Koa Age 14
I paced back and forth on the muddy bank of the river. Where was he? He knew that if he missed school, he had to come here after, just so I knew he was okay. I had been here for nearly an hour and still no Riot.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time, and there were no messages from him.
Had something happened to the pay-per-minute phone I’d bought him to use with my allowance I’d saved up so he could call me if there was an emergency?
Had his mom or her boyfriend found it? I didn’t dare call it myself in case he’d forgotten to put it on silent or something.
His mom sometimes sold everything she could find, and I didn’t want to be the reason he lost his only way to call for help.
All the worst-case scenarios were running through my head. Riot wouldn’t just not show up, unless it was really bad. He’d promised me, and he never broke his promises. This one, especially, was too important.
I waited five more minutes before I gave up. Riot had told me never to come to his house, but this was an exception, right? I couldn’t just go back to Aunt Leilani’s without knowing he was okay.
My bike was where I’d left it, lying on its side right outside the brush. I quickly picked it up and headed to the other side of town, where Riot’s trailer was.
I’d never pedaled so hard in my life, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really, really wrong.
I ignored all the looks as I entered the trailer park. They didn’t like outsiders coming in, but I didn’t care. None of them seemed to give a crap about what was happening at Riot’s, so why should I give a crap about them?
Riot’s trailer was toward the back. Even though I’d never been inside, I knew which one it was. Riot had shown me and made sure I remembered. “Just in case,” he’d said. But he wouldn’t tell me what that meant.
I dropped my bike in the overgrown weeds and climbed up the two rickety steps to the door. That was when I hesitated. Should I knock? I didn’t want his mom or one of her boyfriends to answer. I pressed my ear to the flimsy wood, but I couldn’t hear anything. Maybe I should see if it was unlocked?
Before I could make a decision, the door swung open. Knox was standing there, wearing Spider-Man pajamas. He was six now, and I’d come to really like the kid. Riot usually had him and his two-year-old sister, Wynter, with him.
Before I could say anything, Knox broke out in sobs. “Koa!” Then he threw himself at me, his little arms wrapping around my legs.
“Hey, little man. What’s going on?” I gently pulled him off me and guided him into the house. Once the door was closed, I knelt so I was eye level with him.
Knox wiped his face. “Riot’s sick. He keeps falling asleep, and his voice sounds funny. He didn’t even take me to school today.”
Fuck, that wasn’t good. “Where’s Wynter?” I asked, because as badly as I wanted to see him, I knew Riot would want me to find her first.
“Mrs. Leighman came and picked her up. Riot called and asked her to before he fell asleep again.” She was one of their neighbors who would watch Wynter when Riot was in school.
I always had questions about her, because she had to know at least a little bit about what was going on, right?
But she never intervened as far as I knew.
When I’d tried to ask Riot about it, he’d gotten all quiet, so I’d stopped bringing it up.
It pissed me off that she hadn’t made sure Riot was alright, or at least taken Knox too, but I didn’t want to upset Knox by pushing it. I shook my head. “And your mom?”
Knox shrugged. Alright, good enough.
“Can I see Riot please?” I asked. Knox might’ve been only six, but he was insanely protective of his big brother already. I didn’t want to upset him by pushing past him or demanding to see Riot.
He nodded, eyes big. Knox took my hand and led me through the small living room, with a stained couch missing a cushion, and to a room with the door closed. I winced when I saw the fist-sized hole in it.
“Riot?” Knox whispered. “Koa’s here.”
There was no answer. He pushed the door open. There was one mattress sitting on the floor. It wasn’t a big bed, smaller than mine, but the room was so tiny it took up about half of it. Crammed next to it was a crib. This was where they were sleeping? Did Knox and Riot share a bed?
Riot moaned in pain and my eyes immediately snapped to him. He was curled up on the mattress, back to us, with an old quilt wrapped around him.
I took the couple steps to him and fell to my knees.
“Riot?” My voice was quiet and shaky. I reached my hand out to touch him but stopped myself. I didn’t want to hurt him more than he already was.
“Riot?” I asked a little louder. “It’s me, Koa. Can you turn around for me?”
I didn’t think he would respond, and at first he didn’t. I could only tell he was awake by the way his body got all still when he heard me.
“Knox is worried about you. And—” I added after a beat, “so am I.”
Riot grunted. “Knox . . . okay?” His voice sounded funny—the kid had been right. What had happened?
“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s right here. Can I see your face, please?”
Riot turned slowly. At first, I couldn’t see anything wrong with him. Besides the fact that he was in pain and was wincing at the dim light. Then I saw the blood on his pillow.
“Shit, you’re bleeding!”
