A Certain October by Angela Johnson

Author:Angela Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

I SAY IT’S LIKE HICCUPS YOU CAN’T GET RID OF. Falcone’s sitting at the foot of my bed with his iPod, and Misha is kicked back on the beanbag. I don’t want to complain because they are my serious boy and girl—but they never let me out of their sight anymore. The hiccups part isn’t them though. It’s how everything was going and how it is now. Hiccup.

One minute I was on a train with a boy who I’d ignored since he put gum in my hair when we were six, the next minute I was laughing with the boy who put gum in my hair, and the minute after that he’s lying three feet away from me and won’t ever go home again.

Half of Keone’s bones are broken.

I got bruises and a twisted knee.

Life is stupid.

But Misha’s on a mission. I’ve been on one of Misha’s missions, and it’s not always a safe place to be. But I think she’s going on this mission because of me. She wants me to forget. I remind her about the vendetta she has against Mrs. Williams who seems to have an obsession with her tattoo showing at homecoming. She rails against closed minds and the status quo until I think I need a nap.

I’m willing to forget. But I don’t think three weeks is time enough to forget a train wreck or reporters calling our house or Laura threatening their lives if they kept calling. Three weeks isn’t enough to forget that Keone’s little body is lying in a hospital bed broken and the few words he used to say are all gone. Three weeks isn’t enough time to wrap my brain around any of it.

Hell—I’d like to take my brain right out of my head and mail it to a water park. Or I’d like to go on a bubble bath and Cheetos vacation.

“. . . think we should, Scotty?”

“What?”

Misha inhales and looks at me like I’m a little kid who just had an accident on the floor. She wants to scream, but she knows I can’t help myself—at least not right now, anyway.

“Do you think we should what?”

Misha crawls over to the bed and climbs up on the bed next to me. She looks at me, exhales, then hugs me.

Damn. Hugging. I didn’t think she’d do that. I thought maybe—I guess I thought I could count on Misha to be more tough love. I didn’t expect the hugging. Falcone acts like he isn’t even in the room. Too much hugging and sympathy is bound to make him run out the room, down the hall, and out of the door. I feel sorry for him. But mostly I feel real sorry for me right now ’cause all I want to do is not have Misha have that Oh you poor thing look on her face.

Damn. Accepting condolence is hard. And painful. And it makes you remember.

Falcone leans back and tries to transport his body someplace else with just the power of his mind and the candy bar he’s started eating.

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