Page 146 of Tiny Fractures

I get up, shower, make myself presentable. No breakfast for me. Eating is forced right now; it’s simply a life-sustaining measure. My mom keeps reminding me that I won’t be any good to Ronan if I don’t stay healthy, and she’s right, of course, but the overwhelming sadness and worry leave me without an appetite.

I couldn’t fall asleep for the longest time last night, even though I was exhausted. Snippets of Zack’s films kept flashing in my mind and they mostly made me smile. It was unbelievably comforting to see Ronan so full of life, even though I was looking for moments caught on camera that may have provided a hint of what he was hiding from all of us for so long. But, with the exception of the occasional sadness in his eyes when he didn’t realize Zack was pointing the camera straight at him or the random bruise on his face or body, Ronan appeared happy and healthy.

I can’t wait for this first week of school to be over. Even though it’s a distraction, the hours spent on campus are wasted because I can’t concentrate. I know Vada, Tori, Summer, and Zack have the same problem because I see them in class with me—see them mindlessly doodling and, more often than not, startled when the instructor calls on them. We’re unable to answer the questions posed because none of us are paying attention. We merely bide our time, waiting for the bell letting us know we no longer need to pretend. I always bolt out those doors as fast as my feet can carry me so I can get to the hospital, get to Ronan.

I decide to wash my hair this morning; it’s long overdue, but I hadn’t been able to muster the strength. I take my time in the shower, washing and conditioning my tresses. I dry off, brush my teeth, get dressed. I let my hair dry, allowing it to do what it wants.

My mom pokes her head into my room at a quarter to eight, checking on me like she has all week. “Were you able to sleep?” she asks, and comes to sit on my bed with me while I tie my red chucks.

“Not really,” I confess.

She puts her left arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for the kind of hug only a mother can give while she strokes my hair with her other hand. We stay silent for a few minutes as she holds me against her. Her steady heartbeat and rhythmic breathing are soothing, and I close my eyes as I relax against her, feeling so overwhelmingly grateful to have my mom.

My heart constricts when I think that Ronan never had that, never had a mother who would drop everything to be there for him, comfort him, hold him. He had a mother who abused him, made him feel unwanted, who hurt him. And I know that even when—not if—he wakes up and his physical wounds heal, it’s going to take a lot longer to claw his way back from the emotional damage. But I plan to be there every step of the way.

My phone notifies me of an incoming text message and my mom releases me from her arms. Vada is waiting for me outside, ready to make the fifteen-minute walk to school. We’ve been walking every morning, rather than driving the short way, most often in silence because what is there to talk about? Only banalities, because talking about Ronan gets us both too upset.

I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and wave to my mom, who remains seated on my bed. She’s worried about me—I can see it in her face—so I give her a small smile. “I’m going to the hospital after class, okay?” I ask. Of course it’s okay; she would never deny me that request.

Outside, Vada is checking her phone as I make my way toward her. She looks up and I see the dark circles under her eyes. She’s been sleeping about as poorly as I have. Ronan is one of her best friends and I know she’s worried sick. She hooks her arm under mine and we walk, silently, until my phone buzzes in my back pocket.

“Have you heard anything yet this morning?” Shane asks as soon as I answer his call. He sounds tired. The collective stress we’re all under is palpable.

“No, you?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “I just tried Steve a few minutes ago, but he didn’t answer his phone. I think I’m going to head to the hospital in a little while; I can’t sit around at home. You guys coming after class?”

He asks this every day, and my answer is always the same—that I’ll be there as soon as I can get out of school.

At school, Vada and I split up. I have Advanced Placement History, which always makes me think of Ronan because he told me the secret to acing this class. “If you have time, stay a few minutes after class lets out and ask Ms. Jennison some random questions about whatever it is you guys are studying. She’ll think you’re super interested. And make sure to pretend to really listen to her, like you’ve never heard anything more riveting in your life. You’ll get an A, no questions asked,” he told me with a chuckle a couple of weeks ago.

“Is that how you aced the class?” I asked him with a giggle.

“One hundred percent,” he said with a mischievous grin.

But I have a hard time paying attention to Ms. Jennison’s ramblings about the War of 1812 today. Pre-calculus passes equally slowly, as does my English class. By lunchtime I’m already ready for the school day to be over, and I seriously contemplate asking my mom to let me leave early so I can get Steve or Shane to come and take me to the hospital with them.

I wander out to the courtyard where I see Vada sitting in our usual spot under the large shady tree with Zack, Summer, Tori, and Cheyenne, all eating their lunches in silence. I join them, dropping my bag into the grass and sitting cross-legged next to Vada. I’m still not hungry but figure I should at least eat my apple, lest I collapse from lack of nutrition. I pull out the apple and my phone, turning it on. My heart stops when I see that I have five missed calls from Steve and two missed calls from Shane.

“Have you heard anything?” I ask the group as I frantically check to see if I have a text message or voicemail. We’re not supposed to use our phones on campus and my hands are sweating as I swipe around on my screen. There’s no message from either Shane or Steve.

“No, why? What’s wrong?” Tori asks as the others stare.

“I don’t know. I have a bunch of missed calls from Steve and Shane.” I look at Vada, who shakes her head. “Screw it,” I mutter and dial Steve’s number, looking around to make sure no teachers are around to confiscate my phone.

“Put it on speaker,” Vada practically begs.

I comply. Everyone is silent as the phone rings.

Steve picks up on the third ring. “Hey! Hold on a second.” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. I hear his shoes scuff against linoleum floor and a door slide open, then shut.

“What happened?” I ask, staring at the grass in front of me, feeling my friends’ eyes on me as they listen intently, too.

Steve lets out a quiet chuckle, sounding elated. “He woke up. Ran woke up.”

My eyes snap to Vada’s as I drop my phone into my lap. I’m overwhelmed with relief, and judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, they feel the same way.

“When?” Vada says loudly so Steve can hear her through my phone.

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