Adrenaline Crush (14 page)

“No more Shakespeare on my birthday,” I yell down. “I want something original.”

Laughing, he bounds up the stairs to me and holds out the gift bag. “Many trees gave their lives for this dazzling presentation.”

“Lovely.” I feel my smile widen.

Jay leans against the railing and pulls me to sit on the ledge beneath him. Clawing at the colorful paper, I uncover a chubby rainbow teddy bear with hearts for eyes.

“I know it's cheesy, but I saw him in Manny's front window and I couldn't resist,” he says. Giving the bear a hug, I reach up to make it caress Jay's cheek until he laughs and leans down to kiss me.

Next I pull out a cover for my phone with the image of a star-filled sky on the back of it. “Since your phone is too ancient to get the stargazing app.”

“Hey, I like my old phone.” I smile as I look at the phone case. “This is seriously sweet. And I love that some couples may have a special song, but we have a geeky app.”

“It will always be
our app
,” Jay says.

Next I unwrap a retro silver bicycle bell that he attaches to my cane for me. “To get those
rotten kids
out of your way.” I laugh as he pulls out my final gift and hands it to me. “And this is for after you get around to finishing
Romeo and Juliet
.” It's a hardcover illustrated copy of Krakauer's book
Into Thin Air
. “This one's about a group of climbers who get stuck in a storm on Mount Everest.”

“Wow, cool,” I say, opening it to flip through the thick pages.

“Eight of them die.”

I look at him. “Well, thanks for giving away the ending.”

He chuckles. “Krakauer tells you that from the start. But it's amazing how quickly things can turn deadly when people don't respect nature's power. I mean, why would anyone even consider a crazy climb like that? I don't get it.”

I stop at a full-page photo of Everest and trace my fingers over the craggy peak. The highest point on earth. “I do,” I whisper.

“What?” Jay asks.

I smile and hold up the book. “Thank you. I love everything.”

“Happy birthday, Dyna.” He squeezes me. “Hope you don't mind that I didn't get you jewelry. I know you don't like wearing it.”

“You got me there.” I grin. “And anyway, wouldn't jewelry imply it's time for me to start putting out?”

Jay feigns shock and covers his mouth. “Dyna. What would make you think I'm ready to have sex with you?”

“We've been dating for almost three months.” I stand, turn toward him, and give him the most luscious, seductive, tender kiss I can.

When I pull back, Jay pretends to almost collapse over the railing. “Is it too late to maybe swing by the jewelry store?”

I laugh. “Nice try.” We look into each other's eyes and I add, “Maybe soon.”

“Don't worry,” he says. “We'll know when the time is perfect.”

He's perfect
. “We'll know,” I agree, and pull him down so we're completely hidden by the walls of the castle.

He stretches out beside me in the shadows and I breathe in the familiar scent of his shampoo. Putting my hand on his chest I say, “I love you, Jay.”

His eyes widen and he caresses my cheek. “Wow, do I ever love you, too,” he says, and moves in to seal it with a perfect spearmint kiss.

 

19

Workout Barbie is super-rah-rah-psyched about my progress that Friday. “I spoke with your doctor and ankle fusion is definitely not necessary.” She grasps my unwrapped foot and painfully tests my ankle rolls. “In fact, I think we can get that range of motion where it needs to be.” She takes me by the shoulders. “Dyna, with some extra pushing I believe you may eventually get full use.”

Sparky is standing close by and calls out, “You hear that, guys? Dyna's getting her ankle back all the way.”

“Eventually!” Barbie clarifies. “And with a
lot
of work.”

Rita gives a “Hell yeah!” and the others begin to applaud.

“All right, okay.” I hold up both my hands. “No need to go into another drum circle.
Please
.” But I can't keep the grin off my face.

The human Barbie has been pushing me to try the treadmill ever since I came back at the beginning of the month. It's almost October now, but I think I'm finally ready. Son of Frankenfoot is looking awfully worn and dirty, but I'm not quite ready to let the monster go.

