Chapter Twenty-Six
Eli
I’m on some heavy painkillers. Trippy. Knee surgery was a success. Woo-hoo! I think that’s what they said, anyway. I was so out of it I can’t remember. Something about me having bionic knees. Something about being cleared to play by the time I get to college. No problem.
Damn. I’m going to college. I lie in my bed, high as a kite, thinking about what that means. First, no more Edinburgh High School. Which is fine. I had an okay time there, but I won’t miss it much as long as I get to keep playing lacrosse. Second, I don’t have a clue what I’m gonna do with my life. Going pro sounds fun, unless I’m not good enough. If I’m not, then what am I gonna do? I have no idea. What’s wrong with me that I have zero plans for the future? Probably ’cause I wet the bed until I was six.
Heh. It’s like I’m in therapy and the therapist is me!
I laugh and laugh.
I gotta pee.
“Don’t wet the bed, Costas,” I say. Out loud. I think I said it out loud, anyway.
The worst thing about going to college, to State, anyway, is this: no Nora. Because she’s going to Emory. I know she is. You know she is. We all know she is. After what I said to her, who can blame her? Not to imply that’s why she’s going. The real reason is: she’s so fucking smart. She’ll probably discover a cure for cancer first semester. Find the cure for—what? Something else really bad—second semester. What the hell am I gonna do without her?
These pills, they numb all sorts of pain. Not all of it, though. Not even close. I need some Nora-quil. That’s what I need.
I laugh about that for a really long time.
I should have kissed her. I should have taken her in my arms, leaned in, and said, fuck it, I don’t care if this is the worst kiss in the history of kissing, you can dump me again and again and again and I’ll kiss you again and again. It would be worth it!
Mom comes into my room without knocking, Ari at her side. “Honey, we brought a snack,” she says. She’s got a glass of water, and Ari’s holding a plate of something. I can’t tell what. They’re both kind of swaying in the doorway. I close my eyes.
“You ready to eat something?” Mom asks.
“Uhhh.” I groan. “No.”
My stomach’s been a wreck since I woke up from the surgery.
“I gotta pee.”
“Okay, honey.” Mom sounds worried. “Let’s get you up.”
Between the three of us, I get into the bathroom and do my business without passing out. I’m starting to come back to earth a little bit.
Mom props the pillows behind my head. “You want to watch some TV?”
“What do ya say, Ari?” Mom won’t let him sit on my bed, just in case my knee gets knocked around. He stiffens up, on the verge of getting upset. “SpongeBob?” I ask.
He relaxes some. “Yes.” He sounds relieved and grabs the remote while pulling up the desk chair. Mom leaves us alone while he finds the boating school episode, of course. It’s his favorite.
It’s also ironic because it makes me think of driving school, and Nora. Really, though, on these drugs, what doesn’t make me think of Nora?
“You doin’ okay?” I ask my brother.
He’s mesmerized by SpongeBob and doesn’t respond.
“Yo! Ari?”
He turns to me. “You’re gonna die, Eli.”
“No way, dude, not ever.”
He tilts his head, considering what I’ve said for a whole ten seconds. “Okay.” He still holds the plate in his hand, it’s a slice of pie and he’s eating it. “Where’d that come from?”
“Nora.”
“She brought it?” It’s black bottom, from the Tick Tock, I can tell.
He takes another bite, and chocolate smears on his upper lip. “No, her mom.”
I’m confused and scratch my chin. “So her mom brought it.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I check my phone, even though I’m still not exactly seeing straight. Texts from most of the team, wanting to know if I’ll live. Koviak, who’s still begging me to come to the bonfire on Thursday. Nothing from Nora.
Even if her mom brought it over, she probably suggested it, so it’s from her. Right? “Hey, yo.” I focus on Ari again. “That was supposed to be for me. Give me some.”
He grudgingly passes the plate, where there’s only about a third of the slice left. I don’t care. She brought me pie again. Somewhere in my painkiller-numb brain, knowing this makes me feel a whole lot better.
