Stupid Fast

Chapter 41: THE INJURY




At home that night, I found Andrew in my bedroom, using my computer. I told him to get the hell out, which made him scream at me (My charger is dead!), which made Jerri cry out “Shut up! Please! Shut the hell up!” from her bedroom.

Which caused Andrew to scream “You shut up!” while looking at me.

Jerri didn’t respond.

I looked at him. His lips were trembling. He was so dirty.

“Andrew,” I said quietly. “I honestly can’t take this anymore.”

“What are you going to do, kick me in half?”

“No. I just can’t take it.”

“Take what?” he spat. “You’re never here. You’ve abandoned me and Jerri.”

“What?”

“You don’t care about Dad.”

“Please stop, Andrew. I really can’t take it. And I might kill you accidentally.”

Andrew turned and stomped out of my room, but not before he stuck his tongue out at me (still a little kid).

I didn’t go to sleep. I passed out. That’s how exhausting dealing with Andrew and Jerri had become. I woke up only once when there was stomping and crashing above. Jerri shouted at Andrew really loud, and Andrew cried out. I think she screamed “Stop torturing me.”

Jesus. Really.

***

Then at weights in the morning, while I was bench-pressing, Cody not paying enough attention, Ken Johnson walked up and pressed down on the left end of the bar as I was pushing up.

It happened so fast that Cody really couldn’t have stopped him.

My right arm over compensated, and I went way out of balance. In a heartbeat, my back twisted really hard, and I flipped left off the bench. All the weights went crashing onto the floor. The bar nearly hit me in the head.

I was hurt. I cried out because fire rose in my lower back. Cody started shouting, “What’s wrong with you? What the hell’s wrong with you?” He shoved Ken, who just stared at me on the floor, not answering or fighting Cody. Others joined in shouting at Ken while I tried not to die. (Reese tried to pull me up, but my back hurt too much.)

In about five seconds, Coach Johnson was up the stairs shouting, “What was that noise?” Cody told him what happened while Ken stood there dumb-faced.

Then Coach totally lost his mind. He screamed at Ken.

“Go home! Go home! Get out of here! Don’t you even think about leaving that house!’ He nearly pushed Ken down the stairs, he was tailing him so close as he shouted.

After Ken left, Coach came back. Cody and Reese did pull me off the floor and helped me sit down on the bench.

“You okay? Oh, no. You all right, Reinstein? Jesus H. Christ. Do you need to go to the emergency room?”

“I’m okay,” I said, not really sure if I was.

“I’ll call your mom. You shouldn’t ride your bike home.”

“No, you can’t call her,” I said.

“Reinstein rode with me anyway. I’ll take him home,” Cody said, looking at me.

“Jesus Christ. I can’t believe this,” Coach said.

Pain shot up my back, and I winced.

On the way home, I was quiet. Cody couldn’t stop talking.

“Ken’s not a team player. He doesn’t give a shit about anybody but himself. He’d rather see you hurt than have you help our team be better. You okay? You still hurt? It’s no time to get hurt. We’ve got your birthday next week—it’s going to be awesome—and practice starts the week after. Baseball’s done after Saturday. We’re not going to make the playoffs. Coach Jones is an idiot. Can you believe he pitched Kelly at Iowa-Grant? So we can hang out more next week. You can’t get hurt now.”

I turned stiffly and looked at Cody.

“Ken Johnson tried to kill me,” I nodded.

“Yeah, I think so,” Cody said. “I should tell my dad to arrest him.”

“No. That’s okay.” I didn’t want any more Kennedy Johnson. Not even in a court of law.

I didn’t want to go home either.

Pain shot up my back. I’d have to be in my home, which wasn’t my home. All day? Several days? Weeks? What if this was a really serious injury? As Cody drove and talked, I imagined the dark and dank and smell and Andrew stomping around listening to some harsh punk music Dad liked or dragging spider-filled boxes out of the attic, looking for God-knows-what and Jerri screaming at him and Andrew screaming back and Jerri crying in her bed, me holed up in my room, not able to run, not able to do my paper route, not able to see Aleah, too broken to fight Jerri and Andrew off. Cody talked, and I began to panic.

“I don’t know what to do,” I broke in. “What am I going to do? I can’t lie around all day.”

“I don’t think it’s serious, Reinstein. Seriously. You walked away from there. You’ll be back moving fine in a day or two. It could’ve been a lot worse, like if those weights had hit…”

“I can’t sit in my house for two days!” I shouted.

“You want to come to my house?” he asked.

I wanted to go to Aleah’s, but she’d be sleeping. I thought about going to Cody’s but would have to answer questions there because Cody’s dad would know something was wrong. I had to go home. I had to.

“No, no. I’ll just go home. I’ll be okay,” I said, nodding, trying to hold it together.

“You sure, Reinstein?”

“Yeah.”

Cody wanted to help me into the house when we got there, but I wouldn’t let him. I couldn’t let him see the rubble inside.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Don’t worry.” I tried to sound reassuring. “I’ll come up to the game tomorrow,” I nodded.

“Put some ice on it,” he told me.

“On what? On my back? Will that help?”

“I don’t know. Everybody always says to put ice on it.”

“Okay. I’ll put ice on it.”

I straight-leg zombie-walked into the garage, totally wincing the whole way. When I turned, Cody wasn’t driving away. He was waiting until I entered the house (and into the care of Jerri, I suppose). I waved and went in.