Hey you guys! I think that I may be able to count 8 chapters in this story, but it may be more. I don't know. Sorry for the long-time-no-see, but if you follow my other stories you've probably registered that I'm not in town much.
As you may have noticed, there's been a change in the story rating (one that should have happened long ago). Trigger warning- suicide.
The poem that is featured in this chapter was suggested to me by meriland25. Thank you for the excellent idea, I thought that it fit right in.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Part Six
"If I see girls in the boy's room or vice-versa I'm chopping off genitals," Alex warned.
"Daddy!" Jane protested.
"Sorry. I'm just a responsible adult, I have to say it." Alex said.
There was a whole patented system that held Jane's household together. Alex was daddy while Tony was dad. It spared everyone some confusion. There weren't any nicknames because those confused Adam. If you dropped something you had to pick it up because Matthew's wheelchair was pretty massive in some of the hallways. Certain foods on certain shelves of the fridge or pantry were for Jane and only Jane, who had a special diet to try and help with the seizures, and some of the gluten-free stuff was expensive. If you opened a door, close it because maybe it was closed for a reason (mainly Adam)… It was organised chaos, that house.
Will loved it. It felt alive.
"Have a good night," Alex said.
"Good night," they chanted.
They were all spread out on memory foam and couch pillows in the basement, in front of the TV. John, Dave and Will were going to have to sleep behind the couches once the movie ended. Marilyn and Jane got to stay put. Those were the mixed-gender sleepover rules that everyone's parents agreed on.
"So what are we watching first?" Jane said.
"That one looks good," John said pointing to a DVD.
"Not helpful, friend." Dave said.
John blushed. Most of the group still wasn't 100% used to Dave not seeing a thing, having known him before his accident. But they were getting better and 'okay on the bad days' according to him.
"He was talking about Life of Brian." Will said.
"Ah yes, let's watch that again," Marilyn said pulling her specifically-for-sleepovers-socks up.
"Agreed," Jane said. "Will you're outnumbered one way or the other."
"I'm cool with Monty Python," he said resting on his elbow. His knee was immobilized still, but in a smaller splint instead of a massive plaster contraption. It felt lighter- his leg could breathe now. His wrist was completely healed now, so at least he could dribble with both hands when he played ball with Adam. He had a couple of physiotherapy-related exercises to do with it, but nothing extreme.
They watched the movie, chatted nearly the whole time, and fed popcorn to each other, tossing it in mouths or dangling it down like in tapestries of Greek gods.
"You can be the Greek god of basketball, Dave'll handle card games, John gets wisdom and Jane can be sleepovers while I rule the universe," Marilyn said.
"Why do you get the universe?" Dave asked. "Maybe I wanted the universe."
"Maybe you did," Marilyn said. She poked John in the arm. "You- you're being quiet, Wisdom God."
"I'm okay," he said quickly.
"Loneliness, I say," Marilyn said. "Sorry, I'm in the international baccalaureate, you know how it is. Stuff to do all the time... I barely have time to get my hair done anymore. Let alone breathe."
"I can walk home alone fine," John said. And walk to school. And do homework. And spend weekends.
"Sorry," Marilyn said again.
"Shut up ya'all, this is my favourite part," Dave called out pointing wildly into the air, probably trying to get to the screen.
Will hobbled through the hallway with Jane and Dave, who was starting to walk around school with his cane more confidently and without clinging onto someone as much. Pretty cool stuff.
The semester was reaching its end as the weather got even warmer.
"Did you go see Mr Evanson yet?" Jane asked.
"Oh, no, I forgot," Will said tapping his forehead.
"Classic," Dave said. Will elbowed him.
"You guys go meet up with John. I'll meet up with you, alright?" He said before running off towards the English sector, hopefully before Mr Evanson left for lunch. Luckily for Will, he got to him on time.
"I was wondering if you'd forgotten," he said sitting back down.
"I did," he admitted.
"Jane saved you?"
Will nodded. Mr Evanson nodded and offered him a seat.
"What's this about?" Will asked frowning.
"Look," he said. "You're doing fantastic now. These last few weeks you seem… energized. You actually care about this class. You're interested and you know what- you're pretty good in English. I've noticed that you're spending more time with Jane in class, I have no idea if that's a factor but whatever. But some of the damage you did on the first part of the semester, you haven't saved yourself from."
Will's stomach sunk. "Even after the last test?"
Mr Evanson nodded. He looked genuinely sorry.
"I can't fail English," Will said. "I mean… I really try. It'd break my mom's heart… What kind of extra credit do you want me to do, sir? I'll start, like, right now."
