Canary (17 page)

I paused, the spaghetti dangling off my fork, threatening to fall back onto my plate. “Enlist? Enlist for what?”

The six o'clock news continued behind Brett, a brown–haired woman telling the viewers about a massive thunderstorm heading our way, complete with heavy winds and damaging hail.

“I want to enlist in the Army,” my brother said, looking Dad straight in the eye.

“The Army . . .” Dad said slowly. He blinked, waiting for Brett to respond.

“You're crazy. They'll ship you off to war.” My heart pounded. He couldn't be serious. Why would he want to put himself somewhere dangerous?

“Well, I don't 
want
 to enlist,” Brett said, ignoring me. “I'm 
going
 to enlist. I've been thinking about it for a long time. Before you made me go to Beacon, the recruiting officer at Olmstead High was helping me.”

“When did this ever become an option?” Dad said. “I always thought your interest in the military was just for fun.”

“That's where you're wrong, Dad. My interest is what I want to do with my life. I've been talking to Uncle John about it for a while now. He thinks it's a great idea.”

“Uncle John? What kind of rubbish has he been filling your head with?”

“It's not rubbish. It's what I want to do. If you weren't so busy with everyone on your team, maybe you would have noticed what your own son was
interested in.”

Dad wasn't the only one who hadn't been paying attention to Brett. This was all a surprise to me also. Sure, Brett used to beg Uncle John to tell him stories about his days in the Army the minute he walked in our door, and he was always watching those war movies where things blew up all over the place, but I never thought this was something he personally wanted to do. Enlisting was a big deal. The thought surprised me as much as it terrified me.

“You will not enlist,” Dad commanded, interrupting my thoughts.

I bit my bottom lip, forcing myself to stay quiet even though I wanted to get up, shake Brett, and yell at him.

Dad gripped his fork, the tines pressed into the table. I don't think he knew what he was doing,
because he seemed so angry.

I didn't want to get in the middle of another fight, so I kept my eyes on the radars on the screen, big blobs of green and yellow floating behind the weather woman's body, slowly moving closer and closer to our house.

“I'm eighteen, Dad,” Brett said. “I don't need your permission.” He looked in Dad's eyes, holding his gaze, but I could tell from the slight shaking of his hands that he was scared.

My leg itched, an intense itching that got worse when I thought about it, but I didn't want to scratch. I didn't want to make any movements that would remind Dad I was still in the room and potentially cause him to tell me to leave.

“We're not having this conversation, Brett. You're not going to enlist in the Army. The Army is a parasite designed to prey on boys who have no other options. You go to Beacon; you have the whole world in front of you.”

“What are you talking about? The whole world in front of me?” My brother kept his voice even, calm.

It was obvious nothing Dad said would change his mind, and that scared me. I was horrified at the thought of Brett joining the Army.

“You, Brett, are not the type of person who goes into the Army. The Army is for boys who can't get into college. The Army is for boys who aren't responsible enough to make something of themselves in school, to work hard.” Dad was on a roll, spewing out the kind of speech only the privileged could make. A speech for people who would never consider an option like the Army.

Dad's voice only grew louder. “It's a last resort for kids who have spent their whole lives messing up. They fill you with promises to make a man out of you, when what they're really doing is targeting those boys at the bottom. Boys who have messed things up so bad they have no other option.”

Brett broke his gaze with Dad and put his head down. When he brought it back up, his voice was strong and steady. “I 
am
 one of those boys, Dad. You've said yourself I don't have the grades to get into a good college. I don't have any talents or athletic abilities. And every time I start to forget these things, one of your players is more than willing to remind me of what a waste I am. I'm graduating in less than seven months with grades just above failing, a grade point average that's probably not even good enough to get me into a community college, and no one knows where I'm going to go or what I'm going to do after I graduate. If I'm not one of those boys, then who am I?”

When Dad didn't respond, Brett pushed his chair back and left the room.

Brett signed his papers the day Beacon won their thirteenth straight game, a win that had gotten the media talking about championships, attaching Dad's name to all their predictions.

It was an away game, and Brett had promised Dad he'd come watch. They'd had some kind of secret talk the other night in Dad's office, and when they both walked out in good moods, I'd thought I could let go of my fears about Brett enlisting.

It wasn't until I headed back on the team bus with Jack, who was drunk on the win, that I realized Brett had never showed up. I watched Dad at the front of the bus, joking with the assistant coaches, and wondered if he'd also noticed Brett's absence. Dad would be upset he hadn't come. Dad was all about getting us to go to the games to help complete the happy family image he wanted to portray to the Beacon community.

When we got home, the kitchen light was on.

Dad unlocked the door, and in an unusually good mood, continued to talk to me, reliving the glories of the past day.

I followed him into the kitchen, where he looked at the pile of papers on our dinner table, the light
illuminating a bright orange Post-it.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, his mood shifting abruptly.

“What?” I tried to get a look at the pages Dad was now sifting through. The top one had a date circled in red. “What are those?”

“Your brother signed his papers for the Army.”

Dad threw the documents onto the table.

I grabbed them, focusing on the words scrawled on the Post-it: “I'm out celebrating with Julia. You can congratulate me later.”

“He signed papers?” I flipped through the documents and tried to make sense of them. I couldn't believe Brett had enlisted without Dad's approval. “Didn't you two make up? I thought you talked him out of it. Why would he do this?”

“Because your brother doesn't think about how dangerous this can be.” He slammed a fist on the table. For a man who, a few minutes ago, was celebrating a big win, he looked completely defeated. “God damn it, doesn't he realize he's going to kill himself over there?” He walked out of the room.

