Better Than Weird (17 page)

“Sure. What else do you want to know?”

“How come my dad stayed away so long? How come he didn't come back before?”

“That,” said Sophie, “is a fair question, but it's best answered by your father.”

From upstairs came the sound of boxes being shifted and his father's voice. “For crying out loud!” he said. Then he added some words Aaron wasn't allowed to say.

Sophie squeezed his hand. “Probably today's not the best day to ask.”

TWENTY - SIX

Aaron wanted to help pick up Gran from the hospital, but after seeing his dad so grumpy the night before, he was afraid to ask. He was afraid his dad would say, “No, you can't miss any more school.” So he asked Sophie, and she smiled and said, “Of course you can come.”

They called a taxi and his father sat in the front with the driver. He was unusually quiet. It was Sophie who answered Aaron's questions about Dawson.

“In the summer,” she began, “the sun never sets. It's shining before you get up in the morning and it's still shining after you go to bed at night. It gets a little gray around two o'clock in the morning, but it never gets dark. The winter's not nearly as appealing. It's dark most of the day and all night, and the nights are long. But that's when you see the northern lights. They dance across the heavens in ribbons of color. People come from all over the world to see them.”

Aaron sat beside her, listening. Outside, the stores of Gerrard Street flashed by. “It's nothing like this,” Sophie said with a sigh as they passed windows agleam with lights and rainbow displays of saris. “Most of our shopping is done from a catalogue.”

“I don't do a lot of shopping,” Aaron said.

“Tell me about your concert,” Sophie said. So Aaron told her how he and Tufan were going to be making the introductions. “Mr. Collins said I could save you seats near the front, in case you want to take pictures or something.”

That was when his dad spoke up. “We'll take a video,” he said. “I brought my camera. That way Gran won't miss out even if she doesn't feel up to coming along.”

* * *

When they arrived at her room, Gran was seated in a wheelchair, dressed and ready to go. She asked Aaron to push her down the hall, and he did, walking as carefully as he could so as not to bump into anything.

There was a wait for the elevator, and when it came, the people inside made room for them. Gran's chair ended up facing one that was being pushed by a young man in a hospital uniform.

“Oh my goodness. It is that helpful boy again,” said a familiar voice, and Aaron saw that the woman in the other chair was Tufan's grandmother. “You were right,” she said smiling. “The doctors here are taking good care of me.”

“Are you going home now, like my gran?” Aaron said.

“Not yet. Today this young man is taking me for X-rays. Then we will see.”

She smiled at Gran. “I am Amina,” she said.

Gran smiled back and said, “Hello, Amina, I'm Fran.”

“You are fortunate to be going home already. I think your grandson must have been missing you.”

“Yes,” Gran said as she turned her head to smile at Aaron. “And I missed him.”

“I am missing my grandson too.” She leaned toward Gran. “We are so fortunate,” she said. “To have our grandsons close.”

“We certainly are,” Gran agreed.

The elevator door swished open then, and everybody said goodbye as they filed out.

“How do you know that lady?” Gran asked.

“She's Tufan's grandmother. Once, when I was in the office making announcements, she brought his lunch to school. And she came to the hospital in the ambulance the day I broke my arm.”

“Tufan? Is he a friend of yours?”

“He's in my class,” he said, not really answering the question. Then he smiled because he realized if he moved to Dawson, Tufan wouldn't be in his class ever again.

* * *

That afternoon Aaron went back to school. At the end of the day, Mr. Collins told the two boys to meet him by the gym doors for a quick stage rehearsal, and that's why they were leaning against the wall not far from each other.

They didn't speak until Tufan said, “The man who picked you up yesterday? That was your dad, huh?”

“Yeah, that was my dad.” Aaron hoped Tufan wasn't going to say anything mean about his father.

“So what'd he bring you, besides the key chain?”

“What?”

“Well, he's been gone for years. Didn't he bring you anything?”

Aaron wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to try explaining Sophie.

“I got a surprise,” he said.

“Yeah? An iPod or something?”

“A computer. I got a computer. With a webcam,” he said, remembering the new purchase.

“Oh yeah? You didn't have one?”

“No. This is my first.”

“About time then.”

Aaron was relieved. Tufan was just…talking…like he'd talk to anybody. It gave him the courage to say, “I'm glad your grandmother's getting better.”

He was prepared to hear Tufan snarl,
You don't
talk about my grandmother
. But Tufan said, “Me too. I was kind of worried when she got sick.” He glanced at Aaron. “She told me you're a nice boy.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. But then she doesn't know what a loser you are.” He laughed, and Aaron wondered if that was a joke. Should he laugh too? He wasn't sure. He was relieved when Mr. Collins arrived.

The teacher took them through their rehearsal in no time. Everything went so well that they were done just after four o'clock. “Break a leg!” Mr. Collins said as they gathered their belongings.

Break a leg?
Aaron didn't get that, but he heard Tufan call, “Thanks,” on his way out of the gym, so he said, “Thanks,” before he left too.

The school was quiet. The hallway leading to the outer door was empty. Aaron didn't notice. All he wanted to do was get home to see Gran and Sophie and his dad.

When he pushed against the door's crash bar, he saw Tufan outside, waiting. A worm of worry began to stir in Aaron's belly. Then he felt silly. They had just spent days writing and learning their poem. In all that time Tufan had hardly been mean at all. Aaron stepped out. Behind him the door made a whooshing sound. When it clicked shut, Tufan came closer.

“I…I hafta go home,” Aaron said.

“Yeah, I know. Your daddy's waiting with more presents for you.”

