When Reason Breaks (21 page)

She holds the wishbone out to me.

Ripped from the turkey's chest,

The blood is gone, the bone is dry.

A plaything in our hands.

I hold my breath and yank my side.

Snap. I lost. She asks me:

So, sister, what did you wish for?

I don't want to hurt her:

A girl who dances through the house

To a tune in her head.

A girl who points out birds and bugs

Like they are new to her.

I wished for a pony, I say.

She laughs, which makes me smile.

So what did you wish for? I ask.

To be complete again.

She looks down at the broken bone,

Clutches it tight and smiles,

As if the pieces weren't cracked,

As if time could rewind.

Elizabeth stood frozen as the blood drained from her face. Her vision blurred and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“Are you okay?” Kevin asked.

“No.”

Kevin grabbed her arm near the elbow; she clutched his forearm for support.

“You need to breathe,” he said. “Breathe deeply. Come on … in and out … deeply.”

Elizabeth inhaled, filling her lungs to the bursting point, and then released the air in a steady stream. As she did this again and again, blood rushed through her body: up her calves and thighs, down her arms, and into her fingertips. Her eyes danced and her hands quivered from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. A million thoughts flooded her mind, and then one needed her immediate attention.

She stood straight and released Kevin's forearm. He dropped his hold, but his hand lingered in case he needed to grab her again. She shoved the paper into Kevin's chest and
ran at full speed through the hallway, dodging slow-moving students and ignoring teachers' calls to walk. She flew down a flight of stairs and sprinted through another hallway to reach the journalism classroom.

The room was empty, as expected, since students were selling newspapers throughout the building. She marched to the back of the classroom, where a door led to a former storage area now used as an office. Tommy heard the footsteps and got up to see who it was. He bumped into Elizabeth as she raced through the doorway. He stepped back and laughed.

“Hey, sorry, I didn't see you coming,” he said.

Elizabeth pulled back her fist and launched it forward, punching Tommy hard in the stomach.

His body bent forward from the hit, his hand instinctively moving to his stomach. She lifted an open palm, ready to slap him in the face, but he raised an arm and blocked her.

He backed off with both hands in front of him.

“What the hell, Elizabeth? What are you doing?” he asked with a nervous laugh in his voice.

“You had no right! You had no right!” she yelled as she slapped at his hands and arms. “Those are my thoughts and feelings! You had no right to publish it! Who do you think you are?!”

Tommy grabbed her by the wrists to stop her from thrashing him.

“Stop. Elizabeth, stop.” He wasn't laughing anymore. He pulled her close to him, still holding her wrists. “Calm down.”

After a few moments, her fists unfurled, but her body remained tense. Her breathing came in short bursts, like a bull snorting between attacks.

“Let me go,” she ordered through gritted teeth.

Tommy did and raised his hands in the air, like a criminal does when caught. After a second, he dropped his hands to his sides.

They stared at each other.

“Kevin said you agreed,” he said.

“I said I'd write one for you. I didn't know you had one.”

Tommy sighed and ran his hand over his head.

“How did you get it?” she asked.

“Emily Delgado …”

Without hearing another word, Elizabeth ran out of the room and headed back toward her first period class. As she maneuvered around students, the same teachers told her to slow down. She nodded at them and kept running.

Elizabeth spotted Emily's brown hair in the near distance as the girl approached Ms. Diaz's classroom. Elizabeth ran at full speed until she was directly behind Emily. Without breaking her stride, Elizabeth bent her arms at the elbows and then released them into Emily's back. Students gasped and moved out of the way. Emily tumbled to the ground. Her outstretched arms saved her from falling face-first to the floor.

After a few moments, she pushed herself to her knees and placed a foot on the floor. Someone screamed at her, but she couldn't make out the words. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. She wanted to stand up and see who pushed
her. She hoped it was an accident, someone running while messing around with a friend.

She turned her body to face the screaming. Elizabeth's face told her this wasn't an accident.

