gave him pills that not only killed the pain but made him feel drunk. Some of those would be good about now.
Tim sat upright. The movers had packed absolutely everything. Maybe that included old prescriptions. Unless things had changed, his mother kept those in a kitchen cabinet. Tim considered several ways he could get there. Finally he sat on the floor and used his three good limbs to move himself backward. That way his leg could drag along the floor without getting hurt. In theory. His ankle still bumped against things and made him suffer for it, but Tim got to the kitchen, pulled himself up on one of the counters, and opened cabinet after cabinet.
His reward was a vintage bottle of pills from 1993. After grabbing a Coke from the fridge, he doubled the recommended dose, chugged them down with half the soda, and started back to the couch. It was that or lay on the kitchen floor. When he made it to the living room, he noticed the clock. He had spent half an hour doing what would normally take a minute. Those pills better work miracles, or he was royally screwed.
In a way, they sort of did. Soon Tim was feeling pretty damn good. His body thrummed with pleasure, even though the pain was still there below the surface. Trying to stand brought the pain back with a vengeance and had him shrieking until he sat down again. Then the opiate haze resumed, soothing him, but he clearly needed help. Tim lay on the couch, wondering what to do and zoning out occasionally until the doorbell rang.
Help had come! He heard the front door open before someone said, “Hello?”
Crap. It sounded like Ben. Then again, help was help. “Hey,” he shouted. “Come in!”
Sure enough, Ben came in the room, still looking guilt-ridden. “Good that you’re here,” Tim said, hoping to bolster his spirits. He needed action, not more apologies “The ankle might be worse than I thought.”
“Yeah.” Ben held up a thick tome with a diagram of human anatomy on the cover. “I think you have a third-degree sprain. Either that or it’s broken. You really need to get to a hospital.”
Tim didn’t need a book to tell him that. He kept a straight face and said as solemnly as possible, “Probably should.”
“Er, I know this is a really stupid question, but are you all right?”
“Yeah. After you left I dragged my ass into the kitchen and remembered some pills from last time. They’ve got me feeling…” Floaty? Cosmic? Rainbow flowery? “Oh man,” he said instead.
“I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No, fuck that. I’m not dying or anything. We’ll take my car. You can drive, right?”
“Um… Yes?”
“Well, get me up and we’ll be on our way.”
Setting aside the book and approaching the couch, Ben wrapped an arm around his back. He was still warm from being outside, and his touch felt good on Tim’s cold skin. Lying on the couch for so long in his jogging clothes probably hadn’t been the best idea, but soon they were standing outside in the heat.
“Actually,” Tim said when he saw his beloved car, “just get me seated and I’ll drive.”
“With one foot?”
“Yes,” Tim said slowly. “That’s usually how it’s done.”
Ben shook his head. “You’re too doped up.”
“And you can’t rollerblade without killing someone,” he countered.
“You’re not dead yet,” Ben said defiantly.
Tim laughed. This guy really was crazy. “All right, fine. You can drive. But be careful.” He wasn’t laughing for long. As soon as he was in the passenger seat, Tim braced himself for disaster. He even flinched when Ben jammed the key into the ignition, as if he could make the car explode just by doing this. Instead, the engine growled like it always did.
Tim relaxed into the seat, but his repose didn’t last for long. Ben drove like he was in a dream, Tim suffering the experience like a nightmare. Ben made casual conversation, twisting the wheel at the last second to avoid bikers, pedestrians, or oncoming traffic. Maybe an ambulance would be taking him to the hospital after all, but only after Ben wrecked his car. Now it was all too clear how he had managed to crash into Tim while rollerblading.
By some miracle, they reached the hospital without creating extra victims to bring with them. Ben pulled up to the emergency entrance, where he jumped out of the car and snagged a wheelchair. That was a welcome convenience. Once inside, Tim expected a team of concerned doctors and nurses to rush him down hallways on a gurney, like they do in the movies. Instead they sat in a waiting room with other despondent souls and struggled with paperwork.
When a nurse finally called his name, Ben wheeled Tim into another room… where they waited some more. But first she and Ben helped Tim onto the examination table. He was getting sick of being so helpless. The nurse took his vital signs and promised the doctor wouldn’t be long.
