Break by Hannah Moskowitz

Author:Hannah Moskowitz [Hannah Moskowitz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2009-08-20T00:00:00+00:00

twenty-one

THE NEXT MORNING, MY FEET ARE SHARDS OF glass in a sock. I listen to Jesse on the rowing machine and Will sputtering in his crib until the dizziness tapers enough for me to crawl to my computer.

I Google “broken toes.”

I Google “food allergies.”

I Google “I’m so dizzy I can’t see straight.”

I Google “child abuse.”

I Google “Am I going to die?”

None of the answers are helpful, although the last one takes me to some creepy links that at least distract me for a minute.

The windows flash on the screen, and Jesse’s rowing gets faster and faster. I click on my Favorites folder and bring up one of my beloved Confucianism websites. When that Chinese music starts, I lie down on my floor and close my eyes. Begging to sink in, zone out, ignore the baby.

He shouts something, his eight-month-old version of speech, and I wrinkle my nose.

Shut up shut up shut up everyone just shut up.

Mom yells, “Damn it, Will, stop crying!”

That’s it. I need to do something about these toes. “Jesse!” I bang my cast against the floor. “Jess, come up here!”

The rowing stops. I picture him listening, straining his ears over the baby.

“Jess, come here!”

I picture him considering.

My door opens and there’s Mom, her tawdry pink robe washing her whole face gray, Will propped on her shoulder. “Need something, hon? Why are you on the floor?”

I raise my head. Mom spins. “Just need to talk to Jesse.”

She crosses her arms. “Do you need to talk about last night?”

“I screwed up.”

“I know it was just an accident. And you’re so good with him.”

But . . .

She says, “But you just need to be more careful, Jonah. How are the injuries?”

My voice feels glued somewhere near the crown of my head. When I talk, I sound more like Dad or Jesse than myself. “I’m fine.”

Will starts screaming again, and she says something I can’t hear.

I end up sleeping through the time it takes Mom and Will to leave and Jesse to arrive. He wakes me up with one hand on my chest. “You look like crap.”

“I think I’m sick.”

“I think you’re in pain.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“So what’d you do?”

I point toward my feet. “They need to be taped up. I am so nauseous.”

“Okay. Hold on.” He handles my feet, and I grit my teeth. He starts talking, probably just to distract me. “I did five reps,” he says. “And an hour of rowing. I’m really building up my stamina. I think it’s going to make a difference for hockey. You’re coming to my game tonight, right?”

I try not to moan. “Of course.”

“So . . . what are you doing for Halloween?”

When I was little, I always got mad at Jesse because he wouldn’t come trick-or-treating with me. I don’t know how it took me so long to figure out that it would kill him, but ever since, Halloween gives me a sour sort of taste.

I say, “Will I be able to walk?”

He inhales as the socks come off. “Shit. Yeah, don’t worry. We can work this out.

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