Standing on the stopped belt, I take a few breaths before bumping the machine slowly up in increments until I hit 3.6 MPH. I keep it steady there until I catch my stride. Even though I'm not walking all that fast, I hold on to the front of the machine until Pierce passes by and points out that hanging on the bar cuts my workout effectiveness in half. He's wearing his running prosthetic, which looks like a large metal letter
J
from the side.

I let go and try to straighten out my uneven gait until I find a comfortable pace. The whir of another treadmill across from me starts up, and by the time I get my rhythm enough to look over, Pierce is already jogging smoothly along on it. I watch him run faster as he brings his machine up to a nice clip. With
one leg
.

I feel like my treadmill may as well be blinking “Begin Workout Now.”

I poke my speed button four times, and then when that doesn't feel like much of an increase I give it two more. I'm at 4.2 MPH and now my long strides are hurried by the speed of the machine.

Any faster and I'll be jogging. A panicky feeling starts to rise in my chest as I fast-walk as quickly as I can. I look over at Pierce's focused expression. Watch him sweating.

I've drifted to the rear of the walking platform and realize I'm falling behind the treadmill's pace. I try to hurry my way back to where I can grab the front if I need to.

Son of Frankenfoot gives a strange stutter on the belt that throws off my stride.

I cry out as I'm pitched forward.

Pushing away panic, I have a split second to react.

My good ankle twists,

and I drop to the ground.

It's a good call. Letting myself fall is the best move for my ankle. Except that I'm on a treadmill and anything that falls on the moving belt gets dumped off the back end. Including me.

I grunt as my body does an awkward roll and I'm spit out onto the floor.

The dread washes over me and I am

curled in a ball,

helpless and broken all over again.

My eyes fill.
I knew this would happen
. I'm gutted by defeat. And then,

I get up.

And I am fine.

“Did you guys see that?” I laugh in disbelief through my tears as I rub my ankle and realize Pierce is right there. He must've rushed over as soon as he saw me falling. Was probably the one who hit the big red Stop button on my treadmill. But he didn't help me up or try to comfort me. He waited.

He's still breathing heavily from his run as he watches me swipe at my eyes and pull myself together. He asks if I'm sure I'm okay.

I look away and nod. And it's with mixed emotions that I climb back on that treadmill and try again.

 

20

I've entered Sunday afternoon TV-trance-zone on the couch when Dad walks in the door announcing, “Heads up! I've got a surprise guest!” Over the years he's done this thing where he'll randomly bring home clients he finds especially memorable or unique. Usually they're semi-famous musicians or superquirky artists who start out in his tattoo chair and end up at our dinner table. I look to the doorway.

Squinting at the silhouette beside my father, I see there's something familiar in the way the stranger is standing. The shadowed figure moves into the living room with the hint of a limp and I nearly scream in surprise.

“Hey, Dyna,” Pierce says, “what're you doing here?”

“Um, I
live
here,” I say, in such a way that I don't need to add, “And what the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, wow.” Pierce looks amused as he glances back and forth between my dad and me. “Yeah, I guess I can see a little resemblance.”

I glare at him accusingly. “I look just like my mom.”

“Hey, Dyna Glider,” Dad says. “How do you know Private Pierce?”

“Pierce goes to Ulysses,” I say tonelessly.

“The home of inside-out healing,” Pierce confirms.

Dad smiles. “I just finished giving him an extraordinary tattoo.”

I wish Jay was here to block the judgmental way Pierce is looking at me. As if curling up on a couch to watch reality television in the middle of the afternoon is some sort of crime or something. I sit up, flip the switch mid-bitch-fight, and try to look as if I haven't been in this same position for hours.

The silence in the wake of the dramatic onscreen shrieking stretches out awkwardly until Pierce breaks it. “Your dad sort of insisted I come and meet the family. It was a little cold, but that ride felt amazing.”

“You mean you…”

“My first time on the back of a Harley.” Pierce laughs. “I may need to get one of those.”

I squint at Dad and try to picture him riding with Pierce's arms wrapped around his waist, his legs bent at uneven angles as they lean into the turns together.

