Trigger (20 page)

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to relax. Instead I thought about Mom.

“Frog farts,” I muttered.

Santa Claus sent me and my memory book and my six-six-six to the office for the rest of class.

I made it through Civics without getting banished, but when I went into the Earth Science room for third period, Ms. Chin said, “Hold on. Where’s Ms. Wenchel?”

Fired. Fired. Santa Claus! “The W—I mean, my dad called.”

Called her off. Fired her. Could Mom fire me? I was sweating. This room was stinky, too, but it wasn’t little like Resource and it didn’t have round tables. Six-six-six. Don’t say devil. We had desks in Earth Science. Ms. Chin didn’t look like Santa Claus, though. She was short and skinny with long black hair. Don’t say Santa Claus. Don’t say devil. Don’t say frog farts. Did I have my homework done?

Ms. Chin folded her arms and stared at me as all the other kids sat down. I started to sit down. I had my homework. I knew I had it.

“Don’t take out your book yet.” Ms. Chin shook her head and frowned. “I’m not comfortable with this. With you being here without your aide. What happened to your eye, anyway? Did you get in a fight?”

“Homework,” I muttered, then counted to ten in my head three times really fast and said, “No. I don’t remember. The eye, I mean. I probably fell. I fall a lot. Two, three, four.” If I kept counting, I wouldn’t say devil or sixes or get sent to the office. My cheek hurt. If I got sent to the office again, they’d probably call Dad and bring back the Wench.

Ms. Chin beckoned me toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go talk to the principal, or guidance. Somebody.”

Devil. Homework. I didn’t want to follow her. Why should I have to leave? I didn’t need a babysitter. Wench was history. My cheek hurt. I didn’t want Ms. Chin to call Dad. If Mom was awake and only a little bit glued, I didn’t want her to get broken.

We went to the office. The principal talked to Ms. Chin for a few minutes. I didn’t hear much because of where I was sitting, except Ms. Chin got a little loud. When she came out, she definitely didn’t look like Santa Claus. Santa Claus would never frown like that.

“Come on,” she said. Her voice sounded high and tight, all nervous, like she didn’t have much air. “But if you cause any trouble—and I mean
any
trouble—you’re coming straight back here.” A little ways down the hall, she added, “And no falling down in my class. I don’t want the paperwork if you black your other eye. Understood?”

She clenched her hands together.

I nodded and kept my head down so she couldn’t see the tape. It was clear, but she’d probably see it if I looked up. I’d found a roll of packing tape on the table next to my chair in the office. Tape fixed things. Tape would definitely keep lips closed, better than socks, even, and it wouldn’t make my tongue fuzzy. If I kept my head down, she’d never see the tape, and I’d never say devil, and I wouldn’t go back to the office, and they wouldn’t call Dad and upset Mom.

Ms. Chin didn’t call on me in class. I didn’t think she would, the way she kept giving me that nervous stare and holding her own hands. Maybe I was ticking, like some kind of bomb. “Tick,” I tried to say. Then, “bomb.” But she didn’t hear me, because the tape kept my mouth closed and I sounded like I was grunting.

I scratched my lips. Maybe I used too much tape. But I had to, or it would just pop open every time something wanted to come out of my mouth, which usually was a lot. But Earth Science was all about convection currents and
inner and outer mantles and athenospheres and stuff. I couldn’t even say athenosphere right in my head, so I didn’t much want to say it out loud. My eyes drooped. I had to go to the bathroom. But first I had to make it through lithospheres and start tectonics, and by then I really, really had to go. Ms. Chin started talking about volcanoes and pressures and eruptions, and that didn’t help anything.

When the bell rang, I got up so fast, I knocked my book off my desk. The next class was already coming in. Devil, devil, devil. Volcano. Eruption. I tried to bend over and grab my book, but almost fell. No falling. No paperwork for Ms. Chin.

So I had to get all the way down on one knee to get the book.

Somebody bumped me. I fell hard against the desk, but I didn’t hit my eye. No paperwork. Devil. I had to go to the bathroom. I got part of the way back up and somebody else bumped me. I heard snickering, then, “Sit, Hatch. Stay, Hatch. Need a water bowl? Be a good dog, now.”

Zero. Great.

Kerry said, “What’s wrong with his mouth? Hey, check out his eye. Somebody busted him!”

More snickering.

