Every Day (5 page)

Early sixth period, right after lunch, my brother is called down to the principal’s office.

At first I think I may have heard it wrong. But then I see other people in class looking at me, including Carrie, who has pity in her eyes. So I must have heard it right.

I am not alarmed. I figure if it was something really bad, they would have called us both. Nobody in my family has died. Our house hasn’t burned down. It’s Owen’s business, not mine.

Carrie sends me a note.
What happened?

I send a shrug in her direction. How am I supposed to know?

I just hope I haven’t lost my ride home.

Sixth period ends. I gather my books and head to English class. The book is
Beowulf
, so I’m completely prepared. I’ve done this unit plenty of times.

I’m about ten steps away from the classroom when someone grabs me.

I turn, and there’s Owen.

Owen, bleeding.

“Shh,” he says. “Just come with me.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Just shh, okay?”

He’s looking around like he’s being chased. I decide to go along. After all, this is more exciting than
Beowulf
.

We get to a supply closet. He motions me in.

“Are you kidding me?” I say.

“Leslie.”

There’s no arguing. I follow him in. I find the light switch easily.

He’s breathing hard. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

“Tell me what happened,” I say.

“I think I might be in trouble.”

“Duh. I heard you called to the principal’s office. Why aren’t you down there?”

“I
was
down there. I mean, before the announcement. But then I … left.”

“You bolted from the principal’s office?”

“Yeah. Well, the waiting room. They went to check my locker. I’m sure of it.”

The blood is coming from a cut above his eye.

“Who hit you?” I ask.

“It doesn’t matter. Just shut up and listen to me, okay?”

“I’m listening, but you’re not saying anything!”

I don’t think Leslie usually talks back to her older brother. But I don’t care. He isn’t really paying attention to me, anyway.

“They’re going to call home, okay? I need you to back me up.” He hands me his keys. “Just go home after school and see what the situation is. I’ll call you.”

Luckily, I know how to drive.

When I don’t argue, he takes it as acquiescence.

“Thanks,” he tells me.

“Are you going to the principal’s office now?” I ask him.

He leaves without an answer.

Carrie has the news by the end of the day. Whether it’s the truth doesn’t really matter. It’s the news that’s going around, and she’s eager to report it to me.

“Your brother and Josh Wolf got into a fight out by the field, during lunch. They’re saying it had to do with drugs, and that your brother is a dealer or something. I mean, I knew he was into pot and everything, but I had no idea he
dealt
. He and Josh were dragged down to the principal’s office, but Owen decided to run. Can you believe it? They were paging him to come back. But I don’t think he did.”

“Who’d you hear it from?” I ask. She’s giddy with excitement.

“From Corey! He wasn’t out there, but some of the guys he hangs out with saw the fight and everything.”

I see now that the fact that Corey told her is the bigger news here. She’s not so selfish that she wants me to congratulate her, not with my brother in trouble. But it’s clear what her priority is.

“I’ve got to drive home,” I say.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Carrie asks. “I don’t want you to have to walk in there alone.”

For a second, I’m tempted. But then I imagine her giving Corey the blow-by-blow account of what went down, and even if that’s not a fair assumption to make, it’s enough to make me realize I don’t want her there.

“It’s okay,” I say. “If anything, this is really going to make me look like the good daughter.”

Carrie laughs, but more out of support than humor.

“Tell Corey I say hi,” I say playfully as I close my locker.

She laughs again. This time, out of happiness.

“Where is he?”

I haven’t even stepped through the kitchen door and the interrogation begins.

Leslie’s mother, father, and grandmother are all there, and I don’t need to access her mind to know this is an unusual occurrence at three in the afternoon.

“I have no idea,” I say. I’m glad he didn’t tell me; this way, I don’t have to lie.

“What do you mean, you have no idea?” my father asks. He’s the lead inquisitor in this family.

“I mean, I have no idea. He gave me the keys to the car, but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on.”

“And you let him walk away?”

“I didn’t see any police chasing after him,” I say. Then I wonder if there are, in fact, police chasing after him.

My grandmother snorts in disgust.

“You always take his side,” my father intones. “But not this time. This time you are going to tell us everything.”

He doesn’t realize he’s just helped me. Now I know that Leslie always takes Owen’s side. So my instinct is correct.

“You probably know more than I do,” I say.

“Why would your brother and Josh Wolf have a fight?” my mother asks, genuinely bewildered. “They’re such good friends!”

My mental image of Josh Wolf is of a ten-year-old, leading me to believe that at one point, my brother probably
was
good friends with Josh Wolf. But not anymore.

“Sit down,” my father commands, pointing to a kitchen chair.

I sit down.

“Now … where is he?”

“I genuinely don’t know.”

“She’s telling the truth,” my mother says. “I can tell when she’s lying.”

Even though I have way too many control issues to do drugs myself, I am starting to get a sense of why Owen likes to get stoned.

“Well, let me ask this, then,” my father continues. “Is your brother a drug dealer?”

This is a very good question. My instinct is
no
. But a lot depends on what happened on the field with Josh Wolf.

So I don’t answer. I just stare.

“Josh Wolf says the drugs in his jacket were sold to him by your brother,” my father prods. “Are you saying they weren’t?”

“Did they find any drugs on Owen?” I ask.

“No,” my mother answers.

“And in his locker? Didn’t they search his locker?”

My mother shakes her head.

“And in his room? Did you find any in his room?”

My mother actually looks surprised.

“I
know
you looked in his room,” I say.

“We haven’t found anything,” my father answers. “Yet. And we also need to take a look in that car. So if you will please give me the keys …”

I am hoping that Owen was smart enough to clear out the car. Either way, it’s not up to me. I hand over the keys.

