Trapped (9 page)

Billy tells Dr. Mac he's OK, too. But he's holding his arm, and there's dirt all over his face.

“I don't know what's come over you,” Dr. Mac says, turning toward Sage. “Your parents would be shocked to see this.”

Sage has the decency to look guilty. And a little scared. “Are you going to tell them?” he asks her, ducking his head.

“No,” says Dr. Mac.

Sage looks relieved.

“You are,” she finishes.

Sage groans and throws up his hands. “Oh, man! I know I lost it a little. But this guy deserves—”

“Violence is never an answer,” Dr. Mac cuts in. “Plain and simple. And your sister certainly didn't deserve to get hit.” She shakes her head and turns to go back inside. “I'll get Brenna an ice pack for her lip. Then you're going to drive her and Billy both home. Can you do that, Sage? No talking, no fighting, just straight home. Then you can clue your parents in to exactly what kind of day you had.”

Sage looks defeated. I know he thinks a lot of Dr. Mac. It must be hard to have her so mad at him. And he absolutely won't meet my eyes.

“And don't forget to tell them they'll have a new guest coming to stay in a couple of days,” Dr. Mac says over her shoulder. “It looks like the fawn is going to make it.” Then she heads back inside, shepherding my friends along with her.

Maggie turns to look back at me. “Call me,” she mouths, holding a pretend phone to her ear.

I climb into the truck first so Billy doesn't have to sit next to Sage. Sage starts the ignition and drives off. Nobody says a single word.

Sage pulls into Billy's driveway, behind a rusty old white car that must be Billy's mom's. Billy opens the door and hops out. He's still holding on to his arm. I roll down my window. “Bye,” I say.

“See you,” he answers. “And ... thanks.”

I'm not sure what he's thanking me for. The ride? The lecture on the evils of trapping? The fact that I didn't let my big brother beat him to a pulp?

“You're welcome,” is all I can think to say.

Sage guns the engine before the words are all the way out of my mouth, and he speeds out of the driveway.

“Sage,” I say, as soon as we're back on the road. “What is up with you?”

“Up?” he asks, as if he doesn't know what I'm talking about.

“You never used to be this way.” I look out my window, away from his sullen face.

“Well, maybe I am now. Maybe you'll just have to get used to it.” I glance over at him and see that he's gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white.

I refuse to accept his answer. I'm not ready to give up my brother in exchange for this stranger. “Come on, Sage. Billy isn't a monster. He's just—”

“Brenna, you don't get it, do you?” Sage asks. He's staring hard at the road, and he's still gripping the steering wheel. At least he's driving carefully. “All of our lives, we've helped Mom and Dad take care of animals. Healing critters is what our family does. Why would you want to have anything to do with someone who hurts them?”

I'm not sure how to answer. A few days ago, I felt the same way that Sage does toward Billy. But now I feel like I can sort of see Billy's side of the story, and I think I've helped him see mine. I still don't agree with what trappers do, but violence and revenge aren't the answer. They don't solve the problem, and innocent people (like me!) can get hurt.

Mom is definitely right—things are not always black and white. More like black and blue! But how can I explain all of this to Sage?

He doesn't wait for me to think it through. He pulls into our driveway, parks the truck, and turns to me. “You can't have it both ways, Brenna. Either you're on the side of the animals or you aren't. Which is it going to be? You have to decide.” Then he opens his door, gets out, and slams it shut.

He starts to walk away, but then comes back and opens the door again. “Oh, and by the way, I want that spring back,” he adds.

When I don't answer, he slams the door again. I watch him stride toward the house. I never knew you could miss somebody so much, even when they were right there in front of you.

I want my brother back.

Chapter Eleven

E
veryone is pretty quiet at dinner that night. I think Mom and Dad are still in shock about the fight. When they heard what happened, they said they needed time to “process” everything before we discussed it together.

And they don't even know yet who Billy is, why Sage got in a fight with him, and what we were doing at the clinic in the first place.

I know I have to tell my parents about going to Billy's house and rescuing the fawn, since the fawn is coming to stay with us. But for the moment, I'm just not ready to talk about it. I pick at my black bean burrito, avoiding Sage's eyes.

He's not looking at me, either.

Jayvee doesn't seem to notice that anything is wrong. He chatters away about his day at school, his upcoming birthday, and his best friend's new hamster. Mom and Dad laugh at his stories, and he loves all the attention.

“OK, buddy,” Mom finally says to Jayvee, after we've finished dessert. “Bathtime for you. I'll be up later to read a book with you.”

Jayvee heads upstairs.

“Tea?” Dad asks the rest of us, getting up to put the kettle on. He brings mugs, honey, and milk to the table. “It's time to talk.” Mom nods in agreement.

Sage looks away. But at least he doesn't get up and storm off like he's been doing lately.

“Brenna, why don't you start?” she asks. “Tell us the whole story, from the beginning.”