I tried to get my balance and use my good leg to push myself up, but one of them kneed me in the back and I fell flat all over again. This time my Earth Science book jammed into my stomach and took some of my breath. I wished I didn’t have tape on my mouth. My nose felt too small to get all my air back. People were standing everywhere and talking and nobody really seemed to be paying attention except Zero and Kerry, who were both behind me.

“Arf, arf,” Kerry said. “Can you bark for us, Hatch? Come on. Arf, arf.”

Ignoring him, I tucked my book under my bad arm and tried to get up on my knees again. The tape bugged me. I tried to pull it off, but it just tore around the edges. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to go to the bathroom.

A foot pushed against my back. “I said bark. I’m not letting you up till you bark, loser.”

Fine. Whatever. I’d bark, if I could get the tape off my mouth. If I didn’t bark, he’d push me down again, and I had to go to the bathroom. I needed to breathe. Devil. Volcano. The tape wouldn’t come off.

“What are you doing?” Zero’s voice sounded closer, like he was bending down. The foot stayed planted on my back, pushing just a little. “What’s that on your mouth?”

“Wha—hey. Cut that out.” Todd’s feet and legs came striding through the bunch of girl-legs in front of me. He sounded pissed. Volcanoes. He’d probably black my other eye. Paperwork for Ms. Chin. Call to Dad. Unglued Mom. I so had to go to the bathroom.

“I mean it!” Todd’s snarl made me flinch.

Then, “You—” from Kerry.

Zero cut him off with a loud “Whatever, man.”

The foot left my back.

Somebody grabbed my good arm and lifted me to my feet.

I found myself eye to chin with Todd. He tilted his head.

“Your eye—did they hit you?”

I shook my head.

He let out a breath and relaxed a little. Zero said something rude I couldn’t think about or I’d start repeating it, and
Todd gave him a Rush glare that shut him right up. Kerry didn’t try to say anything.

Todd kept staring at me. “What
is
that? Did you put tape over your lips?”

I nodded and thought about the bathroom.

He rolled his eyes. For a second, he looked just like Leza, and just like the Todd I knew before I broke everything. Then he glanced around the room and frowned and let my arm go.

“Can you get it off?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head.

“Here.” He reached up and dug his nails under the tape on both sides. “This is gonna hurt. You ready?”

I shook my head.

“Too bad.” His frown got deeper. “Hold your breath.”

I closed my eyes instead.

Todd ripped the tape clean away. Some of my lips went with it. Todd threw the tape down like it had rabies. I clapped my good hand over my mouth and said words head-injured people weren’t supposed to say.

Ms. Chin picked that minute to bring her clenched hands back into the room.

“Jersey Hatch!” she shouted. “You will not use that kind of language in my classroom. Come here this instant!”

I kept my hand over my mouth and looked at Todd.

He shrugged like, hey, man, you’re on your own with this one. Then he turned around and walked off, all cool and madlike all over again.

Wondering if I had any lips left, I managed to stuff Earth Science in my backpack next to my memory book and
make the walk to Ms. Chin. Almost everybody from the next class was sitting down now. If I didn’t go to the bathroom soon, I’d die. I’d just die.

When I got to the front of the class, Ms. Chin grabbed my arm and I knew she meant to march me to the office. The bell rang. Everything went quiet. She narrowed her eyes and said, “God, did you kiss sandpaper or something? No. Don’t answer that. Just … just …” She let me go. “Go to the nurse’s station, okay? You’re bleeding.”

I went to the bathroom instead.

Volcanoes and tectonics and convection currents and all that stuff.

What a relief.

And I managed to go without dropping anything or peeing on myself, and I zipped my fly. When I washed my hands and looked in the mirror, I knew I did need to see the nurse. My top lip was split down the center, and it kept bleeding even when I held toilet paper against it for a minute. If I didn’t let the nurse fix it, it’d get on my shirt, and Mom would see it, and she might unglue over that.

It was hard to get the toilet paper to stick to my lip, but it finally did, and I picked up my backpack and started out of the bathroom. I didn’t have a pass to be in the hall during class, but I figured the toilet-paper-bloody-tape lip would be enough.

I opened the door and walked straight out, almost knocking into a girl coming out of the girls’ bathroom.

For once, I managed to catch somebody and do the steadying.

“Jersey,” the girl said, startled. “Um, thanks.”

