Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
My throat feels like crap. It feels like Thomas ran his Tonka truck all up and down and round and round on the inside. I also can’t breathe out of my nose.
I open my eyes to check the time, then close them. My eyes feel hot.
I’m going to be late for school. I know the rules.
So, I pull my feet to the edge of the bed. It’s hard, like harder than carrying Thomas and Timothy on my back at the same time, and my heart pounds by the time I sit up. Getting my clothes on is just as hard, and I have to sit on the bed a few times.
“Maddox!” Mom screams from downstairs. “Hurry.”
I can’t brush my teeth today. I’m sure I’ll get spanked for it, but I think I’ll curl up on the floor and not move again. I need the medicine in the tall cabinet by the fridge.
By the time I make it downstairs, my siblings are all in the car. Mom is running around, grabbing their stuff.
“Get in the car!” She sounds like she’s one wrong move away from getting the stick out.
“Can you help me get the medicine?” The second the words are out of my mouth, I know they’re wrong. Mom gives me a narrowed stare that makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Get in the car, or so help me, I’ll beat you into tomorrow.”
I try to swallow, but it makes my throat feel like it’s ripping. I shouldn’t have asked her. I’ll get it myself. Only, it feels so high up, and I don’t know if I can do it.
“Get. In. The. Car.” She’s in my face now, grinding her words together, and I feel the hot tears in my eyes.
It’s a mistake, but I let a tear fall.
Mom explodes, yelling and throwing my backpack at me. It hits me in the chest, knocking the breath out of my lungs, and for a second, I can’t breathe. I stand there, trying to breathe. Holy fudge, I can’t breathe. And then finally, I suck in a tiny breath. I wheeze, trying again.
“You always make things so fucking hard. Now get in the fucking car!”
“I…can’t…reach.”
“You don’t help me, so why should I help you? Now get in the goddamn car.”
And so I do. And at school, when they try to send me to the nurse’s office, I tell them I’m fine. Why does it matter? I’m fine. I’ll be fine.
I don’t need help.
“Nippy isn’t breathing.” My sister Chloe rushes into my room as I build my giant panda LEGO set. There are tears shining on her cheeks.
“What?” I stare at her, and it takes a second for the words to register. Nippy. Not breathing. I shoot up and dart to the cage where we keep our sugar gliders. Nippy is on the top shelf on his side. His belly is going up and down, but it’s really fast.
My own breathing gets really fast, and my chest pounds. What’s wrong with him? Gently, I open the cage.
“Hey there, cute boy.” I pet him with one finger as carefully as I can. Usually, he licks me. Today, he doesn’t even move.
It feels like I can’t breathe, and suddenly, the room is dim. Did Chloe turn the lights off?
“Call Dad.”
Something is wrong. Nippy needs to go to the vet.
Chloe hesitates.
“Get him!” Dad works the night shift, and he’s never okay with us waking him up, but I’ve never seen Nippy like this.
“He’s going to yell…”
“I’ll do it.” I stand, darting past her and to Dad’s room. Right before the door, a wash of a scary feeling fills me as I hear the sound machine under the door. The rule is, unless someone’s dying, you never wake Dad on the weekends. But someone might be dying.
I knock.
Nothing.
I knock again, tummy hurting.
“What?” Dad sounds tired.
“It’s Nippy. Something’s wrong.”
There’s a pause. He doesn’t answer.
“Dad, I think he needs to go to the vet.”
Nothing. Did he hear me? My heart races.
“Dad?”
“What?” he roars.
My eyes fill with tears. “Nippy needs to go to the vet! I think he’s dying.”
“Animals die, son. Now let me sleep.”
For a second, I just stand there, the same feeling I got with Lola washing over me. Lola was our turtle. She got really sick and stopped eating, and my parents wouldn’t take her to the vet. Said it was too expensive. Lola died in my hands.
So, even though my tummy feels cold, I knock again. I can’t let Nippy become like Lola.
There’s a pause, then the thump of feet. The back of my neck feels weird, like someone is right behind me, and I back away from the door. He’s going to beat me for this.