The teacher looked surprised. "Wow. Willing to do it. That's interesting- you really are spending a lot of time with Jane, aren't you?"
Will nodded as Mr Evanson took a flyer from his office and handed it to Will. A minimalist black and white flyer advertising a poetry slam on May 24th.
"What?" Will asked.
"Extra credit for me shouldn't be about extra grammar. I mean, it clearly didn't work the first time, right? No, this is something different and challenging. And it happens to be right up your alley, Will."
"I don't understand."
"Have you ever seen a poetry slam?"
"No," Will said. That nearly sounded like a joke. "But it's where my parents meant."
Mr Evanson waved his hand. "Then you can ask your mother all about it. Go online, look up some videos. If you can enter the city's youth slam and perform- I'm ready to grade that poem and boost your average."
Will nodded. "Okay, great, that sounds, great. I'll do it."
Mr Evanson smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. A few other students are entering- a gutsy ninth grader who may or may not give me his form back, two twelfth graders looking to graduate, Jane…"
"Jane?" Will asked.
"Oh yes," Mr Evanson said. "She writes a lot."
"I hadn't realised it was poetry," Will said. "That's… cool…"
Mr Evanson nodded. "Alright. I'll see you there."
May 7th.
First draft of a poem.
It sucked, it wasn't long enough, and contained absolutely no imagery. Screw it.
Will was standing right behind Adam, his hands wrapped around the shorter boy's wrists. He was helping him shoot perfect baskets again. Every time the ball would drop through the hoop, Adam would yank his wrists free, laugh and clap. Will and Jane would join him, cheering him on.
Alex called out that he was making cookies and did anyone want to help. Adam did, and so that's why Will didn't play ball with Adam until his bedtime. That was literally the only reason.
"His muscles are getting stronger," Jane said while they lounged on the grass. "He really likes playing basketball, you've given him the bug."
"Ah," Will said. "Well, that's great."
Jane nodded. "You've given it to me too."
"What?" Will said.
"I've always been scared of doing sports because... you know... they get worst when I do physical activity," Jane said wiggling her MedicAlert bracelet self-consciously. "It's rare, but of course it happens to me. I can't even run to class without risking it."
"Fair enough," Will said.
"But I've been looking around and... I think that baseball is something I could do. There's a surprising amount of major league players with epilepsy, and depending on your position..." Jane said.
"I think that's great," Will said. "You'll love baseball."
"You played?"
"I played everything when I was a kid. My mom was desperate to get me to spend some energy." Will said. "Do you catch decently?"
Jane shrugged. "This is just an idea, Will. I don't know."
"We should go find a ball," Will said. "Help me up?"
She did and they solicited around the house.
Tony and Alex had a couple of gloves lying around -they'd met in a recreational ball team so Alex was really excited to give them the gloves- and there was even a baseball that they uncovered in the shed after they' been on the verge of giving up and using a tennis ball. They played catch in front of the house, and Will was surprised by how strong Jane's arm was.
"It's after all the whacking I do," she explained. "Family of four and I hang out with the likes of David and you."
Will laughed and threw the ball back.
May 11
Why was he writing love poems?
"I fell and hurt my wrist yesterday," Jane said.
She'd been moody all day and she'd left at third period. Will was 99% sure that she hadn't tripped, but he didn't mention it. He just carried her books for her.
May 17
Seriously why?
Jane changed the station.
"Hey, I was listening to that," he complained.
The house had been pretty chaotic- Lily had some kind of study group over, Matthew and his girlfriend were wrecking havoc in the living room and Tony's parents were staying with them (always interesting, according to Jane, since his mother acted like her son had a roommate and not a fiancé. Jane had complained that they couldn't do their math homework and so Lily had just stuck them in her truck, with the AC and the music on. Worst setups had existed.
"It sucked," Jane said.
"Don't you dare put Taylor Swift on."
"What's the matter with Taylor Swift?" Jane asked teasing him. She'd switched to an alternative rock station, so they were fine.
"What's x worth at question 21?" Will asked.
"I've got a 12."
Will had 15,215. He decided to steal her answer. You just had to round it up, right? Round it down... whatever.
"Are you stealing my answer?" Jane said.
"Nope," Will said blowing the eraser shavings off of his homework. Lily would never let them in her truck again.
"You are," she said.
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
Will panicked and opened the window that led to the pick-up's bed. His leg didn't appreciate his dragging, but he made his escape with Jane's homework notebook in hand.
"Hey!" She called scrambling after him. She grabbed the notebook from him, but he wouldn't let it go. He flipped her onto her back and pinned her down with his good knee.
