Don't Hurt Me

Chapter 29

Thankfully, my older brother regains consciousness quickly, with a bit shaking and prodding from Rob and me.

"Sam, Sam?" I say his name, and hear a groan.

Rob and I take an arm each, pulling him up and leaning his weight against the wall. But he can't keep himself quite upright, slumping a little to the left like a dejected ragdoll.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Rob asks, showing four fingers.

Sam raises his own hand, giving him the middle finger in response.

"Oh, nice," Rob answers sourly.

"Will you two stop?" I come between them. "Sam, are you OK?"

"No."

"Maybe we should take him to the hospital," Rob says in my ear, but Sam overhears him.

"No frickin' way." He leans forward, then cringes and thinks better of it. "I'll be fine."

"I need to warn Mom," it occurs to me. "Watch him, Robbie. Make sure he doesn't pass out again."

This is not going to be good, I think to myself as the phone rings on the other end. I pace around my room, back and forth, round and round. My limbs are filled with mad energy, and I can't think straight. I have no idea what I'm going to say. I can't seem to focus and plan the words.

"Hello?" my grandmother's voice comes on, its gentle tone striking me. Help me, I want to say. But I stop myself before I can blurt out anything like that, before I can give in to emotion all over again.

No one can help us, anyway. No one but ourselves. "Gran, it's me."

"Oh, Clare, honey. Is everything OK?"

"Um, I need to talk to her."

"Yes, I figured as much." She goes away, and after a long wait, my mother picks up.

"What is it now, Clare?"

I find myself grinding my teeth, imagining them wearing away. Does she have to be like this? The heavy hopelessness that came over me before dwindles, replaced by annoyance.

This is all because of you, I think, accusing her silently. You and him. "He's coming."

Silence. Dead. Nothing but air sounds over the line. "Hello? Mom?"

"How did he find out?"

"I told him."

"You what?" she exclaims. "I thought I told you - "

"I know what you told me."

"Clare, how could you?"

"Me?" I retort. "What about you? You left without telling us. You let us think you were dead. And now, you got us into trouble. We're sick of your stupid games."

"This is not a game."

"Whatever. I just thought I should warn you."

"Ugh."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll handle him," she answers dully.

"He was pretty mad."

"I said I can handle him. I've been doing it all these years, haven't I? You are going to be in a lot of trouble though. You just wait." The line drops, beeps sounding in my ear.

I head into the other room, looking down at my brothers.

"How did it go?" Rob wants to know.

"She got mad at me, of course."

"We all told."

Yes, but somehow, both my parents see me as the traitor, as if they knew I was the tipping point. I rub my face with both hands, letting out a tired breath. When will all this be over? When can the three of us stop worrying about our parents and lead our own lives?

"Do you think she's going to be OK?" Rob wonders worriedly.

"She didn't seem too worried."

"Maybe she'll figure something out."

"Well, she's smart, and he won't get there for a few days," I mutter.

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but I think we did the right thing, Clare."

Sam frowns when he hears that. "Let's hope you two don't end up regretting this."

The two of them stare at each other coldly, and I try to think of something to say. "Maybe I should see if I can fix something for dinner."

Sam snorts, but says, "Do whatever you want."

You might think it's insane to sit in the kitchen making sandwiches right after a fight like that. It isn't. Having something simple and mind-numbing to do is what's keeping me from tearing my own hair out.

As I work, I think about Josh's grandmother and the stuff she's taught me to make. One of these days, I should scrape together enough money to buy ingredients for one of those dishes. It'd be nice to have some real food for once.

Rob comes down just as I'm finishing up, bringing a dazed, wincing Sam. Purple circles one of his eyes, which has been squinted half-shut. It's not a pretty sight, and my stomach turns when I look at him.

"He's really gone?" Sam asks.

"Yes," I answer, handing a sandwich to him.

"No," he says, nodding for Rob to take it instead.

"Shouldn't we do something?" Sam continues.

"I told Mom."

"I meant shouldn't we go after him?"

"Why? What do you plan to do? Get into another fight?"

Sam turns away, blinking a few times like he's in pain.

"Sam? What's wrong? Maybe you should go lie down - "

"Forget that," he says impatiently. "Mom's in danger."

"Look, she said she'll handle it. Let's not make things any worse, OK? No matter what you do, those two are going to have to confront each other eventually."

"But that doesn't mean she should have to do it alone. With Gran! What if he ... ?"

I know what he wants to say. And I think Rob does too. But to this day, I don't know if he's ever hit Mom before. She doesn't seem to carry the same fear we do, which makes me suspect that while he might hit his children, he would never lay a hand on her.

"He took the Dodge. I'm not even sure how we're going to get to school."

"I'll figure something out," he goes, hobbling out of the kitchen.

I look at my twin, and he sighs softly. "I figured this might happen," he says. "Even banged up like that ... he just has to try and rescue her."