The door to his office banged shut.

I couldn't stop the tears from falling. I sat and tried to read the papers through watery eyes. I wanted to make sense of what was going on, but it was impossible to focus on the page. All I could think about was what Dad said before he left the room. Brett was doing something that could kill him, and now that he'd signed the papers, neither of us could do anything to stop him.

Brett came home late that night. The door opened and closed downstairs, and footsteps hurried up the stairs. I waited for Dad to come out and say something to Brett, but the house remained quiet.

I spent the morning in my room staring at the wall, trying to wrap my mind around what Brett had done. My heart started to race every time I let my thoughts settle on everything for a moment, and I was overwhelmed at the thought of how much danger Brett was placing himself in. I didn't move for what felt like hours, watching the sky grow from dim to light. The game yesterday seemed so far away I couldn't even remember being happy and cheering the team on.

I needed to talk to Brett. Things might have sucked between us, but what he had done was major. I couldn't ignore his decision.

I knocked on his door and got no response. All I heard was the low hum of music too quiet to identify.

I pounded.

“Go away,” he said.

“Please, Brett, can I talk to you about this?”

“There isn't anything to discuss.”

“There are a million things to discuss. Starting with, this isn't a good idea.”

“I really don't think you're in any position to tell me what's a good idea and what isn't. You haven't exactly been my biggest supporter lately.”

“I don't understand how to support this decision.”

“You don't need to. The choice has been made. Just leave me alone.”

“That's not fair.”

There was movement on the other side of the door, and I thought he was going to let me in.

I was wrong. Music started to blast, and the bass thumped so hard he wouldn't hear me no matter how loud I yelled.

I kicked the door and then headed downstairs.

How had my family gotten here? We were never a family of secrets before, and now it seemed as if we were all hiding things.

I hung out in the family room all day waiting for Brett to finally leave his room, but it never happened. It wasn't until a horn beeped outside that I remembered Jack and I had planned to go to dinner.

Jack continued to beep his horn even when I flashed the front lights to let him know I was
coming. When I was close to his car, he laid on the horn so it wouldn't stop.

I yanked open the door. “Jack, cool it. You don't want my dad to come out.”

“I can handle your dad. He loves me.” Jack pulled me the rest of the way into the car, his hands quickly finding their way up the back of my shirt. “Your dad isn't the only one who loves me.”

“Cool it, Jack, you don't have to jump on me the minute I get into the car.”

He held on, and I tried to get away. His elbow slammed into the horn, and the blast made us
both jump.

“Damn,” he said, “what's your problem?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but a huge sob came out. Tears collected in my eyes.

He looked at me, confused. “What's wrong? I was just kidding around.”

“No, it's not that. It's Brett. He enlisted in the Army.” My eyes stung, and I fought to keep the tears in.

“What?”

“He signed the papers last night. He left them on the table for my dad and me to see.”

“Oh, man, that's rough. I wouldn't join now, not when they're sending everyone overseas.”

I swiped at my eyes. “I don't know why he's doing this. He's crazy.”

Jack wrapped his arms around me again, but this time it was in a hug. “I'm sure it'll be okay. He's just signed the papers, right? It's not like he's leaving right away, and he has to go to boot camp and stuff.”

I nodded, warming my hands over the heat blasting from the vents.

“Then I'm sure your dad will talk him out of it. He's not going to let Brett do something so dangerous.”

“He can't unsign those papers. He's committed to the Army.”

“Your dad will figure it out.”

I didn't answer. I let myself lean against Jack as he held me. I listened to the music on the radio change from one song to another and tried to forget what Brett had done.

Finally, I pulled away. “I need to get out of here. Away from the house. I don't want Dad to come out.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Let's go.” He backed the car out of the driveway.

I fished around my purse for some tissues and pulled down the mirror. I looked terrible. My eyeliner had left dark smudges above the streaks from my mascara. I tried to get it off. I tried to fix everything so at least I seemed okay on the outside.

Inside was a different story. I was trying to understand. Why would someone purposely put himself in danger? It didn't make sense.

Jack slowed and stopped at a red light. “I told Luke we'd stop over at his house. He invited a bunch of people to hang out.”

“Luke's house? You said we were going to get dinner and spend the night together.”

“We can, but I wanted to hang with everyone else too. Luke ordered some pizzas. What's the big deal?”

“There isn't.” I didn't want to start fighting with Jack too. “Let's go over.”

“You'll have a good time. It'll take your mind off things.”

I stared out the window, thinking about Brett. All I knew about the Army had to do with the Middle East and the war. I thought of all the images that seemed familiar from movies or the news: images of sandy deserts, rolling tanks, crumbled cities, and snaps of gunfire.

“We don't have to stay all night,” Jack said as he pulled in to Luke's driveway. “If you want to leave, let me know.”

“Thanks,” I said, climbing out of the car.

“It'll be okay.”

I nodded, although I didn't really know how Jack could promise that.

Luke's basement was full of guys from the team playing cards around a big table.

I grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him back
before the guys could see us. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” he asked, annoyed.

“I didn't expect to spend the night with half the team.”

“I told you we were going to Luke's.”

“Yeah, but you didn't say I'd be the only girl.”

“Relax, Kate. It's fine. You know everyone.” Before I was able to answer, Jack walked into the circle of guys sitting around a table playing cards. I followed, feeling horribly out of place. This was not where I wanted to be.

“Jack, Kate. Take a seat,” Luke said. He had a joint in one hand and a beer in the other.

I wondered where his parents were.

“We're about to start another game if you want to get in on it,” Luke added.

Jack grabbed an unopened beer from the table. “I'm in.”