"Will!" She said. "Give me my textbook!"
"Over my dead body," he said.
"No, now," she said breathlessly.
"You breathless? Are you dreading something? Something like... this?"
He started tickling her and after her first laugh... well, there went their afternoon of studying.
May 18
Who was he kidding anymore? Of course he was writing love poems and of course they all sucked because they were about Jane and there was no way to compare to her kind of... well, her kind of everything. His poems couldn't compare to her.
Mom knocked on the door and let herself in, as mothers do. Why they knocked anyways, Will didn't know.
"You should get some shut-eye," she said walking in. She was clutching a shawl around her shoulders and her hair fell in curly strands because of the rain they'd gotten in the afternoon.
"Yeah," Will said. He couldn't sleep. He was hearing the echoes of powerful lines from other freelance poems he'd been watching online in desperate search for information. He was looking at the ceiling and then finding every possible rhyme for ing. He had to figure something out if he was going to pass after all, and his brain couldn't just forget it for a second and let him sleep.
She sat down next to him and ran her hand through his hair. Her eyes quickly registered all the paper all around him. In the form of notebooks, crinkled balls, photocopies of poems he liked from school or library books, blank sheets just torn out for no reason...
She leaned forwards and kissed his forehead. "It'll come to you eventually, Will. You've got a poet's soul. When it's time to write, you'll get it."
"I only have six days left," Will said. "I'm out of it."
"It's not time yet," she said running her hand through his hair. "That's all. Your father was the same way. You should have heard the crap he came up with on the spot, but when something mattered... when the time was right... it was beautiful. I met him at a slam, you know."
"I know," Will said.
"I'm proud of you for having signed up," she said. "I feel like you've grown up so much Will... my God, it's scary. But in a good way."
She kissed him on the forehead again as his stomach crumbled. "Goodnight darling."
"Night mom."
She shut his light and the door behind her, but Will couldn't sleep with the guilt. He hadn't told her that he'd fail English if he didn't pull this off.
"Your room really is a mess," Jane said waving her hand at all the crumpled up pieces of paper on the ground.
"Not usually," Will said. These were all drafts for his entry poem. He hadn't thrown a single one out.
He and Jane were working in his room, struggling through the rocky world of mathematics today. Jane was licking her lips and chewing on her cheeks. She'd had a seizure at school and the coppery taste that came before was persistent. Thank you medication. At least she wasn't moody.
"I have to go to the bathroom," he said.
"Have fun," Jane said.
When he got back the mess of papers was mostly cleaned up, and Jane was looking at him with lost eyes as she breathed deeply.
"Nothing's wrong," she whispered when he asked.
Mom left a poem under his pillow, trying to be helpful.
Dear Will,
Sorry I can't help you with your poem more. My twelfth graders are getting closer and closer to exams, you know how it is.
I'm hoping this can be inspiring. "A alma de um poeta" is the poem's original name; it was written in Portuguese. You should look up the writer, Florbela Espance, if you have a minute. She was an interesting lady. It was your father's favourite poem. He said that it was the only way that anyone had ever put him in words. He said that it was the reason he walked slowly and looked at things for so long, and the reason he fell in love with me.
Mom
Oh, the souls of poets
No-one can understand;
They are souls of violets
Which are poets themselves.
They roam lost in life,
As stars lost in the air;
They feel the wind wailing
They hear the roses weeping!
Only those who hold in their chest
Secret and bitter pains
Can on moonlit nights
Understand the poets
And I carrying sorrows
Such as no-one did before
I have a soul which can feel
The poets' very own!
The phone was ringing.
Will didn't know what time it was, but he was sleeping- so the chances were that it was an indecent time to call.
Mom seemed to think so too when she opened up his bedroom door and handed Will the phone. She grumbled something like 'at least when Bella texted I didn't hear it' on her way out.
"Hello?" Will asked.
"It's Marilyn," the caller said. Her voice didn't sound right.
"What's going on?" Will asked throwing the blankets off of him.
"John… John's in the hospital again." Marilyn choked.
"John? What's wrong with John- is he okay?"
"The ambulance pulled up next door and I was on my roof watching and they took him out and he was unconscious Will, knocked out completely- he was on the stretcher and the paramedics were panicking." Marilyn said. "I think he tried again, Will. I think he did- I can't…"
Will couldn't either.
"Mari- Mari, calm down. In and out Mari, that's how you breathe… that's it… Listen, I can just go and call Jane and…"
"Don't call, all of her siblings have chicken pox. Facebook her. She's working on a project I think."
Will thought back to the giant load of history homework they'd gotten and agreed with her. "Are you home alone?"
