Riding Invisible (18 page)

What really grabbed my attention, though, was the fence. A very tall chain-link contraption with rolls and rolls of razor wire along the top. An icy wind came up and whipped itself inside my jacket, making my chest feel cold, almost like it was pressing fearless smoke-filled spikes into my skin.

Back in the rec room I noticed a group of boys crowded in a corner, and they were all laughing about some magazine photos. And in a chair by the fireplace a waaaaay-too-skinny girl slouched like she was in some kind of stupor. Two kids started playing Ping-Pong—
BANG-SMACK, BANG-SMACK
. Were they girls? Boys wearing makeup? One of each?

And then I saw him. Across the room, stretched out on a gigantic black couch. I tried to make myself look tall and smiled when I walked in his direction, but Big Brother didn't even wave when he noticed I was there. His face had started to heal from the accident, his arm still in a cast, now decorated with all kinds of weird crap.

“So how is it?” I asked.

Will seemed hazy-foggy and watched me with ocean-like, sea green eyes, and finally attempted a smile. He sat up and rested his palms on his muscular legs.

“Well, looky who's here. And it is BO-ring in this place.”

“Don't you have school and activities and stuff?”

“Yeah, sure, but not on Saturdays or Sundays. The rest of the time I'm in, like, four classes and therapy, and I've got anger management and private counseling. A bunch of crap. Oh, they have weight lifting, at least. I like the gym. I always have to be someplace or doing homework. They watch us constantly. No chances for slipups. Maybe I'll find a few ways to keep 'em guessing.”

“But you're okay.”

“Pretty much, I think. I mean, the food's not terrible and they have some vending machines with sodas and junk. The bad news is that I already got in a fight the second day when this fat asshole ordered me to hand over my sandwich during lunchtime. But if I don't get in any more trouble, they're gonna let me go home for Christmas. They're real into accountable behavior in this place.”

“I guess that sounds okay.”

Will glanced around, and when he spoke his voice came out hushed. “They said I should apologize. They want me to apologize to you about the horse.”

“You mean for whacking off his tail and cutting him and threatening to feed him rat poison and leaving a horse-slaughter photo in my room? Oh, and let's not forget the whip.”

“Yeah. All that.” Will yawned and bent his arms back to clasp the back of his head.

And that's when Mom and Dad pushed through the swinging doors, and Dad was saying, “That went pretty well except for the increased med dosage.”

Just before they reached the couch where we were sitting, I touched Will on the forearm. “So, you need anything?” Will pulled away and gave me one of those I Hate You Glares, and he kicked his legs back and forth, bumping his calves against the sofa. It made me think about cats and how they twitch their tails when they stalk prey. But Will is trapped in that place, surrounded by razor wire, and I don't have to be afraid of him anymore. So I stared back, this stranger, my brother, same blood as me. At that moment something finally created this clear sense of reality. Part of me realized that maybe this place might work for my brother. Maybe I could end up with a true
HERMANO
, a best friend, someone who's not going to pound me into the dirt every chance he gets. And maybe Will
IS
going to become a famous race car driver way off in the future. There's this mind movie I could design with him looking way cool, all fearless and risking his life, almost rolling his race car when it spins out, and he's a hero in that scene. Will the Big Winner.

But for now, there's this: I am the lucky son, the one with a life and a future. My brother's the one who deserves all the pity.

So Mom and Dad and I said good-bye to Will, and when we left, Mom let me drive her car, and she also let me borrow her new Hands-Free apparatus with the earplug, so I could call Christi.

First thing Christi said: “Did your parents sign your application for the Art Club trip?”

And I told her how they said no problem, they'd love a week alone, and I heard Mom and Dad chuckle. And then I asked about her permission form.

“Of course Mom's all stressed about the sleeping arrangements,” Christi said. “But I've actually made some progress, so she'll probably sign the papers by tomorrow morning.”

“Death Valley should be awesome in December.”

“Yeah. Cactus and dead lizards. Oh, it'll be so cool to get some digitals with my new camera. You know how sometimes you buy an awesome toy and you're all excited about it, but there's this part of you that's saying, like, maybe I should've saved the money and bought somethin' else? Well, I'm not feeling that way about this camera.”

And I told Christi that I knew what she meant. I really got it.

The car shot through the hills, and our connection started to break, and she said, “So in the desert, you and me, we'll talk about our angst…” and before I could tell Christi that yeah, that's a perfect topic, the phone cut off.