This is What I Did Page 5

  That night I slept almost twenty-four hours.

  Almost all Saturday.

  I’ve done that before and I could sleep longer if Mom would let me.

  Back in seventh grade I called Cami once.

  Actually twice.

  Three times.

  But I usually hung up.

  But she had caller ID and once she called back.

  I said I wanted to know about an assignment in math because we had that together.

  Cami: What did you want to know?

  Me: It’s about exponents.

  Cami: I don’t know so much about them.

  Me: Oh.

  Cami: Is that it?

  Me: I don’t know.

  Cami: Well, I better go.

  Me: Yeah. I have to too.

  Sometimes I think about everything and

  I

  Am

  So

  Sorry.

  At play practice I usually just stand on the sides.

  I don’t have any lines or anything but I still have to go because everyone has to go to the big rehearsals.

  The private ones for Wendy and Peter Pan and John and Captain Hook happen after the big ones or during lunch.

  When it’s my turn to come on, a bunch of us come out of a tree — it’s not there yet — and we run around Peter and sing with him.

  It’s sort of dumb, but then I sort of like it too.

  One rehearsal Ms. March said: Okay, okay, everyone. We need some volunteers to work on the set. The crew is behind and the tree house is a disaster — no offense, Sam [Sam’s in charge of the set].

  Sam: It’s okay.

  Ms. March: Mr. Jeffries volunteered to start over on a tree house if we can finagle a special team. Are there any volunteers?

  The cast:

  Ms. March: Anyone?

  The cast:

  Then Laurel raised her hand.

  Ms. March: Thank you, Laurel. Now who else?

  I didn’t really want to volunteer. I mean, the rehearsals alone were taking way too much time and everything.

  But I raised my hand.

  Ms. March: Okay, and Logan. Good. We need about two more.

  Three more guys and one girl volunteered. Ms. March was very happy.

  I tried to look at Laurel but she wasn’t looking at me so I didn’t look at her.

  I like her nose, her pirate makeup, and the way she stuffs her hair on the back of her head . . . and the palindromes.

  But she didn’t have a swayey walk or anything.

  Dad got a raise.

  He’s happy.

  Mom’s happy.

  Mack and Ryan are happy.

  Mom says the baby in her stomach is happy.

  And I don’t care really.

  No one came to find me after Dr. Benson’s appointment.

  I just sat there.

  I sat and sat and sat there.

  There wasn’t anything I could think of to do or to think or to say.

  I just sat and tried to be totally blank.

  No nothing.

  No Bruce, No Luke, No Toby, No Judge, No Alta, No NBA Live, No Cami Wakefield, No Dr. Benson, and especially No Zyler.

  It was hard.

  But this is how I did it.

  I thought about if I ever got in an accident it would be okay.

  I wouldn’t want to die, I didn’t think.

  It would be better if I was in a coma.

  A coma for a few months.

  At least until after school got out.

  Or it might be better if I was in a coma for three years.

  I wonder if your brain keeps developing while you’re in a coma because I’d want to be ready to graduate from high school when I got out of it.

  So I’d have to have been still thinking or else I wouldn’t be able to pass.

  I bet Mom would read to me.

  If she had time without the kids and her friends and her cramps from her pregnancy and Dad and their dates and sick stuff and everything.

  She could also get those CDs that teach you Spanish and Japanese and Russian. Those would be the three I would like to learn while I was in a coma.

  I’d just lie there and listen.

  She could also get some astronomy books, and I wonder if they do physics books on CD.

  It would be hard to explain the equations.

  And I could have a physical therapist that would work me out every day. They would help me lift weights and do cardio in the pool even though I was in a coma. I think they do that.

  And people would feel so bad and would stop stop stop.

  And I think Laurel would visit me and bring my homework and tell me about how the play is going and say some palindromes and maybe we would watch videos together and she could hold my hand.

  No, that was weird.

  Because I’d be unconscious.

  But she could come and visit.

  I was still thinking about the coma when I heard people shouting my name.

  People like my mom and dad and Mack and Ryan.

  I didn’t get how they found out where I was.

  I had run and run and run.

  And why were they all there?

  I stayed quiet for a while and listened to them wanting to find me. I wanted them to find me.

  I wanted to find me.

  And then I gave up.

  I mean, and then I gave myself up.

  When I finally let everyone find me, Mom was crying.

  Dad just hugged me and so did the twins.

  That night we had pizza and Coke and Twinkies.

  Mom bought it and we all looked at her to see if she was going crazy, but she just smiled and said it was a special occasion.

  A Zyler occasion.

  I couldn’t believe she said that.

  I don’t think anyone could believe it.

  But then Mack said: Mom, what do you mean by that?

  Mom: Zyler loved Twinkies and Coke and I know I never let you guys have it. But today is a special Zyler occasion.

  Me: Why?

  Mom: Because I think it’s time that we started talking about him and remembering.

  Everyone:

  Mom: Who wants pepperoni?

  Everyone:

  Dad: I’ll have one.

  Mom: I’ll have one too.

  Mack: Me too.