"Yeah."
Right; her parents had won a cruise at her dad's work and she was home alone for the next two weeks.
"I'm coming over then."
"Why?"
"Because you need it."
Will didn't hang up while he went over to the laptop and logged onto Facebook, but they didn't talk. Will couldn't figure out what to say, and Marilyn was pretty focused on trying not to sob too loudly.
Will could only mentally slap himself over and over to keep his mind from running off in a panic and leaving the rest of him in the dust. Had John said anything? Acted weird? All that walking home by himself... Will got angry. Had someone been picking on him? Will should have seen it coming based on how much John missed Marilyn whenever the subject of her intense studies came out. Will should have walked John home himself, his knee was nearly fully healed... Guilt rushed through him and blended with concern to make a huge cocktail of emotions.
Luckily Jane was online and after a very quick chat she told him to pack a bag and wait by his front door, and tell Marilyn to hold on. She'd call David.
Will threw handfuls of stuff into his schoolbag. He bounced out of his room and Mom was waiting by the door. She sized him up, him in his pajama pants and a jacket with his backpack over a shoulder, and raised an eyebrow.
"Sweetheart?"
"John's in the hospital," he said. "Marilyn's panicking. Jane told me to wait outside."
Mom looked pale. "Oh dear..."
"Yeah," he said. He didn't even ask for her permission to leave on a school night and she didn't even mention it. Will wondered if she'd have let him run off at midnight with any of his other friends. Probably not, but she kissed him on the forehead and opened the door for him once Tony's Volvo rolled into the driveway. Lily was driving, in her pajamas and scratching at her chicken pox. David was in shotgun with his cane between his legs, and Jane was in the backseat- the only one out of all of them fully dressed.
"We're hiding out at Marilyn's," Jane informed them. "She'd be the first to get news, and she's the one tearing herself apart."
"I'm okay with that," David said.
Lily put the pedal to the metal and they were off.
The following thirty hours were the worst of Will's life.
It was a Friday, but Alex called to say that they were all off the hook for school. He was mad at Jane for having run off without telling him anything, they should have an adult with them and yada yada, but he didn't discipline her too much. He said to take care of each other, at least they were all in a group, and keep them posted.
Jane made a pile of toast. Nobody was hungry. Will heated a can of Spaghetti-O's on the stove for lunch (he literally just put a can of Spaghetti-O's on the stove and hoped for the best). The can was only half-emptied and the four of them had eaten their fill.
The worst part was seeing Marilyn. She just held her head in her hands and curled up in her fuzzy purple blanket for most of the day. She blamed herself; said that if she'd walked home with John like she'd promised to after his last suicide attempt, he never would have regressed like that. She wondered out loud if he'd been taking his meds anymore or if he'd tried to stop.
They tried doing homework, watching TV, listening to the radio... nothing. The idea was that they would take turns sitting up front and waiting for someone to pull up in John's driveway, but they ended up spending most of the day there all together.
John, why did you do it man? Will couldn't help but think. Look at us. We're panicking. We're freaking out. We miss you already and we don't even know if... yeah. You should have known that we'd do it, we're your friends. You should have known that someone would care.
Marilyn's parents called from the Bahamas or something. She only cried after they hung up, and barely stopped for the afternoon. She and Jane locked themselves upstairs, leaving Dave and Will on the patio steps. They barely talked.
"It's even worst than last time," David said.
"Yeah?" Will asked.
"Yeah. This time it's like... we knew. We just didn't..."
"You didn't know."
"We knew that he could. That he might try it again."
You know that about everyone, Will wanted to say. But no, he couldn't help but agree with David. John's problems had flown ten feet over them. He felt like a jerk. Again.
"John visited me in the hospital the day after I had my retina rupture last summer. He told the nurse that he was my cousin." Dave said.
"John said that?" Will grinned.
"Oh yeah. I nearly had a heart attack, thank God I was already in a hospital. So now... I feel so useless." Dave said.
"There's nothing we can do. We don't even know in which hospital he is." Will asked. "The best we can do... I don't know. Keep Marilyn from panicking is pretty good. Look out for each other."
"I guess," Dave said.
Will only left his spot when the phone rang. It was Alex, asking for news. They didn't have any. Tony had called John's mom, but she hadn't picked up.
While the phone was out they mustered the guts to call John's mom and leave a message, saying that they were at Marilyn's and would like to know how John was going and wished them their best (it was the kind of sap that Will and Dave wouldn't have pulled out of their asses if they weren't leaving a message on a day this brutal).
