Chapter 3

I felt sorry for Cassie, and I wasn't sure why she stuck around all morning. I probably hadn't said ten words to her since she arrived three hours earlier, which was even before they normally allowed visitors. I imagine that sitting in a hospital room with a bruised up guy and his mother was still better than sitting in class all morning. Besides, she'd seen me look worse. Hell, she'd FUCKED me when I looked worse. The day after The Party, when Mike Vincent flattened me with one punch, the whole side of my face was swollen and purple, and my eye wouldn't open, yet we had sex for the first time then.

My pain had subsided to a dull, full-body ache. There were some residual sharp pains in my head and knee, but nothing very bad as long as I didn't move too much. I looked from Cassie to my mom. They luckily were both in my field of vision, so I didn't have to turn my head. Mom was patting Cassie on the arm and giving her a sympathetic smile, then they both glanced at me before resuming their conversation. I didn't have a clue as to what they were talking about, but I realized they were now pretty comfortable with each other. Cassie hung out at my house often enough that they'd gotten to know each other pretty well.

An image of Fuzz suddenly flashed uninvited into my head, and the momentary reprieve from my stupid emotions was over. A lump formed in my throat and my eyes started to burn. I quickly looked away, ignoring the complaint from my aching joints, and hoped that Mom and Cassie hadn't seen me.

A cool hand lay on my cheek.

"Are you OK, Sweetie?" Mom gently asked.

I swallowed my emotions and nodded.

"Do you need anything?" Cassie asked.

"Yeah, to go home," I mumbled.

"We're just waiting for the doctor to give the OK," Mom said, "It shouldn't be much longer."

"That's what they said two hours ago."

"Unfortunately, that's how these things work."

"Well, it's bullshit."

"Now, Brody," Mom chided, though her voice sounded more sympathetic than reproving.

I instantly felt like an asshole for taking my piss-poor mood out on them, but I didn't apologize.

"Do you want me to see what's taking so long, Tracy?" Cassie asked.

"If you don't mind."

"Be back in a minute."

I saw Cassie leave the room in my peripheral vision, so I let the emotional dark cloud overtake me. I laid my head back on my pillow and tightly closed my eyes, squeezing a tear out of each one. They left burning trails down my cheeks. I cursed myself and aggressively wiped at them.

"Oh, Brody," Mom said, and I could hear the sadness in her voice.

We were silent; Mom holding my hand and gently rubbing my arm, me staring at nothing. Cassie eventually came back.

"The doctor is signing the paperwork now. Just another minute or two."

"Did you talk to Jeff last night?" I asked Cassie, without looking at her.

"Yeah," she said. "Um, not last night, this morning."

"How was he?"

When she didn't answer right away, I finally looked at her. She was uncomfortably looking at Mom.

"How was he?" I asked again, with a slight edge to my voice.

She looked at me, and I could see she didn't really know what she should or shouldn't say.

"He was ... working through it."

"What's THAT supposed to mean?" I snapped. Mom squeezed my hand.

Cassie's eyes actually teared up, and she fidgeted in place. "He's ... he's pretty torn up, but it's been less than a day, so..."

I sighed and laid my head back. The nurse decided to make her grand entrance at that moment.

"Looks like you're free to go," she cheerfully said. I frowned at her, but she ignored me. "I just need Mrs. Brown's signature in a couple of places, and we'll be set to wheel you out of here as soon as you get ready."

I tensed up. "Wheel?"

She showed Mom where to sign, then she smiled at me. I'm sure the smile was meant to be comforting, but it just seemed patronizing.

"Hospital policy dictates we take you down to the entrance in a wheelchair. Then you can use the crutches the rest of the way."

I just grunted at that. It was a stupid rule.

Mom finished signing the papers and handed them back to the nurse. She took them and started to leave.

"Just hit the call button when you're ready," she said.

I watched her leave, waited two seconds, then hit the call button. She poked her head in a second later.

"I'm ready," I said, somewhat huffily.

The smile almost slipped from her face. "Well, OK, then. I'll get the wheelchair."

She was gone again and I proceeded to get out of the bed. My knee screamed at me as I swung my legs over the edge, and my head kind of went dizzy as I sat up.

"Careful, Sweetie," Mom said, "Just sit there until she brings the chair."

I shook my head to clear it and started to stand. "I need to take a leak."

I took a step and my knee nearly buckled.

"Let me help too," Cassie said, and I had a woman on each side of me helping me limp to the restroom. Once I got to the doorway, I grabbed it and tried to shrug their hands off my arms.

"I can take it from here."

