This is What I Did (18 page)

I tried to wake Jack up.

I tried to tell him what they did.

I sort of yelled in his cave: Jack?

The cave:

Me: Jack.

The cave:

And then me louder: Jack!

His head out the hole: What are you doing?! Go to sleep.

And then I said what had happened. I was crying and sort of slobbering and shaking I was so cold from trying to get it off with snow.

And Jack did this: Sort of laugh.

He sort of laughed and said: Go to sleep.

And the head was gone.

This is how the fight between my dad and Jack happened.

After the big blowout bang down crap crap crap crap crap double crap Derby I refused to go to SCOUTS.

Dad wanted to know why.

Dad in my room on Wednesday Scout Night: Hey, Logan, why aren’t you getting ready for Scouts? I could give you a ride.

Me: I’m not going.

Dad: Really? Why not?

Me: I don’t want to.

I sort of yelled it.

Dad: Okay, okay. You don’t have to.

Me: Good.

Dad: Is there anything you want to talk about?

Me: No.

Then all of a sudden Mom was at the door.

Mom: Hey, guys, what’s the word?

Dad: Well, Logan here doesn’t want to go to Scouts.

Mom: What? After that big man-making Klondike Derby campout?

If they only knew.

Me: Yeah. Even after that big man-making campout.

I said it slow and rude.

Mom: Is this about the lost sleeping bag, baby? It’s okay.

Me: I know, Mom. You already said that, like, ten times.

Mom:

Dad:

Mom: Well, then let’s go get shakes. The boys can take care of themselves.

Mom never offered to get shakes or ice cream or candy or anything like that. Never. And especially not without the other kids.

Me: Why?

Mom: Because your dad and I haven’t had a lot of time to talk to you. Just the three of us.

It was something I knew I couldn’t get out of. Their faces showed it.

Me: Fine.

So we went to Iceberg and got shakes.

I felt guilty they were taking me without the others, at first, but then I realized it made sense since everything was about me: Dr. Benson, me getting the best room, the playoff tickets, and now shakes.

In the middle of chocolate chip cookie dough, Mom said: Logan, what’s going on?

I looked at her.

She was all sad again.

Dad: What your mother is trying to say, Logan, is that we love you and we want to help.

Me: Help with what? There’s nothing wrong.

Mom: Come on, Logan. Give us a little credit.

Me: I’m fine.

Dad: At least tell us what happened on the campout. You haven’t talked since you got home and Jack isn’t answering his phone.

Me: It doesn’t matter.

Mom: It does matter. It matters to us and it obviously matters to you.

Me: Uhhh.

Dad: Please?

Me:

Dad:

Mom:

Me:

Mom:

Me:

And then I told them.

I told them about the whole stupid campout.

Every single detail I could because it just came pouring out and I couldn’t stop, but then I did stop when I felt like I was going to go too far. When I felt like I was almost going to tell them everything about even Zyler and Cami.

After that, when we got home,

My dad went straight to Jack and Patsy and Bruce’s house.

In play practice we only had two weeks till the play.

Ms. March: Okay, people. Two weeks left.

Us:

Ms. March: You all need to step it up.

I was nervous because last practice I had to leave for a while to help Mr. Jeffries with something on the tree and they did the Lost Boy and pirate fight scene.

I hoped they didn’t change where I was maybe going to be.

Ms. March: Let’s start with “I Won’t Grow Up.”

I was in that one and everything was the same.

When we got to the fight part, Ms. March said: This scene is still problematic. We might have to restage some of you. Let’s run straight through it and see what we can do.

Me:

And the worst part was right before the scene I saw Laurel in the back of the auditorium talking to Luke.

I don’t think I’m going to get to be in front.

Mom said: Honey, a nice girl called to remind you about a project for Life Skills.

Me:

I had no idea.

Mom: She didn’t leave her name but she said you were in charge of corn dogs and she wanted me to tell you word for word “Cigar? Toss it in a can. It is so tragic.” Is that for health or something?

Me:

Laurel: Get down!

Me:

Laurel: You just don’t get it. We are being watched. Very carefully.

Me: Whatever.

And then I thought this: What am I doing here? She never really talks to me except behind these bushes.

And I said this: I’m not going to meet you anymore.

Laurel: Why?

And her nose was so crooked.

Me: Because I don’t want to.

Laurel: Why not?

Me:

And then I started to get up.

But she grabbed my hand.

She really grabbed it and yanked me down and kept holding my hand.

Laurel: Listen, Logan. If we’re going to be friends you should probably tell me what happened at your old school and everything.

Me:

She was still holding my hand.

Me: Nothing happened.

Laurel: Come on.

Me: I can’t.

Laurel: You can tell me. I promise I won’t hate you or anything like that.

Me:

I sort of wanted to tell her. To be friends and everything and so she would know the truth.

Laurel: Please?

Me:

Her face — which was usually so loud and whatever she wanted and crooked nose and black pirate makeup — was different.

And I felt sad.

I said: I don’t know.

Laurel:

Me:

Laurel:

Me:

Laurel:

Me: See, now you’re not talking.

And she really wasn’t. She was just sitting there — her head against the orange brick of the building. Her eyes closed.

I guess she didn’t care if her hair got dirty.

Me: Laurel?

Laurel:

Me: Are you okay?

Laurel:

Me: Laurel?

I wasn’t sure if she was breathing.

But then, finally, she opened her eyes.

Her: Please?

Me: Why do you want to know so bad?

Her: I don’t know. Maybe because I think we should be friends. I really want you to be my friend and I don’t know if I can until I know you’re not what they say.

Me:

Dr. Benson says talking about it or going over it will make it better.

He says I have to.

He doesn’t know.

I said to him: No.

Dr. Benson: Logan, it’s never going to be easy.

Me: I know that.

Dr. Benson: But if you can just get it out it will be a big relief.

Me:

Dr. Benson: Could you at least write it down?

Me:

Dr. Benson: Go somewhere alone and just write it out?

I don’t think it will make me feel better.

But maybe.

To just write it all out, even the stuff I’ve never told anyone.

So many people wanted to know what happened.

Where he went after.

I have no idea, I’d say.

That’s all.

But I knew.