David's mom called. He passed the phone to him, and he had a screaming match about not wanting to go to his appointment now, scaring two elementary school kids who were walking by.
Will's mom dropped by after school. She checked on all of them, and when Will asked that they be left alone she kissed him on the forehead and went back in the car. She told him that the parents were also trying to reach John's parents.
When the kids from their school walked by, Will clenched his teeth. Duncan and Bruno were in the group, as well as a bunch of other guys that Will could qualify as four-star jerks. His hands balled into fists and he started getting mad...
David grabbed his shoulder. "You really want a blind guy to have to go back you up?"
Will sat back down.
For supper they ate cold toast and leftover Spaghetti-O's on the porch. Marilyn and Jane were wrapped in the purple blanket now.
When night fell, they built a blanket fort in the living room and refused to move out of it. It had a window view. Jane insisted that they try to play Myth-O-Magic to take their minds off of things. It didn't, but Marilyn didn't cry again. That was good.
Tony popped by. He said that they shouldn't be spending the night alone. Jane told him that they were fine and that he should go back home because everyone had chicken pox. The consensus was that every hour someone would come check on them, or text Will.
The night was fruitless as far as sleep went until about 11:00 PM. Marilyn was curled up under Will's right arm, Jane under the left. Fatigue hit eventually though- and hit hard. Marilyn fell asleep against David who fell asleep after contemplating whether or not a joke was to be made, and Jane didn't last much longer.
Will couldn't take it and he crept out of the blanket fort and out the door. He sat on the porch with a flashlight and made shadow puppets against the driveway. He couldn't take his mind off of John.
John who wanted to travel the world.
John who tutoured them in science- especially astronomy, his favourite branch.
John who was the champion of Myth-O-Magic.
John who had all the nerdy apps.
John the walking encyclopedia.
John the most forgiving guy Will knew, except towards himself.
John, John, John, John, John.
He sighed and flicked the flashlight off. He looked towards the sky.
Will's brain suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.
Jane sat down next to him.
"Hey," she said.
"Hi," Will said putting his notebook down. "You okay?"
Jane nodded. "It's not warm out here."
"Not really, no," Will said. Jane wrapped her blanket around his shoulders.
Will dreaded having to talk to her like he'd talked to Marilyn. He wasn't like his father according to "A alma de um poeta". He didn't notice little things, or pull the right thing to say out of his ass and made a spectacularly eloquent delivery. He didn't have a poet's soul.
But no. All that Jane needed was to share her blanket with someone.
Maybe that was what being a poet was all about. Being able to do and say the right thing, regardless of rhyming pattern or theme or whatnot. Maybe Will was doing something right. Or so it felt like it when Jane fell asleep against him, her hands wrapped in his shirt.
He answered the 2:00 AM "are you guys okay?" text from Alex, and fell asleep on the porch. They slept until 10:00 PM, when Rosaline McDay came and said that she had news about her brother.
As they headed back inside to find out where David and Marilyn were at; Rosaline promised to Will, in his ear, that she wouldn't tell Jane's dads.
It was awkward in the hospital. The air was palpable.
"I'm sorry guys." he said, sitting in his hospital bed- shoulders slumped. That was what broke the silence.
"Don't be sorry," Marilyn said throwing her arms around John. He looked surprised, but hugged her back. His glasses were on his nose, and he looked pale and horrible.
Rosaline had explained that he'd overdosed again, while she and John's dad drove them to the hospital. He'd taken a bunch of aspirins to get rid of a headache while studying, and most of his depression medicine was gone when they'd last checked. He hadn't been taking it for weeks, and it was all gone at once. This had come even closer than last time.
John rested his head on Marilyn's shoulder.
"We're just glad that you're okay," Jane said.
"Like, really glad," Dave said.
"Don't sweat it, okay? We're all cool." Will said.
"We brought some of your stuff over too, in case it'd make you feel better." Dave said. "And some stuff that isn't yours but that we thought would be cool- namely, Oreos."
"And some Harry Potter DVD's. Also a PJ shirt that you left at my house." Jane said. "We did our best but only took about ten seconds of packing. We couldn't wait to see you."
"Thanks guys," John said. He still looked sheepish, but Will wasn't giving up. And neither were the rest. They were going to make John understand that nobody blamed him and that nobody was mad. They were going to go back to the way things were before, except even better. They were going to dissolve the tension in the air and make it feel like the atmosphere at a sleepover, at the movies, at the bookstore... they were going to make things like they were before.
The game of Myth'O'Magic in which he creamed them all certainly did the trick. Also it helped Will's heartbeat return to normal after the scariest weekend of his life.