I felt their hands reluctantly drop from my arms and I shut the door behind me without looking at them. I turned back to lock the door and rested my forehead against it.

Then I cried.

"We're in the lobby," I grumped, "Can't I walk now?"

"Once we get to the entrance," the nurse said, her voice still annoyingly cheerful. I was going to go postal if I didn't get away from her soon.

"Cassie should have the car pulled up in a second," Mom said, as she walked beside us, carrying my crutches.

The timing couldn't have been better. I could see the front nose of Cassie's mom's minivan come into view through the glass door of the hospital and the small group of people milling around outside. I was up on my feet before the wheelchair even came to a stop, which almost sent me toppling over.

"Easy, Brody," Mom said, as she helped steady me.

"I'm fine," I said, as I grabbed for the crutches.

I quickly had them under my arms and was hobbling to the door. I could hear Mom apologizing for my behavior and thanking the nurse. Ms. Ray-of-sunshine said something cheerful in return, which made me frown. Mom was beside me a moment later.

"I know you're hurting, Son," she said, "But that's no reason to treat people rudely."

I ignored her as the automatic door slid open so we could step through. I made eye contact with Cassie who was coming around the front of the van to open my door. Her eyes were wide open and she was glancing at the people. A camera flashed in my face the second I came through the door. I quickly turned my head, only to have another flash blind me. I could hear Mom gasp.

"So how does it feel to be the man of the hour," asked a voice?

Another piped in, "What was going through your mind as you—"

Another voice: "How extensive are your injuries? Is it true that you saved them with a broken leg?"

I staggered back in the face of the onslaught, nearly falling over.

A large man was suddenly beside me, steadying me. "Easy does it, Young Man." He leaned forward, sweeping his arm and clearing out a path to the van. "Please, Folks, give him some room. I'm sure the last 18 hours have been very trying for him."

People moved, but the crowd of 6 or 8 people was still firing questions at me. I was feeling faint. What the hell... ?

"What the hell is going on?" Mom echoed my thoughts. She was at my other side, her expression telling everyone that she was NOT happy at the moment.

The man smiled a big toothy grin. "I'll be glad to explain in a minute. Let me disperse this media hoard."

"Media?" I asked. I mean, obviously it was media—camera flashes, lots of questions—but why would they be here?

The man turned back to the crowd, shielding us from them. "Members of the press," he said, in a booming voice. "Please respect this young man and his privacy during this time. Even though he saved my wife and daughter, he lost a dear friend. I will be holding a press conference at 4:30 this afternoon at my office in the Bartlett Building. I'm sure that Mr. Brown will be available for comments in the next few days."

There was some grumbling, but this man had such a presence that the crowd more or less dispersed. Several were pulling cell phones out as they left. Mom was helping me into the front seat of the van, when the man turned back to us.

"I'm sorry about that, Folks," he said.

"What was that all about?" Mom asked. She sounded exasperated. "Who are you?"

He stuck out his hand. "I'm C.L. Bartlett, and I'm—"

"—in real estate," Mom cut him off as she recognized the name. "Yes, I know. We have a branch office in one of your buildings. Why are you here? Why were those people nearly assaulting us?"

Mr. Bartlett let his hand, as well as his smile, fall, but his expression remained warm and full of concern. "Mrs. Brown, what I was going to say was that I'm the husband and father of the two people your son saved yesterday."

Mom's face softened. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so defensive. I didn't realize..." She took a deep breath. "How are your wife and daughter, Mr. Bartlett?"

"They'll be fine, thanks to your son." He looked past Mom at me. "I'm in your debt, Son. Connie told me all about how you pulled them from the wreckage a moment before their car plummeted to the bottom of the ravine. You are a hero."

My mind was spinning. "What?" What was he talking about? I wasn't a hero. Cassie, who was now in the driver's seat, reached over and squeezed my hand. I glanced at her and she gave me a reassuring smile.

"A hero," she said, "You saved their lives."

"Is that why the press was here?" Mom asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. Local boy rescues woman and her five-year-old daughter moments before they would have been killed. The media drools for headlines like that."

Mom tilted her head. "Especially when the woman and child are the family of one of the most prominent businessmen in the state," she sounded almost ... bitter.

He sheepishly smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'm sure that just added more sugar to their feel-good story."

Mom sighed. "Well, we're glad your family is alright, Mr. Bartlett. As you can see, we are—"

"How can you call it a feel-good story?" I said, anger swelling inside me.

The smile threatened to slip from Mr. Bartlett's face again. "Well, my wife and daughter are still alive—"

"My friend died last night."

