Chapter 24
“How's the spidersitting going?” Felix asks.
“Haven't died yet,” I say, and Jason Voorhees leaps out in his hockey mask and immediately slices me in half with a machete. “Spoke too soon.”
My phone rings. It's Dinah.
Before I can even say hello, she's screaming. “Why aren't we getting enough subscribers?”
“I don't know. You just started. Maybe it takes time,” I say. Maybe it takes a podcast worth subscribing to, also.
“Your generation is supposed to be all tech-savvy, so I don't understand why this is so difficult for you. We've got like one subscriber, and he's from Russia. Russia!”
“I don't know what else I can be doing.”
“Well, you better come home now and figure it out, or I'm going to fire you!” The line goes dead.
I look at Felix with my gotta-go eyes. “Good luck with that,” he says.
On my way out the door, I run into Mr. Alfaro and awkwardly wave goodbye. He stops me.
“What colleges are you applying to?”
“None that I know of.”
“So what are you going to do after graduation?” He looks at me skeptically, like I'm hiding something. I wonder if he found out about our California plan.
“I've got a media internship through my aunt, so my foot is already in the door for some positions in broadcast journalism,” I say, which is technically not a lie.
“Hmm. Well, good night,” he says, and opens the door for me.
Whew. I'm glad that didn't drag out for as long as it could have.
___________
Even after two weeks of chauffeuring Roland, I can barely get him to look at me, never mind utter a single word.
One time, when I'm picking up his medications, I peek inside the bag.
There's Lexapro, gabapentin, some suppositories, and lubrication.
I guess the suppositories and lube are for going to the bathroom. The Lexapro must be for depression.
I still try to initiate conversation here and there.
“Do the doctors know if you'll walk again?” I ask, hoping for a sign of life, but nada. I'm already starting to get sick of him.
“I was in the hospital for a while, too, when I was eleven. Had to go through physical therapy and a lot of the stuff you're doing,” I say. Still silence.
One day, on our way back to Oyster Pit, my eyes drift to an animated billboard and back to the road before I shake my head and look again.
The billboard shows the Loch Ness Monster sharing a Jacuzzi with Bigfoot and a bug-eyed alien, hanging out like old friends.
Above them hangs a banner for Nessie's Hot Tub, a convention for “truth seekers” that's coming to town on Halloween.
I start to pull out my phone to take a photo for Dinah, thinking that could be an excellent place for her and Clint to find some weirdos for their audience.
The flare of brake lights rips me out of my thoughts and the car in front of me slams to a halt.
I slam on my brakes and turn, swerving enough to barely miss the car but almost hitting the barrier on the side.
A bottle of water flies out of the cupholder and smacks Roland right in the face.
“Are you okay? I'm sorry about that,” I say.
Still the same blank-faced Roland.
“Can't you hear me?”
The image of him flying in the air floods my mind. Aubrey's cries ring in my ears.
(That's when it's coming right at you)
“I'm sorry, Roland. Don't you understand?” He takes a deep breath and exhales, then glances through the window. God, I hate him so much.
The next week, a few hours before I'm supposed to go see a new movie with Felix, I hear a crash from the living room when I enter the house to bring Roland his medicine.
He's on the floor, his fists tight, tears falling from his eyes.
He's surrounded by shattered glass. His parents are nowhere to be found.
He cries quietly. I can surmise he'll get in trouble for this. His parents aren't exactly laid-back.
“What happened?” I say, rushing to his side. I put my hand on his shoulder and he pushes it away.
“Look, I want to help you. Will you let me do that?”
I struggle to pick him up at first. He's still got an athletic build, so he's heavy. I latch on to him from behind, wrapping my arms under his and pulling him up into his wheelchair.
“Do you have superglue?” I ask, but he doesn't even physically respond. I'm so tired of this. I ransack the drawers nearby until I find an unopened tube of Gorilla Glue.
When I put enough of the big pieces of glass back together, I spot a signature in cursive: his brother. This is something his brother made in an art class. Roland must have been holding it for some reason.
I take an hour to glue the vase back together and put it back on the table in a way that the cracks aren't so visible.
“It's done,” I tell Roland. “Your parents won't notice. At least not for now.”
He stares at the floor. You're welcome, I guess?
I take a moment to think. I waver between saying what I'm thinking or staying quiet so I don't dig myself into a hole. The silence becomes unbearable.
“Listen, I'm going to a movie in a bit. It's a dumb monster movie called Ratoppotamus. Why don't you come with me?”
Roland still breathes heavily.
“As a way to relax. You don't have to say or do anything. Only watch the movie. You might even laugh at how stupid it is,” I say.
He still stares off into space. I kneel down to his level, making firm eye contact with him, and I tap his shoulder.
“Roland. I'm asking you to come see a movie with me. I would love it if you did. I think you would, too.” I hate talking to him like he's a two-year-old, but I don't know what's going on in his brain or how else to communicate.
Roland still doesn't look at me, but from the side of his face I can see his eyes shift their focus from straight ahead to the ground. His head tilts back a little, and he gives a slow nod.
“Okay? That's great. I'm so happy right now. Let me text your mom and we'll go,” I say.
As I drive to the theater, I'm brimming with positive emotions.
This will be good for Roland, and hopefully even a step—er, a movement in the right direction for him.
As long as he can make another face that doesn't look like he saw a ghost, at least. Even better, Felix will see that I'm capable of righting this wrong and reassess my character.
Sure, he might be unpleasantly surprised to see Roland, but once I explain what I'm doing, he'll warm up to it.