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Authors: Sarah N. Harvey

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BOOK: Shattered
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“What if Tyler hates me? What if I can't forgive him either?”

“Then you deal with that. And you still help out.”

I nodded. “Will you come to the hospital with me tomorrow?”

“What time?” Nat said.

After I finished work on Monday, Mom and Dad drove me and Nat to the hospital. Mom said Mr. and Mrs. McKenna were at church. I went in to see Tyler by myself. Mom and Dad went to the patient lounge to play with the recliners.

Nat curled up on a chair in the hall outside Tyler's room. “Shout if you need me,” she said, slipping in her earbuds.

Tyler's eyes opened when I walked in. The head of his bed was raised so he was almost sitting up.

“What happened to your hair?” he rasped.

“Cut it. Dyed it.”

“Were you here before? I think I remember those glasses.”

“I was here last night. You were pretty dopy. But you told me the glasses suck ass.”

He laughed. “Well, they do. The hair's okay though.”

“Thanks.” I sat on the visitor's chair beside the bed and picked up the zombie snow globe. “I was here a few times. No one knows. I brought you this stuff.”

I shook the snow globe, and he smiled.

His teeth looked gray and a bit fuzzy.

“Zombies. Cool,” he said. “Thanks.

I wish I could say I remember you being here, but I don't.”

“Do you remember anything? How you hurt yourself? How you got here?”

He shrugged. “Not really. I was at the party. And now I'm here. I must have slipped.”

I swallowed. It felt as if I had a brick in my throat. He didn't remember. Maybe he never would. Then I took a deep breath and said, “I pushed you.”

“What?”

“I caught you screwing Kayla. I was pretty mad. I pushed you, and you hit your head.”

“Kayla? I screwed Kayla?”

“You don't remember?”

He shook his head and winced. “I remember drinking a lot of vodka. But I don't remember Kayla being there. Or you. I must have been really hammered. I'm sorry.”

“That's it?” I said. “You're sorry?”

“I'm the one who ended up in a coma, March. Not you,” he said. “What happened after you pushed me?”

“I checked to make sure you were alive and then I called nine-one-one.”

“And then what?”

“And then I left.”

“You left.”

The words sat in the air between us, cold and heavy.

“Yes.”

“You bitch. I could have died.”

“I know. But you're okay now…”

Tyler stared at me, and then said, “Get out.”

“Tyler—”

“Get out!” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and threw it at me. I ducked, and it splashed against the wall behind me.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I'm really sorry.”

“Get out.” He fell back against the pillows and turned his head away from me. I think he was crying.

Nat was waiting for me in the hall.

Behind us, something thumped against the door.

“Zombie snow globe,” I said.

“If you say so,” Nat said.

Chapter Fifteen

The McKennas banned me from visiting Tyler after that. Mrs. McKenna told my mom that Tyler didn't need “March's toxic drama.” But I'm pretty sure he didn't tell them what happened at the party. About a month after my last visit, I got a long rambling text from him. He said he'd started going to church again, and he was trying to forgive me. He was looking forward to going back to school and hoped it wouldn't be awkward. He was sorry for what happened with Kayla, but he thought we'd been heading down a wrong road anyway. The “incident” had been a wake-up call. A game-changer. He wasn't drinking anymore. He wasn't going to be playing contact sports. He sounded like a total stranger. Maybe it was the brain injury. Maybe not. I'd never know for sure.

I spent a couple of days crying after I got that text. All the pain came back. Worse than before. It felt shitty. Really shitty. But in a way, it was like we were even. He hurt me. I hurt him. I was trying to forgive him, and he was trying to forgive me. He was going to be okay. So was I. Maybe I didn't have my perfect life anymore, but I had something different. Something better.

“You've changed,” Nat said one day in late August. She was leaning on the counter of Castle Gifts, watching me cash out. “And I don't mean just your hair.”

“I like my hair. It's easy.”

“Wouldn't hurt to touch up your roots though,” Nat said as I locked up.

“Maybe get a professional to tidy it up.”

“I guess. I'll do it before we go back to school, okay?”

Nat nodded. “At least you're not wearing your mom's clothes anymore.” She shuddered. “And the runners…”

I laughed and looked down at my feet. I had bought some new sandals the week before. Comfortable but cute. That was my new motto.

We passed Hazel's corner on our way to Lens Crafters to choose new frames. I hadn't seen her since the day of the haiku. I checked her corner every day on my way to and from work, but it was always empty. As if it was waiting for her.

Someone called my name. I turned and saw a skinny girl with a shaved head and a lot of piercings standing in the alcove where Hazel used to sit.

“I've got something for you,” she said.

“You know this chick?” Nat asked.

“Nope,” I said.

“I'm a friend of Hazel's,” the girl said.

I stepped toward her, and she opened her denim jacket. A small gray head peeked out.

“Basho!” I cried. “Where did you get him? Where's Hazel?”

I reached out and Basho jumped into my arms.

“She's gone,” the girl said. “After she got out of rehab, her folks came and got her. Took her back to Alberta.”

Rehab. That explained a lot.

“Why didn't she take Basho?” I asked.

Basho butted my hand with his head.

The girl shrugged. “Dunno. Allergies, maybe? She told me your name. Where to find you. She said you'd pay me.”

“She did?”

“March, it's a scam,” Natalie hissed.

“Hazel's probably at some crack house waiting for the money.”

I ignored her and handed the girl most of my cash. My new glasses could wait.

“Hazel said you'd do the right thing.”

The girl turned and walked away from us. Basho nibbled my hand.

“You hungry, little guy?” I said.

“Yeah, and probably flea-infested too,” Nat said. “But he is kinda cute.”

I nodded and buried my face in Basho's fur.

Dear Augie,

I've been memorizing a poem for you. I found it in a book I bought at a secondhand store. It's called “The Waking.” It has the best last stanza ever. Even better than “Sestina.”

This shaking keeps me steady. I should
know.

What falls away is always. And is near.

I wake to sleep, and take my waking
slow.

I learn by going where I have to go.

I recite it to myself every night before I go to sleep. I imagine that somewhere in Alberta Hazel is listening. I'm working on Mom and Dad to let me visit you in Germany. I've already signed up for a German class at school. And it turns out my boss, Jason, knows German too. You'll meet him and the twins when you visit. I can't wait to see you.

Ich liebe dich,
March

Acknowledgments

Many thanks, as always, to Andrew Wooldridge for his unwavering support and his weird sense of humor. Thanks, too, to Robin Stevenson, whose friendship, encouragement and compassion brighten my life.

Sarah N. Harvey is the author of eight books for children and young adults. Some of her books have been translated into Korean, German and Slovenian, none of which she speaks or reads. Her novel,
The Lit Report
, has been optioned for a feature film. She will not be in it. She lives and writes in Victoria, British Columbia, where she is determined to learn how to salsa dance, study Italian and overcome her fear of flying (in no particular order). For more information, visit
www.sarahnharvey.com
.

BOOK: Shattered
5.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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