The smile did vanish this time, replaced by what appeared to be a sincere look of sadness. "Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to belittle your tragic loss. Sometimes I let my emotions get the best of me."

"Sir, if you want to talk about a hero, talk about Fuzz," I said, tears threatening again, though this time from a combination of frustration and sorrow. "He's the real hero. He's the one who told me to go help them, even though that meant I couldn't get him out. I couldn't..." My voice choked up, and Mom stepped between us.

"Mr. Bartlett, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to take my son home."

"Of course, of course." He looked at me. "I'll talk to the press today, Brody, and maybe you can say a few words in a few days."

I didn't say anything.

"Maybe," Mom said, then shut my door. She slid the rear door open to climb in. Mr. Bartlett stopped her before she could close it.

"I had something I wanted to give Brody, Mrs. Brown. Consider it a token of my gratitude."

I shook my head even as Mom was answering. "We appreciate it, Mr. Bartlett, but Brody can't accept a gift."

"I insist."

"Please, Mr. Bartlett, not now. Give your wife and daughter our best wishes." With that she closed the door. "Please get us out of here, Cassie."

It was quiet in the car as we drove for a few miles. Cassie finally sighed.

"That was crazy."

"Yes, it was," Mom answered. "I appreciate Mr. Bartlett's gratitude, but his timing was a bit poor."

"How do you think the press caught wind of everything?" Cassie asked. "Do you think he leaked it? He almost seems like the kind of guy who would showboat a bit."

"Possibly, though they might have heard about the accident on the scanners, maybe even the identity of the people involved. From there, it probably wouldn't be too hard to track down information on Brody's hospital stay." She took a deep breath. She rubbed my arm from behind. "Are you OK, Brody?"

Sure, Mom, I'm great! Some guy just offered me a reward and the press thinks I'm a hero, all because I let my friend die. Don't worry about me! I'll be just fine and dandy. Fuzz, on the other hand, won't be anything because he's dead. And his family ... bah, who cares about them?

Of course, I couldn't really say that.

"Yeah, I'm OK, Mom."

Cassie hung around for a few hours, but I wasn't much company. She eventually said she needed to get home and left, clearly disappointed. I felt bad that I wasn't receptive of her attention, but I couldn't lift myself out of my funk. Mia called me that evening, then Shay called. I couldn't really talk to them. Not yet. I knew they were worried and disappointed that I wouldn't or couldn't talk, but everything was just too raw. I'd call them in a few days, once I felt better.

I told Mom I wanted to sleep in my room, by myself. She looked disappointed, too, but kissed me and told me she loved me.

How could she love me? How could any of them? I was such a fucking failure.

They made me sit in one of the two dozen chairs beneath the awning. I know they did it because I was on crutches, but all I could think about was that I had a great view of the shiny metal casket and dark gaping hole in the ground behind it. Fuzz's parents wanted me to be a pallbearer, but because I was gimpy, I couldn't actually carry the casket. They had me listed on the funeral program as an honorary pallbearer, whatever that meant. I felt the burning hole in my heart get bigger as I watched Jeff and five other guys carrying the casket from the hearse to the grave. I wasn't carrying the casket because I didn't deserve to carry it, injury or not, and I could tell from the way people looked at me that they knew it.

Jeff sat with Fuzz's family, with Jeff's parents and Fuzz's grandparents behind them. That put me two rows behind Jeff and the Behrs, by my choice, even though Mrs. Behr asked me to sit with them. I didn't feel right about sitting up there. Mom sat beside me. Since I was on the end of the row, Cassie stood beside me with her parents. I don't know who else was there. Friends from school, I guess, and other friends and family. I heard whisperings that some reporters were there, but I didn't see them. I was focused on what was in front of me: the casket, the hole, and Tess Behr, who was wrapped protectively in her mother's arm. Tess was Fuzz's nine-year-old sister, and I knew that she was really struggling from the way she was trembling and hanging onto her mom.

Tess adored Fuzz; absolutely worshipped him. I grumbled more than once about how little privacy she gave him, always wanting to be where he was. He was exceptionally accepting and patient with her, though, and you could tell by the sparkle in his eyes when she was around that he adored her almost as much.

That thought made the hole in my heart burn even bigger.

I glanced to the opposite end of the first row to where Jeff was sitting. He sat still as a statue, all hunched over, staring straight ahead. When the graveside service was over and people began to disperse, they called the pallbearers up to lower the casket into the hole. Someone had to actually touch Jeff and lean in front of him to get him out of his trance. He got up and stumbled to the casket, and I lowered my head in shame. Fuzz and I were friends, but it was NOTHING like Fuzz and Jeff. It seemed that they'd been best friends forever.