I let Todd’s girlfriend go in a hurry. My heart beat really
fast all of a sudden, and I opened my mouth to say something intelligent. That’s when I remembered the toilet paper and blood and stuff.

But my fly was zipped.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I pulled off the toilet paper and my lip bled.

Her dark eyes got bigger. She picked at the collar of her white shirt. “What happened?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. Tape. My mom.”

“Did Todd do that?” She picked her shirt harder. “Because if he did, I’ll—”

“No! He pulled my lips off. I mean, no. Lips. He helped me.”

She eased up on her collar, then lowered her hand and rubbed the leg of her jeans. It wasn’t so stinky in the hall. I could smell her perfume, and it wasn’t so hot, and I didn’t need to pee. She had a red hall pass in one of her hands. Her nail polish was red, too. She was really pretty. Not as pretty as Leza, but definitely nice to look at. I knew she wasn’t Elana now. She wasn’t. She wasn’t Elana.

“Cheerleaders,” I muttered. “Peanuts. Lips. Sorry. What’s your name?”

The girl laughed. “Maylynn.”

“Maylynn. Doesn’t sound like Elana.”

I started to cover my mouth, but she caught my hand. “Don’t. It’s okay. You need to go see the nurse.”

“Going.” I nodded. Then the rest erupted like one of Ms. Chin’s volcanoes. “Did I do something awful? To Todd, I mean. Did he tell you? There was this girl, and she told me I’m so self-centered. You’re so self-centered I bet you think I’m mad at you. She said that, and Todd and I had a fight,
only I don’t remember. You’re so self-centered I bet you think I’m mad at you.”

Maylynn-not-Elana just looked at me. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Somebody said that. I was selfish. Self-centered,” I stammered idiotically. “Somebody should have said that, right?”

She smiled and shrugged.

“It’s okay,” I said, not wanting to be more stupid. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a volcano.” My lip bled into my mouth. I wiped it with the back of my hand.

“You should go on to the nurse.”

“Maylynn!” Ms. Chin’s voice sliced through the quiet hall. “Did you lose something in that bathroom? Get in here. The quiz is starting.”

To me, Ms. Chin said, “Do I need to take you to the nurse’s office?”

I didn’t need pragmatics to know she wasn’t being nice.

“Maybe you and Todd can talk soon.” Maylynn waved at me. “Good luck.” Then she turned around and jogged over to Ms. Chin.

“Volcanoes,” I called after her. “Eruptions.”

Ms. Chin glared at me and made a shoo-motion with her hand.

I shooed.

chapter 17

I have this dream where both legs work and both arms work and I don’t have any scars on the outside. My mother isn’t broken and my dad isn’t broken. Todd’s my friend, Elana’s my girlfriend except she looks like Maylynn, Mama Rush still lives next door, and Leza’s a scrawny kid with big teeth and lots of braids. They’re smiling and laughing in my backyard, until they see the gun. I’m standing at my window holding it. They all turn to clay. I lift the gun to my mouth, and everyone cracks down the middle. Mom’s arms fall off. Dad’s legs break at the knees. It tastes oily and dusty all at once as I close my lips on cold gunmetal
—
but I can’t. Not in the mouth. I’m shaking, but I lift the barrel to the side of my head. Todd turns away and snaps into five pieces. Mama Rush puts her head on the table and it shatters. The tip digs into my skin. Leza’s braids fracture. I’m thinking selfish thoughts about nothing at all. Elana-Maylynn falls apart, hands
and arms and eyes and face. By the time I pull the trigger, there’s nothing left of any of them. Nothing but dust
.

You’re losing it
. J.B.’s voice reminded me of Zero or Kerry. Couldn’t tell which.
Mom’s never going to talk to you again if you lose it
.

I yawned. “Shut up. I want to sleep. Not losing it. And Mom’s talking to me.”

What? A “hello, honey” over breakfast and a kiss goodnight?
J.B. couldn’t touch me, but I imagined him poking my head while I tried to pull the green bedspread over my eyes.
She hasn’t even been home most of the week. She’s leaving. She’s gone. She can’t do this anymore
.

“She’s still busy with the bank audit. Losing it. It’s almost over.” I rolled over and jerked my pillow on top of my head.

That’s bull
. J.B. sounded just as loud.

I threw the pillow onto the floor. “You’re bull. Losing it.”

You and Dad should have gone to the police station by now. That gun needs to get melted. And stop saying “losing it.”