“Yeah . . . hit the corner of the cabinet with my head. Hurts.”
Shit. What did I do? I’d been playing football since I’d been five. I knew what a concussion looked like, and I was pretty sure Riot had one. Did I call my aunt? 911?
“C-can I see? Where you’re bleeding?” If he needed stitches, I’d have to call someone.
Riot would be mad. He’d begged and begged that I never tell anyone about what was going on at home, because they’d take the little ones away from him.
So I hadn’t. I knew it was wrong, but I’d kept my promise to him.
I always would. Also, selfishly, if Riot was taken away, then I didn’t know if I would ever see him again.
Riot turned his head, showing me the gash on the back of it. It was sticky with dried blood, his hair matted into the wound.
“I’m gonna touch it, okay? It might hurt.”
“Mm-hmm.” His eyes were closing again.
The blood was tacky, but I didn’t think it was still bleeding. That was good, right? Shit, what the hell would I know? I pulled out my phone, Googling how to help.
Clean the wound. Right. Okay. I knew that. I’d gotten hurt before. That was the first thing they always did. This wound was kinda old now, but it should work the same, I hoped.
“Hey, Knox?” I asked, turning around to the kid who was still standing there, watching us with those big eyes of his. “Do you guys have a clean towel I could use?”
“Um, yeah.” He pointed to a stack of plastic bins shoved against the wall.
“Can you get one and wet the corner of it for me?”
“Y-yeah.” Knox ran off to the bins and pulled out a worn blue towel. He left the room then.
He came back a few minutes later. The side he’d wet was dripping, but that was okay.
“I’m gonna clean this out,” I told Riot softly. “It might hurt. But I gotta see the wound. Plus, you don’t want it to get infected.”
“M’kay.” The word was slurred.
I was super gentle, but Riot still flinched as I touched the back of his head.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Gotta do this.”
I was being as soft as I could, but I had to move the matted hair away, so as much as I tried, I couldn’t stop it from hurting. Still, after a long time, I finally got it cleaned out enough that I could see it.
The gash was long, but it wasn’t that deep. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Okay. That was good. Did that mean he didn’t need stitches? God, I hoped I wasn’t screwing this all up.
“Knox, do you know if you got cream or something?” He blinked at me.
“If you get a cut, does Riot put anything on it to help make it better?” Knox’s eyes widened.
“Oh yeah! We got something!” He was smiling, probably glad to help as he ran back to the plastic bins.
The bottom one was filled with those metal cookie tins, the kind old people used as sewing kits.
I wondered what was in them. Knox pulled out a red one and handed it to me.
I opened it, smiling at the small first-aid kit. Of course Riot would have this stuff. I found a tube of off-brand antiseptic cream and quickly applied some to the cut. Riot’s eyes were closed now, but he whimpered a little.
“It’s okay, Ri. We’re almost done. It’ll be better soon.” I hoped I was telling the truth.
Once it was as good as it could get, I packed up the kit and put it back. Then I came and stood by the bed, staring down at Riot.
“Knox, do you know where Riot keeps the phone I gave him?”
“Yup. He told me. He showed me how to call you. But I’m only allowed to do it in really, really bad emergencies.” I messed up the kid’s hair.
“Awesome. If Riot starts getting sicker, I need you to use that phone and call me, alright? That would be a really bad emergency.”
Knox’s eyes widened even more and he chewed on his lip. “How would I know?”
I thought about how to explain it. “Um, if he starts throwing up and can’t stop. Or if you try to wake him and he won’t open his eyes. Or if he can’t speak anymore. Or if he starts bleeding again. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yeah. Riot won’t get mad?”
“No, buddy, he won’t. You’ll be helping him.”
“Okay. I want to help.”
“I know you do.”
I should go. Aunt Leilani would probably be asking where I was soon. And I didn’t want Riot’s mom to come home and find me here. But it felt so wrong to leave. I knelt next to the mattress and brushed Riot’s hair out of his face.
“Ri,” I whispered. “I gotta leave.”
He didn’t open his eyes, but he shook his head. It must’ve hurt, though, because he flinched. “No, please don’t.”
Shit. “Ri, I gotta.”
“Please, Koa. Need you.”
Those were the magic words. They always would be.
“Yeah, okay. For a little bit.” I climbed onto the mattress. There was barely enough room for both of us, but we managed. I lay facing him, unsure what I should do. Then Riot reached out and took my hand.
It felt so good in mine and made my heart race. I’d thought about it before, holding Riot’s hand, but had been too scared to say anything. I didn’t think he even realized what he’d done, just held on. Soon, his body relaxed and Riot fell asleep for real. I didn’t move. Not for a long time.