Mom put her arm around me and gently squeezed me. I felt the warmth of Cassie's hand on my shoulder. I should have felt comforted, but I didn't. Other than a few awkward words with Fuzz's parents, I hadn't spoken to anyone. I didn't have the balls to talk to Tess or to Jeff. Jeff wouldn't even look at me.

I heard various people quietly speaking to the Behrs as they left. One hushed conversation grabbed my attention, for some reason. I glanced up and saw C.L. Bartlett holding his daughter in one arm with the other around his wife. The little girl had a bandage wrapped around her arm and some bruises on her face. Mrs. Bartlett just had some bruises. She was desperately trying not to cry, but was failing. Mrs. Behr stood up and wrapped the other woman in a hug, which just made Mrs. Bartlett sob. She probably blamed herself for Fuzz dying, too, but I knew better. Her part in everything was an accident. What I did, not helping Fuzz, had been intentional.

Before I knew it, the Bartletts were standing in front of me. Mrs. Bartlett hadn't composed herself yet. She tried several times to say something to me, but couldn't get the words out.

"It's OK, Connie," Mr. Barlett quietly soothed his wife. He looked at me. "She wanted to thank you, but..." his words trickled off.

I stood up, unsteady until I could get my crutches under my arms. I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. She bit her tears back and cautiously hugged me. She held on for several long seconds and I could feel her tears soaking through my dress shirt. She finally released me and tried to smile at me through her tears. Then she took her daughter from Mr. Bartlett's arms and walked away.

We watched her for a few seconds before Mr. Bartlett sighed.

"She's taking this hard, blaming herself for everything." He looked at me. He looked tired, and I guessed they probably had gone through some rough nights in their home. "She really is grateful to you. We all are. Maybe we can talk later, when emotions aren't so raw."

I nodded again.

"Thank you, Mr. Bartlett," Mom said for me.

He glanced at his wife as he pulled something from his pocket. It was a folded piece of paper, and before I could react, he slipped it into my shirt pocket and strode after his wife. I didn't have to see the paper to know what it was.

It felt like he was paying me for offing Fuzz. The hole in my heart became a chasm.

"Save them first," Fuzz says. He grimaces and I try harder to free him. "Now, Brody!"

She sighs. "Wake up, Brody. Wake up."

I jerked awake, sitting up in bed with a gasp. I was panting and sweating. "Wha--?"

Mom's arms were around me. "Shh, it's OK, Baby. Shh ... It was only a dream."

It took me a few seconds to orient myself and get my heart to slow down. Then I went limp in her arms. She held me for a long time. I finally started to wiggle out of her grasp. It felt ... wrong, somehow.

"I'm OK, Mom."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nah, I'm fine. It was just a dream, like you said."

"Brody..."

"I'm fine, I just ... I just need to get back to sleep so that I'm not so tired at school tomorrow."

"Do you need another day? You can wait, if you aren't ready."

I sighed. I wasn't sure I'd ever be ready to go back.

"I'll be OK, Mom. Just ... just go back to sleep."

"I can sleep here. Or ... or you can sleep in my bed." I could tell from her voice that the invitation was from my mother, not my lover. We hadn't slept together since I came home from the hospital, let alone made love. I wasn't sure we ever would again.

"Thanks," I said, "But I just need to sleep alone for now."

She hesitated beside my bed, then reached down and gently stroked my face. "I love you, Brody. I just worry."

"I know, Mom." I tried to give her a reassuring smile. "I appreciate it. Thank you."

She took a deep breath and headed for the door. "Good night, Baby."

"Good night, Mom."

I turned my lamp off and plunged myself into darkness.

"We don't have to go in," Cassie said, "We can just drive right off the lot and play hooky."

I was sitting in the passenger seat of her mom's minivan, staring at the entrance to the school. Things would never be the same. I'd never walk in and see Fuzz flipping through an issue of Revolver at his locker, while Jeff tried to get him to gawk at all the girls that passed by. I sighed.

"It's fine. I have to do it sometime."

"It doesn't have to be today, though. No one would blame you if—"

"I said it's fine," I sharply said. My glance at her was met with an expression of hurt, which instantly made me feel like I was lower than dog shit. I lowered my eyes, and in a more contrite tone, said, "Sorry, but I just want to get this behind me."

"Ok," she said in a tight voice, as she shut the engine off and got out of the van. She opened the sliding door behind the driver's seat and started to get my crutches.

"I don't need those."