Unbelievably, they’ve searched my room, too.

“I’m sorry,” my mother says from the hallway, tears in her
eyes now. “He thought your brother might have hidden the drugs in here. Without you knowing.”

“It’s fine,” I say, more to get her out of the room than anything else. “I’m just going to clean up now.”

But I’m not quick enough. My phone rings. I hold it so my mom can’t see Owen’s name on the display.

“Hi, Carrie,” I say.

Owen is at least smart enough to keep his voice down so it won’t be overheard.

“Are they mad?” he whispers.

I want to laugh. “What do you think?”

“That bad?”

“They’ve ransacked his room, but they haven’t found anything. They’re looking in his car now!”

“Don’t tell her that!” my mother says. “Get off the phone.”

“Sorry—Mom’s here, and not happy about me talking to you about this. Where are you? Are you at home? Can I call you back?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, he really does have to come home eventually, doesn’t he?”

“Look … meet me in a half hour at the playground, okay?”

“I really have to go. But, yes, I’ll do that.”

I hang up. My mother is still looking at me.

“I’m not the one you’re mad at!” I remind her.

Poor Leslie will have to clean up the mess in her room tomorrow morning—I can’t be bothered to figure out where everything goes. That would take too much accessing, and the
priority is finding out which playground Owen means. There’s one at an elementary school about four blocks from the house. I assume that’s the place.

It’s not easy to sneak out of the house. I wait until the three of them return to Owen’s room to tear it apart again, then skulk out the back door. I know this is a risky maneuver—the minute they realize I’m gone, there will be hell to pay. But if Owen comes back with me, that’ll all be forgotten.

I know I should be focusing on the matter at hand, but I can’t help but think of Rhiannon. School’s now over for her, too. Is she hanging out with Justin? If so, is he treating her well? Did anything about yesterday rub off on him?

I hope, but never expect.

Owen’s nowhere to be found, so I head to the swings and hang in the air for a while. Eventually he appears on the sidewalk and heads over to me.

“You always pick that swing,” he says, sitting down on the swing next to mine.

“I do?” I say.

“Yeah.”

I wait for him to say something else. He doesn’t.

“Owen,” I finally say. “What happened?”

He shakes his head. He’s not going to tell me.

I stop swinging and plant my feet on the ground.

“This is stupid, Owen. You have five seconds to tell me what happened, or I’m going to head right back home, and you’ll be on your own for whatever happens next.”

Owen is surprised. “What do you want me to say? Josh Wolf gets me my pot. Today we got into a fight over it—he was saying I owed him, when I didn’t. He started pushing me around, so I pushed him back. And we got caught. He had the drugs, so he said I’d just dealt them to him. Real smooth. I said that was totally wrong, but he’s in all AP classes and everything, so who do you think they’re going to believe?”

He has definitely convinced himself it’s the truth. But whether it started out being the truth or not, I can’t tell.

“Well,” I say, “you have to come home. Dad’s trashed your room, but they haven’t found any drugs yet. And they didn’t find any in your locker, and I’m guessing they didn’t find any in the car, or I would’ve heard about it. So right now, it’s all okay.”

“I’m telling you, there aren’t any drugs. I used the weed up this morning. That’s why I needed more from Josh.”

“Josh, your former best friend.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t been friends with him since we were, like, eight.”

I am sensing that this was the last time Owen had a best friend.

“Let’s go,” I tell him. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Easy for you to say.”

I am not expecting our father to hit Owen. But as soon as he sees him in the house, he decks him.

I think I am the only one who is truly stunned.

“What have you done?” my father is yelling. “What stupid, stupid thing have you done?”

Both my mother and I move to stand between them. Grandma just watches from the sidelines, looking mildly pleased.

“I haven’t done anything!” Owen protests.

“Is that why you ran away? Is that why you are being expelled? Because you haven’t done anything?”

“They won’t expel him until they hear his side of the story,” I point out, fairly sure this is true.

“Stay out of this!” my father warns.

“Why don’t we all sit down and talk this over?” my mother suggests.

The anger rises off my father like heat. I feel myself receding in a way that I’m guessing is not unusual for Leslie when she’s with her family.

I become nostalgic for that first waking moment of the morning, back before I had any idea what ugliness the day would bring.

We sit down this time in the den. Or, rather, Owen, our mother, and I sit down—Owen and me on the couch, our mother in a nearby chair. Our father hovers over us. Our grandmother stays in the doorway, as if she’s keeping lookout.

“You are a
drug dealer
!” our father yells.

“I am
not
a drug dealer,” Owen answers. “For one, if I were a drug dealer, I’d have a lot more money. And I’d have a stash of drugs that you would’ve found by now!”

Owen, I think, needs to shut up.

“Josh Wolf was the drug dealer,” I volunteer. “Not Owen.”

“So what was your brother doing—
buying from him?
”

Maybe, I think, I’m the one who needs to shut up.

“Our fight had nothing to do with drugs,” Owen says. “They just found them on him afterward.”

“Then what were you and Josh fighting about?” our mother asks, as if the fact that these two boyhood chums fought is the most unbelievable thing that’s occurred.

“A girl,” Owen says. “We were fighting about a girl.”

I wonder if Owen thought this one out ahead of time, or whether it’s come to him spontaneously. Whatever the case, it’s probably the only thing he could have possibly said that would have made our parents momentarily … 
happy
might be overstating it. But less angry. They don’t want their son to be buying or selling drugs, being bullied or bullying anyone else. But fighting over a girl? Perfectly acceptable. Especially since, I’m guessing, it’s not like Owen’s ever mentioned a girl to them before.