I wake up after a night of drug-induced, weird-ass dreams. The weirdest? Me, in full lacrosse gear, swimming in the ocean. I hear Nora calling out for me, and I can’t find her. I frantically flap through the water, trying to save her. When I find her, she’s already on shore, all like “I don’t need your help.” Tex is standing beside her, in hockey gear and a cowboy hat, which he tips to me.
I’m pissed the whole morning, and then I have to go to rehab, so things don’t get better. I still work hard for the physical therapist. It hurts bad, but I gotta get used to it. This injury was worse than the last time. Recovery’s going to take longer, and I gotta push hard. If I don’t, I won’t get to play for State, or maybe ever again. Intramurals maybe, or when I’m old and fat on some amateur league trying to relive my youth.
That afternoon, someone knocks on my bedroom door. Dad doesn’t wait for an answer, though—he just plows into my room.
“Eli!” he shouts, and I wait for him to yell at me for something. I haven’t done anything lately, but he’s a cop, so he could dig stuff up if he really tried.
I’m baffled right now, though, because he’s smiling.
“What?” I’m still waiting, wonder if he’s finally lost it, and this is his Jack Nicholson “Here’s Johnny,” The Shining moment. I sit up taller, ready for the ax to fall, thinking I must have done something really bad.
His grin widens. “You’ve been getting some calls from a Jacksonville number?”
“I don’t know.” I dig through my blankets for my phone that I tossed in here somewhere. I’ve been getting tons of texts, still none from Nora. There are also a few missed calls. “Yeah.” I hand him the phone. “I don’t know anyone in Jacksonville.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Well start picking up! I just got a call from one of the North Florida lacrosse coaches. He’s been trying to get in touch with you!”
“What? Why?”
Dad is hopping—legit hopping—up and down so hard he can’t speak.
I’m not getting any of this. Must be the drugs. “What? Dad? What did he say?”
“He said he wants to talk to you. He wants to talk about next year.” Dad’s trying to catch his breath, which makes him sorta sound like a really excited Darth Vader. “They need an attackman on the team. They want you!”
I shake my head and try to understand. “No. That’s impossible. I’m injured.”
Dad won’t stop hopping. “He doesn’t care. He had a scout at the Lake Mary game, and he’s seen films. He saw you play after you recovered last time. He knows you can come back. He’s willing to put you on the roster. I told him the doc said you should be good to go by the time the preseason starts. He’s interested, E, he’s interested! WHOOOOP!”
My Dad, most low-key guy on earth, is screaming like a middle school cheerleader. Mom comes running, Ari on her heels. “What’s wrong? What is it?” Her voice is high-pitched and panicked.
“Nothing!” Dad says, still jumping. “Your son! Is going! To the University of North Florida! The coach wants him!”
“Wait,” I say. Even though Mr. Chaffee told me to go ahead and get my hopes up, my hopes have spent the last week or so dashed to the ground. I think it’s smart to proceed with caution. “How could this happen? What about my grades?”
Dad keeps his feet on the ground, still smiling. “He said as long as you don’t blow this last semester—which you won’t—and retake the ACT—which you will—and improve your score, you can get in. He even said there might be some scholarship money if we jump right on it.”
“No!” Mom yells. Now she’s jumping up with him and also crying. Ari has his hands on his ears. Loud noises freak him out, but I can tell he knows this is a happy thing.
I can’t jump up and down. Plus I’m in shock. I think back to my hallway conversation with Mr. Chaffee, him telling me about his friend at UNF. Did he make this happen?
“Eli?” Mom stops and hits me with her worried face. “Honey, aren’t you happy? Is this what you want?”
Dad doesn’t give me a second to answer. “Hell yeah, this is what he wants!” He leans over me and messes up my hair.
I don’t know what to say. “Yeah, I’m happy. I just…”
I am happy. Really happy. Like I want to sound a barbaric yawp happy. But I don’t want to call Koviak or any of the other guys, or even Coach. My first instinct, always, good news or bad, is to tell Nora. My best friend. Used to be my best friend. Might have been more if I hadn’t been such a stupid jackass.
Mom lays her hand on my cheek. “Just what? What is it, Eli?”
I just want Nora.
Too bad I’ve ruined that. Ruined us.
Shit.