She stopped and looked at me like I was crazy. "You damaged ligaments, Brody. It hasn't even been a week."

"Partial tear, and I'm wearing a brace. I'll be fine."

"Don't try to be so macho."

"Don't try to be my mother."

That hurt expression was back. "Fine." She practically threw the crutches back in the van and grabbed her purse and books. She glared at me before she shut the door. "Are you getting out or not?" She didn't even wait for an answer before she slammed the door shut.

"Don't be such an ass, Brown," I mumbled to myself, as I opened the door and eased myself out.

I locked the brace straight, grabbed my backpack and hobbled after Cassie, who was already walking towards the building, a little faster than I thought was necessary. I tried to keep up, but winced when a sharp pain flared in my knee.

"Cassie," I called after her.

She didn't look back or slow down.

"Cassie, wait!"

Still no acknowledgement.

"Please," I pleaded one last time.

She stopped this time and her shoulders slumped, but she didn't turn around. As I caught up with her, I saw her hand go up to her face, and I knew she was wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry," I quietly said.

She whirled around, her red-rimmed, shimmering eyes piercing my heart. "You aren't the only one hurting, Brody."

"I..."

"Fuzz was my friend, too. Maybe I didn't know him as well as you did, but he was my friend, and I hurt because I miss him, too." She wiped at her eyes again. "And I hurt for you," she quietly said.

I could be such a self-centered jerk sometimes. "I know, Cassie, and I'm sorry. I just..." I couldn't think of what else to say, because the truth was that her hurt didn't take my hurt away, and I just didn't have the strength to work through my own. I could ignore the physical pain, but the emotional? How do you ignore that?

She let a frustrated sigh out. "I know you are, but please don't get mad at me because I care about you and want to help you."

"I won't."

We stood looking at each other, obviously not sure how to move past this awkward moment. The bell rang, startling both of us.

"I'll see you at lunch," she said. She looked like she wanted to hug me, but she gave me a half-hearted smile and walked away instead.

I sighed and followed her more slowly into the building. It started the moment I walked through the doors.

"Hey, Brown!"

I turned in the direction of the voice. Two guys I didn't know were standing next a nearby locker.

"Yeah?"

"Way to go, man, saving those people," said one.

"Yeah, good job," said the other

"Brody?"

I turned to see a trio of freshman girls nervously standing beside me. The one who'd spoken to me held her books in front of her chest. When I didn't say anything, she blushed and continued. "I ... we," she said, glancing back at her friends, "Just wanted to say we think it was really brave what you did for that woman and her little girl."

"And we're sorry about what happened to your friend," said one of the other girls.

Not to be left out, the last girl said, "Do you need someone to carry your books to class today?"

"Between the three of us, we have your whole schedule covered," said the first girl.

I was dumbfounded and asked the only question that came to my numb brain. "You know my schedule?"

All three girls blushed this time.

"Um, yeah."

Surreal. I looked up and there was Jeff at his locker about 15 feet away. He was looking right at me. We just stared at each other. His expression was unreadable, then he turned and walked away.

"Bro-deeee!" I recognized the voice this time, and before I could turn, slender arms circled my waist from behind. Kristin leaned around me and smiled sweetly at the girls. "Thanks, Girls, but ... toodle-oo. I've got it from here."

I thought the younger girls would be offended, embarrassed, or something, but their expressions were more awe-filled than anything. I mean, Princess Kristin Franz actually acknowledged their presence. They didn't say anything, though, but they nodded and scurried away after a good five seconds, heads together, whispering, and occasionally throwing looks back in our direction.

"Thanks!" I called after them. They glanced back and giggled their way down the corridor.

I was peeved at Kristin for intruding into my conversation, but I just didn't have the energy to have a confrontation with her. She slid around so she was in my line of sight, and I must admit that she looked sexy enough to knock my irritation down a notch. She wore a shape-hugging western-style shirt that was buttoned up just enough to avoid being obscene, but unbuttoned enough to give everyone an eyeful of her amazing cleavage and the necklace that dangled in it. The shirt was tucked into a pair of tight, hip-hugger jeans, which were in turn tucked into mid-calf leather boots with three inch chunky heels. Her bottle blond hair was pulled back in two pigtail braids that fell just below her shoulder blades.

Regardless of my feelings for Kristin, she was still smoking hot. She almost preened as I let my gaze linger on her. Then she winked at me, and her expression became serious.

"How are you, Brody?" she asked.

I shrugged. "My knee hurts."

"Well, of course it does, and that's what makes what you did so much nobler."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Kristin, I didn't—"