“Pierce was just telling me about his adventures overseas.” Dad claps him on the back. “I'm hoping some of his sense of honor rubs off on your brother.”

I'm ready to escape the Pierce-worshipping party my dad is throwing here in our living room. Extracting myself from the couch, I stretch the stiffness out of my legs.

“Tell your mom I'm cooking up an early dinner and there's going to be an extra person at the table.” He looks at Pierce. “Want to lend me a hand, soldier?”

Pierce gives me an apologetic shrug and the two of them head toward the kitchen. Best buddies in the world.

As I move to the stairs Dad calls after me, “Send your brother down to help us with the cooking.”

I turn to give my dad an aggressive eye roll but catch Pierce's stare by accident. Dad's already in the kitchen, but Pierce is watching me go.

I feel the pull of him.

Breaking free, I make my way up the staircase but feel his blue eyes burning as I limp away. My heart pounds and I stop to catch my breath as soon as I'm out of view.

Finally, I hear Dad engage Pierce in a conversation about steak.

“Unghhh!” I stomp my good foot in rage.

I can't believe that the guy I've been trying to keep out of my head is staying for dinner.

*   *   *

“Dad's back to bringing random people home to feed,” I tell Harley from the doorway of his bedroom. Nobody has brought up his eviction even though his month is up in a few days. He's playing his air guitar in front of the mirror now and turns to face me as he continues rocking out.

“Nice jamming,” I say, “but you need to go help Dad cook.”

Harley groans and I head to my room and close the door.
Mom would understand that Pierce is dangerous
. I picture her trying to mimic Dad's intimidation technique by lifting her dress and pointing to my birthdate tattooed on her belly. I imagine her asking Pierce aggressively, “Do you have any idea how precious my daughter is to me? Do you?” It would probably be pretty effective.

I take a moment to wrap my ankle tighter before reaching under my pillow and pulling out the poem Jay gave me earlier today. Unfolding the thick stationery, I smile as I reread the perfect words he wrote for me.

Love's herald fell from rusty sky

Night Star craved wildflower's face

True North did capture flower's sigh

Finding fit in petal's embrace

I have it memorized by the time Harley calls up to say the food is ready. Using my cane, I make my way downstairs and find everyone's already sitting around the table. The only open seat is next to Pierce, who's helping Dad serve up delicious-smelling skirt steaks with roasted asparagus and penne.

After we start eating Mom says, “I wasn't sure if Jay was joining us tonight.” She glances at Pierce, and I realize I didn't need to say anything to her after all. Pierce doesn't flinch at the mention of Jay's name. In fact, he seems completely comfortable as we all noisily praise the tasty meal.

“I was just telling your dad how much I love this section of the woods,” Pierce says. “Having the trail right behind the house must make it easy for you to get out and exercise. You bike, right, Dyna?”

“Ha!” Harley butts in before I can respond. “She hasn't been on her mountain bike since the day of her accident.” I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at my big brother.

“What's up with that?” Pierce asks me. “I think
I
was back to biking sooner.”

“I still can't believe you're a runner, too,” Harley tells him. “You should totally do a triathlon or something.”

“Except that I can only swim in circles now.” Pierce laughs.

Harley says, “Man, that blows.”

“Yeah, but to be honest I'm extremely lucky. I have buddies who came home in boxes.” He looks at his hands.

“That's who the tat is for,” Dad says. “It's four of his comrades' names written in sand and big ole sandy angel's wings on either side of them.”

“It looks amazing,” Pierce says.

Dad smiles proudly and the table is silent, as if my whole family is under the spell of Pierce's presence.

I blurt, “What about
Easy Rider
, Dad?” Everyone turns to look in my direction. “I thought you didn't believe in war. In fact…” Lunging over the table I pull up the right sleeve of Dad's T-shirt and reveal his peace-symbol tattoo that drips with the words “More Ink Less War.” “Aha!” I accuse. “You and Mom still move Bush's autobiography into the crime section at bookstores.”