The beginning seems like a long, long time ago. I can't believe it's only been a few hours since I left school. “We took a fawn to Dr. Mac's today,” I say, after a moment. “Sage and I.”

“Wait a minute right there,” Mom says. “You moved a fawn? On your own?”

“What were you thinking?” Dad interjects. “You know how dangerous that is.”

I roll my eyes. Do I have to go through this again? “I know,” I say. “I'm sorry. I promise it'll never happen again.”

Mom tightens her lips and shakes her head.

Dad looks mad, too. “Well, that explains where Sage went in such a hurry today.” But then his voice softens. “So, does this mean we're going to have a new guest soon at the critter barn?”

“Dr. Mac thinks so,” I tell him. “We thought the fawn had a broken leg, but it didn't. Just some barbed-wire cuts.”

“And where did you find this fawn?” Mom asks, trying to remain calm.

I take a breath. “I didn't find it,” I confess. “Billy did. Billy Morrison. He's the person who set the trap that caught Chico. That's why Sage started the fight with him.”

Mom and Dad just nod. “So he called here, looking for help?” Dad asks.

“Not exactly.” This is the hard part. “I went to his house.”

Mom gasps. “Brenna!”

“I know,” I say “But, really, it wasn't dangerous. I just wanted to talk to him. And it turned out that he'd found this fawn in his yard, so we took it to Dr. Mac. That's the whole story.”

“Most of it, anyway,” Sage says now. “But you've heard the rest. About how I ended up—you know, hitting Brenna.” He glances at me, then looks away.

Poor Sage! He must really be feeling guilty about what he did to me, even if he's still mad that I stuck up for Billy. I want to tell him that my mouth doesn't even hurt that much anymore, that the swelling is going down. That I've forgiven him. But he won't give me the chance.

“Hold on,” Dad says. The kettle is whistling. He gets up to make a pot of tea.

“Actually,” I say, “I don't think I want any tea. I'm going upstairs, if that's OK. Homework.” Sage has a lot of stuff to work out with Mom and Dad, and I have a feeling that he'll have an easier time of it if I'm not there.

Why do I care? Good question. All I can say is that I do. I'll always care about Sage. He's my brother.

“Good luck,” I mouth to him as I walk past. I'd hate to be in his shoes right now. Mom and Dad are really disappointed in him. I don't know if they'll tell him he's grounded, or what. It almost doesn't matter. Disappointing my parents is usually punishment enough.

When I get to my room and unload my backpack, I realize that homework is the last thing I feel like doing. Instead, I go out into the hall and get the phone to call Maggie.

It's a relief talking with her. She's been through this whole thing with me, practically, and it helps to go over it all together.

Maggie's glad to hear that my fat lip is already better. She tells me the fawn is doing well. “And Chico's better, too,” she says. “He even ate a little of his dinner.”

That's good to hear. “It was pretty awesome how he took the biscuit from Billy,” I say.

“Billy? What, so now you're best buds with the guy?” she asks.

“Maggie, he's not really that bad. Ask Dr. Mac. He knows all about the woods, and he really does care about animals.”

“Right. He cares about trapping them.” Maggie is unconvinced.

“He only does it for the money,” I say. I can't believe I'm defending Billy Morrison. “If he had another way to help out his family, he'd probably quit trapping.”

Did you ever see one of those cartoons where a character suddenly has a lightbulb appear over his head?

Corny, I know. But that's exactly what it feels like. I've just had a major brainstorm. “Maggie, I have to go,” I say abruptly.

“What? But—”

“Talk to you tomorrow!” I hang up.

I lie back on my bed to think, my mind racing. As soon as I hear Sage come upstairs, I make my way back down to the kitchen to talk to Dad.

“Hi.”

Billy Morrison looks up from the piece of wood he's sawing. “Hey,” he says. He looks back down and starts sawing again.

It's the next day, after school. I've come to the Morrison house again, this time by myself. And with my parents' permission, too. I have something to discuss with Billy, but it's not about trapping.

I'm not surprised that he doesn't seem thrilled to see me, after everything that happened yesterday. “Sorry about my brother,” I say.

“That's OK.” He's still sawing away. The board he's cutting is laid between two sawhorses in the backyard.

“You made that tree house out front, didn't you?” I ask him.

“Yup.”

It's not going to be easy to get him talking. “And the chairs, the ones on the porch, too. Right?”

“What is this, the third degree?” Billy smiles a little to show he's kidding. “Yeah, I made the chairs. Well, my dad and I did. So what?” He stops sawing and faces me, hands on hips. He's wearing the same red wool jacket that he had on the first time I saw him.

“They're cool, that's all. I noticed them when I was here before.”

Suddenly, I'm feeling a little awkward. I take off my hat and twist it in my hands. “Listen, Billy. If you had another way to make money, would you quit trapping?”

“Depends,” he says. “What exactly did you have in mind?”