“You had no right!” Elizabeth yelled.

“What?” Emily asked in a low voice. Her hands and knees ached, but she tried to stand. As Emily looked up, Elizabeth's fist came down hard and fast. Emily was back on the floor. She didn't try to get up this time. She propped herself up with her elbow and clutched her cheek with her other hand. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over.

She stared at Elizabeth who was still screaming. Emily could only hear a ringing sound in her ear. Through her tears, she saw other students near them and teachers running toward them. She forced herself to focus, to hear what Elizabeth was yelling.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Emily looked directly at Elizabeth. “I'm nobody,” she said evenly.

Elizabeth stopped, her eyes locked on Emily's, her pulse racing. She began to breathe deeper, slower, when Ms. Diaz grabbed her arm right above the elbow.

“Elizabeth …” Ms. Diaz's calming voice was near her ear. The tension and anger drained from Elizabeth's body, while sorrow and regret filled her up. Elizabeth shut her eyes as the tears came.

The principal arrived and helped the teachers to disperse the crowd before he turned his attention to Elizabeth. Ms.
Diaz let go of Elizabeth's arm, walked to Emily, and crouched down to help her off the floor.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked at Emily, who was still on the ground and staring directly at her. She held Emily's gaze as long as she could before the principal ordered her to turn and walk.

In the main office, Emily sat at a small table near the secretaries' desks. She pressed an ice pack to her cheek, a few minutes at a time, for as long as she could stand the cold. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her face splotchy red.

Tommy sat in a chair on the other side of the table. He pushed the chair a few feet away to create some distance between him and Emily. He knew she did nothing wrong, that he alone made the decision to publish the poem. He looked at her with pleading eyes, waiting for a moment to apologize. Emily was uninviting. She either closed her eyes or stared at a spot on the table in front of her.

Tommy peered over his shoulder at Elizabeth, who sat away from her victims at a desk outside the principal's office.

Elizabeth sat sideways so the desktop was to her right.
She was bent at the waist, her feet flat on the floor, her elbows on her knees and her head cradled in her hands. She stared at the ground and rocked back and forth.

“Hey,” Tommy called to her.

“No talking, please,” a secretary said curtly.

Elizabeth raised her head.

“I'm fine. No damage done. I'm so sorry,” he said.

“I said no talking, Mr. Bowles,” the secretary said forcefully.

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “It won't happen again.”

“You are still talking.”

Tommy pulled two fingers across his lips, miming that he was “zipping it.”

After a few moments, Kevin walked out of the principal's office. He was called in to explain what had happened before the incident.

“You are one crazy girl,” he said, pointing at Elizabeth.

“That's enough,” said the principal. “Please go back to class.”

Kevin stopped at the table and patted Tommy on the back. “Emily, are you okay?” he asked softly. Emily kept her eyes closed, her face pressed against the ice pack. She shook her head, no.

“Good-bye, Mr. Wen-Massey,” said the principal, who led Kevin out of the office by the elbow. “You're next, Mr. Bowles.”

Tommy stood up and said, “I'm sorry,” to Emily, even though she wasn't looking at him and didn't respond.

Elizabeth kept her head in her hands as Tommy walked by her. He gently placed his hand on the top of her head. Warmth ran down Elizabeth's neck. She closed her eyes tighter and stopped rocking. Tommy then went into the principal's office and shut the door behind him.

Soon after, Ms. Diaz entered the office. She knew she couldn't get involved, but she could offer a little support. She lightly squeezed Emily's shoulder. Emily managed the slightest of smiles, but quickly returned to her previous pose.

Ms. Diaz grabbed a chair and sat across from Elizabeth. The whites of her eyes were streaked with red, spiderweb veins.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and said, “What have I done?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“She got my poem somehow. He published it.” She added in a whisper, “It was about my dad.”