Tim sighed and glared at his ankle. “Can’t you do that thing where you twist it real fast, I scream, and then I’m miraculously better?”
“That’s only for dislocated bones,” Ben said, “but I can give it a try anyway.”
“Nah. Better not. So what did that big medical book of yours say? Think I’ll need a cast?”
“Honestly, they’ll probably just amputate.”
“What?”
Ben exhaled. “I’m afraid there’s no other option, but just think how cool your new peg leg will be. I hear the pirate look is all the rage in Europe right now. A frilly shirt and an eye patch, and you’ll be the most popular guy in school.”
Tim considered the idea. “Do I get a parrot?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ve got a deal.”
Ben’s expression grew somber. “Seriously, though. You’re going to be okay.”
“Thanks, Doogie Howser,” Tim retorted. “I’m not really scared for my life, you know.”
“Sorry. I just feel so guilty.”
“Don’t start that again!” Tim shifted, the paper beneath his butt crinkling. Ben had really loosened up on the drive over, and kept flashing smiles that caught Tim’s eye. Those teeth were perfect, lined up like little soldiers that saluted him every time he tried to be funny. Something about that smile made Tim want to be wittier than he’d ever been before, and oddly, that pressure made finding the right words so much harder.
They were quiet for a moment. Then Ben nodded at the exam table. “Why do they always put paper down? It’s so weird.”
“No kidding. I figure it’s for sanitary reasons, but how many naked people show up at the ER?”
Ben laughed. “Huh?”
“You know. Most people sit here in their clothes, so I don’t see how they could get the table messy.”
“Unless a lot of people wet themselves.” Ben suggested thoughtfully. “Or worse.”
“Yuck!”
“Who knows how many years of fecal matter have soaked through the paper to stain the exam table?” Ben’s grin was wicked. “I dare you to pull the paper back and lick the spot where you’re sitting.”
“Dude! Shut up!” Tim laughed, even though he was repulsed. “You’re crazy, Benjamin!”
“It’s Ben.”
“Yeah,” Tim said, wiping tears from his eyes, “but Benjamin is better.”
“Better?”
Tim shrugged. “It’s a nice name.”
Ben didn’t respond, an awkward silence trying to ruin their fun. Tim didn’t want their banter to end. Talking to Ben felt good, maybe because if Tim screwed up, it wouldn’t count against him like it would with his friends. He wasn’t sure how to jumpstart their conversation again, but thankfully a distraction walked in the door and introduced himself as Dr. Baker. The doctor barely needed to look at the ankle to see what was wrong. Ben’s diagnosis seemed to be right. Most likely they were looking at a class three sprain. Tim would need X-rays and probably a cast so it would heal right. He could live with all of that. The words Tim really dreaded came next.
“I’ll need to inform your parents about this, of course.”
“They’re in Switzerland.” Right now it was probably late there. Tim could imagine them being awakened in the middle of the night and told they needed to come back home.
“Any other family in the area?” the doctor asked.
“Nope.”
Ben piped up. “My family can take care of him until they’re back.”
Tim raised his head. Was he serious? If Tim could avoid ruining his parents’ trip, he would get a lot less grief.
Dr. Baker was less enthused by the idea. With no family to look out for him, Tim would have to stay in the hospital overnight. It was getting pretty late anyway, so that wasn’t a big deal.
“I have to get home,” Ben said. “Can I pick him up tomorrow?”
“I suppose,” Dr. Baker replied. “Could you please bring the phone number of his parents’ hotel with you? Or better yet, phone it in tonight?”
“Absolutely.”
What was Ben playing at? He didn’t have access to their number—unless he used the keys still in his pocket. “Wait, you’re taking my car?”
“It’s not like you can use it,” Ben said cheerfully. “See you tomorrow, tiger.”
“You know,” Tim said to the doctor after Ben had left, “I’m starting to think he did this to me on purpose.”
“Must be a nice car to go through all this trouble,” Dr. Baker said, helping Tim back into the wheelchair.
“It is,” Tim murmured, “but it might not be in the best shape when I get it back.”