“No. I…” Aaron stopped, remembering Jeremy's advice.

“Does it hurt?” Tufan asked, motioning to the arm.

Aaron shook his head.

Tufan moved closer, trapping Aaron against the wall. “I can make it hurt,” he said. The worm in Aaron's belly froze and turned into an icicle of fear. A soft whimper escaped his lips.

“Suck,” Tufan said when he heard. Then he smiled.

Not a happy smile, Aaron thought. The icicle dug deeper. He took a gasping breath. “You'd better not… or…or else,” he said, his voice quivering with fear.

“Else what? You gonna stop me?”

“I'm gonna tell. I'll tell everybody. And you'll be… suspended.”

Tufan's eyebrows rose. “Who's gonna believe you? I'll tell them you fell. They know what a klutz you are. So you broke your arm all over again.”

Aaron gasped. “Maybe…,” he started. “Maybe I am a klutz. But they'll believe me anyway.” And then, because
he
believed, his voice grew stronger. “Everybody will believe me. Karen…Mrs. Matthews will believe me! Mr. Collins will believe me! Even Mr. Ulanni will believe me!”

Tufan shifted. Aaron glanced around. There was no one in the schoolyard, but he no longer cared that they were alone. He took a new breath and his voice got louder as he said, “And…and Jeremy, he'll believe me. And Sophie and my dad and my gran, they'll believe me too.” Then he rose to his tiptoes and leaned into Tufan's face. “And your grandmother! She'll believe me. She thinks I'm nice. You said so.
She'll
believe me.”

Tufan's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And you should close your mouth! You'd look smarter,” Aaron finished.

Tufan's mouth closed. Then he laughed. “You're such a dweeb,” he said. “Can't you take a joke?”

Then he turned and, to Aaron's relief, walked away.

TWENTY - SEVEN

All the way home, Aaron wondered about Tufan. Was that a joke? He wasn't sure, but he felt good because, joke or no joke, he had stood up for himself.

When he got to his house, he found the front door locked. Instead of ringing the doorbell, he used his key and let himself in. He was taking off his boots when he heard voices in the kitchen.

“Things are so much better this year,” Gran was saying. “His teacher's wonderful, and he's getting counseling.”

She's talking about me
, Aaron thought. A flicker of worry stirred in his chest. He didn't like it when his gran talked to other people about him. And now she was probably talking to his dad and Sophie. What was she telling them?

“Paul, his Big Brother, has been a huge help,” Gran went on. “And, for the first time ever, he has a friend. You don't know what a difference that makes.”

That didn't sound bad. Maybe she was telling only good things.

“But it's been…up and down,” Gran continued. “Lately there have been more ups, but it doesn't take much to set him off. You've seen that for yourselves. He still gets excited.”

Aaron groaned. He didn't want to hear that.

“How's he doing at school?” his father asked.

“Oh, Aaron's smart enough, I've told you that before. He's smarter than most people realize. But his behavior is such a distraction that sometimes that's all they see.”

“It can't have been easy for you,” Sophie said.

“Easy? When he was four, getting him through the school doors was a daily battle.”

Aaron knew what was coming.
Don't…don't tell
, he thought as he let his backpack slide to the floor.

But Gran went on. “There we were on his first morning, everybody lined up and excited, and Aaron refused to go inside. He sat down on the pavement, and I couldn't budge him. His teacher came and tried to coax him in, but that didn't work. The principal came. He wanted to pick Aaron up and carry him inside, and Aaron said, ‘Keep your hands off me, perv.' I near died of embarrassment.”

Aaron squirmed. That's how he was feeling. Like he wanted to die of embarrassment. He sloughed off his coat and let it fall on top of the backpack.

“It took almost a month before he walked through the school doors without making a fuss,” Gran went on. “I was afraid they'd tell me to keep him home. But they didn't. Have to give them credit. They've done their best to cope with him.”

Aaron walked toward the kitchen, hoping Gran would stop when she saw him. But as he came closer, he heard his father's voice. “I should have been here. I didn't…I couldn't…I…I'm sorry.”

“Sorry!” Aaron sputtered as he pushed open the kitchen door. “You said…you said sorry's not enough! And it's not! It's not enough!” he shouted as he glared at his father. When he spoke again, his words were quieter, but every bit as sharp. “Where were you? Where were you, anyway?”

His father exhaled a great breath and sank into his chair like a balloon leaking air.

“Tell him,” Sophie urged.

“Yeah! Tell me! Tell me where…where you were… and why…why you never—” His throat tightened. He choked back a sob.

His father's hands sagged into his lap while Aaron struggled for breath.

“Like Sophie said,” his father finally began, “this family has too many secrets.
I
have too many secrets. What I haven't told you is that I stayed away because I was ashamed to come home. I was ashamed,” he said again. “When I left, I just wanted to run. I couldn't get far enough away.”

“From me? You ran from me?” Aaron said, his eyes bright with tears.

“Yes. From you,” his dad admitted. “But all the time, I felt so bad about leaving.” He looked at his hands. His fingers were twisting together like Aaron's worms.

“What I did was, I started to drink and then I didn't stop. I couldn't keep a job. I went from place to place trying to forget about Sarah, about…” He glanced at Aaron.

“You were trying to forget me?” Hot tears streaked down Aaron's cheeks. “I was remembering you! I remembered you every day! Why were you forgetting me?”

“I was trying to forget
myself
. The part of myself that couldn't cope. The part that couldn't help you.”

Aaron gasped for air. He shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts clear. His dad was supposed to know stuff. His dad was supposed to tell him how to do things right. He took a big breath and wiped the tears off his face.