Ms. Diaz sighed. “I understand, but …”

“I know,” said Elizabeth. “What I did was inexcusable. I'm a horrible person. Kevin's right. I'm crazy.”

“You're not horrible or crazy. We all make mistakes. Big ones. Grand Canyon-size mistakes.”

“Yeah, this is a big one,” said Elizabeth. “I deserve whatever I get. I'll be suspended.”

“Yes,” Ms. Diaz said.

“Will I be expelled?”

“I don't think so.”

“Will I be arrested?”

“Maybe.”

“My mom is going to kill me.” Elizabeth dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

Unsure of what to say, Ms. Diaz let her cry.

“I'm not even so worried about the punishment part,” Elizabeth said. “I mean, I'm not thrilled about being suspended, and I'll be devastated if I'm arrested, but that's not what scares me most.”

“What is it, then?”

“I couldn't stop myself, Ms. D. It was like that day with my dad.” Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her stomach and leaned her head against the wall. “I feel sick.”

“That's actually a good thing,” said Ms. Diaz. “It means you don't want something like this to happen again. Maybe this is the moment when something clicks inside you and things will start to change.”

“I don't know … I don't hear anything clicking.”

Just then, the bell rang.

“Hold on,” said Ms. Diaz. She stood and jogged down the short hallway that led to the adjoining guidance offices. Ms. Gilbert's door was closed with a “Do Not Disturb” sign on it. She returned to Elizabeth.

“I have a class, but I'll talk to Ms. Gilbert and the principal,” she said. “I'm monitoring Saturday detention. I'll ask the principal if you can start your punishment tomorrow so we can talk some more. Even if he says no, come to the school anyway. Have your mom call me if it's a problem. Promise me you'll come.”

Elizabeth nodded and then dropped her head into her hands.

Ms. Diaz walked into the main office and ripped a piece of paper from a pad on the front counter. On it, she wrote:

Suzanne
,

Elizabeth is in crisis. You need to talk to her ASAP. Call me when you can
.

–Emilia

Ms. Diaz folded the note and handed it to the secretary.

“Please give this to Ms. Gilbert as soon as possible. It's urgent.”

Remember when I said my plank in reason broke? That I was falling and would hit the ground at some point? It happened. Of course, it happened. Before yesterday, every part of me ached. After what happened, I was completely numb, like every inch of me was wrapped tight in an Ace bandage
.

I read Dickinson's poem “The Soul has Bandaged moments –” and it made me think. A bandage covers a wound and helps it to heal, but it also masks the hurt. And if the broken part of you is bound too long or too tightly, doesn't it make everything worse? At some point, don't you have to rip off the bandage, expose the wound, and deal with the pain? So whether you're injured or healing, it hurts
.

I guess numb isn't so bad, then, because I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to hurt anyone else, either. I hope you understand now that I cared and tried to fight the monster inside me, but it won. Please don't worry, Ms. Diaz, I'm not afraid. I know it's the right thing to do. As I finish writing this, I feel stronger than I've felt in a long time. I'm ready for what comes next
.

Elizabeth smacks her alarm clock, shutting it off seconds after it screams for her attention. She rolls over and pulls her comforter tight around her. She's exhausted but needs to get up. She doesn't expect sleep to come but hopes for a few more minutes of quiet before she has to face the day.

Her eyes are shut tight, but she can't escape the sights and sounds of the rage, pain, and humiliation that started in school yesterday and followed her home. She wants to stay in bed but this won't help her situation. Her mom will freak out if she wakes up and finds Elizabeth home instead of at Saturday detention.

She must leave the house, but where will she go? She hadn't decided before going to bed: the park, the cemetery, or the woods near the high school? She sits up and pushes
herself out of bed to start her morning routine. When she's ready, Elizabeth stops once more in the hallway bathroom. She opens the medicine cabinet, pops open a bottle, and tosses four pills into her mouth. She swallows them easily with a handful of water. She studies herself in the mirror for a second and shakes her head.