The door rips open, and Dad is there. He hisses, “What’s the fucking rule?”
I swallow, but it hurts; my throat is dry. Dad’s eyes look weird. They look black instead of their usual blue. The more I don’t answer, the more I feel like running. But I can’t run; Nippy’s in trouble.
“Don’t wake you up,” I whisper, but it sounds shaky. I sound scared.
His hand snaps out and grabs my shoulder. Hard. “Then fucking stop.”
He’s squeezing so hard my shoulder feels hot where his fingers are digging in. I freeze. I can’t move, or it’ll hurt more. It already feels like he’s reaching through me.
“Okay,” I say.
Then he lets go and slams the door.
Tears fill my eyes. Tears. I’m crying like a baby, and I’m not a baby.
I sniffle them up.
Maybe if I get enough money, Dad will say yes.
But how do I get money? I go through ideas like I’m flipping through my baseball cards, except my fingers are sweaty and I keep dropping them. I’ve been saving for a while, but I only have twelve dollars.
Wait. Lemonade stand! I think we have some in the cabinet.
I rush to check, and sure enough, there’s a container of lemonade mix.
I yell for Chloe to come help me, explain my idea, and she starts asking me a million questions.
I know she’s scared, but I don’t know what to say.
Do I tell her it’ll be okay? What if it isn’t?
I lug everything to the driveway and wait. It has to be okay. This will help. I repeat it over and over. This will help.
By the time the sun goes down, we’ve had a few people who stop.
Chloe puts on a show for them, as she always does.
She’s a sweet, sensitive little ray of sunshine.
And it works; she grins, says she likes their clothes, and exuberantly points at her dress with excavators on it.
They think she’s super cute and pay us more than the dollar we’re asking.
When the sun is almost down, an older lady stops and hands over a twenty-dollar bill. The old lady smiles and waves us off. “Keep it.”
My mouth almost drops open. Twenty dollars?
But the lady is driving off.
For a moment, my chest feels less heavy. This is crazy! We might be able to do this.
Rushing back into the house with Chloe following, I see Dad getting dinner ready, hair messed up.
“Dad!” Chloe yells. “Dad, look!”
I run faster. Chloe’s charm might work on strangers, but when Dad’s in a mood, it only pisses him off more.
“Dad.” I run up, breathless, shoving the money at him. “I have twelve more dollars in my room. We can go.”
He gives me a confused look.
“Nippy.” My heart is racing. Why isn’t he getting his shoes on?
Chloe is jumping up and down in the background, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her do a cartwheel.
Dad glances at the change in my hands, then up at me. “Do you have any idea how much the vet costs?”
I stare at him.
Dad snorts. “It’s like half my paycheck, especially if something is wrong. Then it could be my entire paycheck.”
I blink.
“It’s not enough, son.”
That wave of tears that’s been welling up behind my eyes gets hot. Not enough? But this is all I have.
“Please.” I don’t ask for much. I need this.
Dad turns back to the stove. “Can’t afford it.”
The anger is back, but I don’t want a spanking. I turn away. If we can’t afford animals, why do we get them? It’s not fair!
I turn to see Chloe there, frowning at me. She looks confused, and when she sees my face, her own falls.
“It’ll be okay,” I tell her. I don’t know what else to say. I hear the little shuffle of her feet as she follows me to the room.
“What’s happening?”
“I’m just going to check on him.” Chloe tries to follow me, but I block her.
“Wait!” She sounds panicked, like she does when we watch scary movies. I feel like that too, but I have to keep a brave face.
“It’ll be fine.” I lock her out of the room, which is silent. When I go to check on Nippy, he hasn’t moved, and I know. I already know. I know he’s gone.
Trying to swallow is like trying to swallow a handful of rocks. For a minute, the feeling threatens to overwhelm me, then I remember the look on Dad’s face. The way his mouth turned down, and his eyes were dark. Like he hates me.
I pull in a shuddering breath. I shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have done anything. It didn’t help. No one can help when bad things happen. It’s just how it goes.