  Soon everyone was eating except me. This was too weird for me. Too weird. Too weird. It wasn’t like Zyler was dead or something.

  Zyler was pretty strong, like in everything. Like how he never ever cried.

  Well, almost never.

  Mom and Dad keep asking if I want them to find out — if I want to call him or talk to him.

  He e-mailed once and then never again.

  I think maybe he doesn’t feel like talking to me.

  The first day I went to the Peter Pan set-making thing, I realized I was in the wrong place.

  I thought it was going to be backstage but I guess it was in the drama room.

  So I was going to leave.

  But then, right when I really was going to leave, I heard some people talking. But it wasn’t just anybody talking. It was Toby and Laurel.

  I think.

  Toby: What does this note mean?

  Laurel: Give it back — it’s none of your business.

  Toby: DNA land? Is this some kind of code?

  Laurel: It’s nothing. Give it back.

  Toby: Are you swapping DNA with him?

  Laurel: Shut up, Toby. You are so disgusting. Give it back.

  Toby: He’s not what he seems. He’s not some quiet nerd. He’s sick.

  Laurel: Why are you talking to me, anyway? You haven’t talked to me since fifth grade.

  Toby: Because this is important. You don’t know about him and we’re trying to make sure we protect EVERYONE.

  Laurel: Who’s we?

  Toby: Us, the guys.

  Laurel: Who? You and Luke and your master, Bruce? You guys are so stupid.

  I was holdi
ng my breath. Holding. Holding and standing back behind a big black block they use for walls sometimes.

  Toby: Look, I’m just warning you. Believe me, you need to be warned. Everyone does. Especially girls. You don’t know what he did to a girl at his last school.

  no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

  Laurel: I’m sure it was totally awful.

  Me:

  Toby: Fine, at least I warned you. But when you want to know more, come find me. Here’s your stupid note. If I were you, I’d stay away from him — I mean it.

  And then he left. Laurel took a deep breath and then she left too.

  I didn’t leave.

  After I heard Laurel and Toby leave the stage, I just stood there behind the side curtain for a really long time.

  How did he see the note?

  What should I do?

  Should I do something?

  Maybe they thought it was from someone else.

  Or maybe I heard them wrong.

  Or maybe nothing.

  I knew they were talking about me. I knew it because I’d been hearing it for weeks.

  I’d been hearing Bruce and Luke and Toby whispering and pointing and laughing and spitting at me.

  And I didn’t know exactly what they were saying, but then I knew exactly what they were saying.

  I couldn’t run away from it even though I wanted to and my parents wanted me to and I wanted me to and everyone wanted me to.

  It was here.

  I sat down on the floor.

  On the black floor of the stage, and I didn’t cry.

  Because I just sat there and thought about being nowhere and no one.

  Or in a coma.

  But then this:

  Why did she put it in caps?

  Dr. Awkward? No trace?

  What was she trying to say?

  I didn’t write back.

  I decided I wasn’t going to make sets.

  I wasn’t going to be in the play.

  Maybe I wasn’t even going to go to school.

  But then the next day I still went to school and I still went to the rehearsal.

  Even though I don’t know why.

  But I wasn’t going to go to the set thing and Laurel could throw up and die if she wanted and I wouldn’t care and I hated everyone and I would not show my face at set making and I didn’t know why she wrote Dr. Awkward and then NO TRACE, NOT ONE CARTON. If she was trying to say she didn’t want to write a trace anymore that was fine with me.

  Ms. March found me and she said: Logan, Mr. Jeffries said you didn’t show up yesterday for the tree construction.

  Me: I went to the stage and no one was there.

  Ms. March: Oh, yes. I’m sorry about the mix-up. A couple of other people got confused also. The tree making is located in the art room. Mr. Jeffries is heading it up. I’m sorry I wasn’t clear about that yesterday.

  Me: Mmmphh [or something like that].

  Ms. March: You’ll go there after practice, won’t you? They really need bodies, Logan.

  Me: Okay.

  Ms. March: I told Mr. Jeffries he could rely on you. He can, can’t he, Logan?

  Me: Yeah, okay.

  I didn’t know what else to say.

  I mean, what could I say when she just asks me like that?

  So I went.

  After my fight with Bruce and the shovel, Scouts was worse than anything.

  Jack was still so mad it was hard for him to even look at me.

  But he told me he wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even Patsy, and he made Bruce promise too. This was because of Dad and he felt bad for him and he didn’t think he deserved the crap he’d heard had happened to Dad and Mom and our family because of me.

  In Jack and Patsy’s kitchen right after the fight with him and Bruce:

  Jack: I was giving you the benefit of the doubt but you’ve proven your reputation, Logan.

  Me:

  Jack: I really can’t believe this.

  Me:

  Bruce: He’s such a jerk, Dad. He totally attacked me for no reason. He’s psycho.

  He’s really psycho.

  Jack: Okay, okay, Bruce. I’ll deal with this. You go get cleaned up and don’t tell your mother about this.

  Bruce: What? Why not?

  Jack: Because I say so.

  Bruce: But . . .

  Jack: Are you still talking? Go get cleaned up and we’ll go shopping for that stuff you wanted after all the boys finish their fires.

  Bruce gave me a look that I can’t say and then he left.

  Then Jack in my face.

  Jack: This is because I like your dad. If you ever touch my kid again . . . if you ever touch anyone in this neighborhood, I’ll know. I know about you and I’ll know. I want you at Scouts on time, every time, and don’t make one misstep or else. One misstep . . . I’m warning you.

  Now, go home, Logan.

  When I finally went back to Dr. Benson for my second appointment, I was ready.

  Mom and Dad at first said I didn’t have to go and I said: Good.

  Then, later, I heard Mom crying: It’s my fault. I was so manipulative. We should’ve told him what it was all about.

  Dad: Yeah, we should’ve told him, Sil. But we didn’t know how to handle it.

  And my mom was sort of sobbing. That’s when I went into their room.

  They both stopped talking. Ugghh.

  Me: Okay, what now?

  Dad: I’m sorry, Logan. I’m sorry about everything.

  My mom was trying to pull it together. She looked pretty bad — I’m not used to seeing her like that.

  I went over and sort of hugged her.

  Me: It’s okay, Mom.

  Mom: Oh, Logan, it’s not okay. It’s not okay. We keep messing up.

  And she was sobbing again, this time into the shoulder of my sweater, and it was really weird.

  She was shaking and I didn’t know what to do and Dad was just sitting in his chair looking at his hands.

  Finally Mom went into the bathroom to wipe up her mascara.

  Me: What does she mean, keep messing up?

  Dad: She means that we didn’t know how to protect you back on Mulholland and we thought Judge would be a better place for you. A place you could maybe restart.

  Me:

  Mom came back and sat on the bed. I was still standing there. Mom was so upset I wondered if it would hurt the baby. I think I read about that somewhere.

  Dad: But, Logan, it’s pretty obvious it’s not going to go away. That’s why we found Dr. Benson. He’s really good and some friends recommended him very highly. We just thought it would be a good idea . . .

  Mom: We thought it would help if you talked about it. You never talk about it. You always just sit in that room.

  Me:

  Mom: And I should have told you where we were going but lately I never know what you’re going to do. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. You barely talk about anything anymore. I don’t know how to help you. I don’t.

  She was rambling and then crying again.

  Dad: Silvia. It’s okay.

  Mom: No, it’s not. It’s not.

  That’s when she left the room and went I don’t know where.

  I was sick of being in the middle of everything.

  Me: Dad, I’m fine.

  Dad: I know you are. You are. You’re handling everything a lot better than I would if I were in your situation. But do you think you could at least talk to this guy — a couple times? That would really help your mother, and I think it could maybe even help you.

  I told him I would.

  I told him I’d do whatever so that everyone could stop worrying about me.

  And he said thanks: It was weird to have him say thanks how he did.

  So the next time I went to Dr. Benson, I was ready.

  Dr. Benson: So, Logan, how are you feeling?

  Me: Fine.

  Dr. Benson: I’m sorry about last time. I guess it would’ve been better had you kno
wn what you were getting into.

  Me: Yes.

  Dr. Benson: Do you feel better now?

  Me: Yes.

  Dr. Benson: Do you know why you’re here?

  Me: Yes.

  Dr. Benson: Do you want to tell me?

  Me: Not really.

  Dr. Benson: Why not?

  Me: Because you already know.

  Dr. Benson: Okay, that’s fair. Well, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? You’re in junior high, right?

  Me: Yes.

  Dr. Benson: Why don’t you tell me a little about that?

  Me: It’s fine.

  Dr. Benson: So you like it?

  Me: It’s okay.

  Dr. Benson: Let’s talk about okay. What does okay feel like?

  Me:

  Dr. Benson: Do you understand what I’m asking?

  Me: Not really.

  Dr. Benson: Okay, I’m asking you to think about what you generally feel like when you go to school. You say okay. But I don’t get what okay means. Does okay mean you don’t dread going? Does it mean you like going? Does it mean you prefer it over other things?

  Me: I don’t know.

  That’s pretty much how the whole “session” went. I knew what he was trying to do and I knew it wouldn’t work. I’d cooperate however I wanted to and that’s it.

  Dr. Benson didn’t get anything out of me.

  Nothing.

  Bruce found a weight-loss shake in my bag.

  So Scouts was worse and Bruce and Toby and Luke laughed all the time because I’m crapstock and a molester, they said.

  But I still went on time, every time.

  Not one misstep.

  So that Dad and Mom wouldn’t know.

  Every time I went I’d just try not to talk or get in anyone’s way.

  The other guys didn’t seem to hate me like Bruce and his followers did, but they didn’t seem to like me much either.

  I mean, they didn’t talk to me and they were probably scared of me.

  So that’s why when Jack brought up the Klondike Derby, I knew I had to find a way out. I also knew it would be next to impossible to get out of it because it was required: Jack made a big deal about it, and my dad had legendary stories about his Klondike Derby days.

  But I tried.

  I tried and I tried.

  But I didn’t try hard enough.

  Sometimes I wish I could erase everything that happened that night with Zyler.