Chapter Two

Six months ago

Joe curled up on his side, his body racked with coughs. Tears streamed down his cheeks; it seemed that every gasping breath he drew triggered a fresh wave.

A hand fell on his shoulder and waited patiently for the fit to die down. When Joe finally regained control, he blinked up at the last face he expected to see.

"Chet?" he rasped. "What are you doing here?"

Chet handed him a glass of water. "You've been pretty sick the last couple of days, and your mom looked like she could use some help, so here I am."

Joe's face clouded over, and he set the untouched glass on his bedside table. "I'm fine. I don't need anyone to look after me."

Chet shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm staying across the hall in the guest bedroom till you beat this thing, so holler if you need me."

And with that, he turned and left Joe gaping after him.


"Chet, I really appreciate your help, but it's not necessary."

The teen smiled at Laura Hardy. "It's okay, Mrs. Hardy. I don't mind. You just relax."

"How's it going with Joe?" Laura asked. "Is he getting any better?"

"Well, I think I'm making progress," Chet told her as he fixed lunch for everyone. "He's stopped yelling at me to go away, and is just ignoring me. Biff's coming over in about an hour, and we're going to see if we can draw Joe into a game of cards or something."

Laura sighed. "I really am sorry, Chet. I wish I knew why Joe's been behaving so poorly lately. It just seems the more I push, the more he fights back. Even Frank can't get through to him."

Chet paused and laid a reassuring hand on Laura's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mrs. Hardy. We'll bring the old Joe back."

Laura smiled sadly and excused herself. Chet was just passing the front door and heading upstairs when the doorbell rang.

Biff Hooper stood on the other side, holding a plate of brownies. "Hey, Chet."

"I thought you weren't coming until one," Chet replied, letting his friend inside.

"Yeah, well, Mom overheard and insisted I take some brownies over here right now," Biff told him as they made their way upstairs. "How's Joe?"

"See for yourself." Chet knocked on Joe's door, then opened it and walked inside. Joe, as he had expected, had his back to the door and made no move to acknowledge his friend.

"Lunchtime," Chet announced cheerfully. "And Mrs. Hooper made brownies for dessert. I hope you're hungry. I slaved over these sandwiches for at least twenty minutes."

Joe didn't move.

Biff frowned and leaned over to Chet. "What's wrong with him?"

Chet shook his head as he set the tray of food on the floor by Joe's bed, then sat next to it. Biff, at a loss, followed suit.

The two boys ate lunch and chattered aimlessly while Joe continued to lie there. As soon as they had finished, Biff pulled out a deck of cards and he and Chet began to play. After two hours, Joe finally turned to stare at them.

"Don't you two have anything better to do?" he snapped.

Biff was taken aback by the younger boy's abrupt tone. Chet, on the other hand, smiled broadly. "Who, me? Nah, I have the whole week open, and I'm gonna spend it right here."

"What if I don't want you here?" Joe challenged.

Chet shrugged. "You really are in no condition to do anything about it."

Joe's face reddened. "Get out! Get out of my room! I don't want anything to do with you! Just go!"

Chet leaned very close to Joe, pausing an inch away. "Make me."

Joe recoiled as if slapped.

Chet leaned back again and laid down a card. "Can't get rid of me, Joe. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Joe's blue eyes were wide with shock. They slipped over to Biff's equally stunned face, then back to Chet. Gathering up what indignance he could, he said, "You should. Don't you, of all people, know? Hanging out with me could be fatal."

All movement stopped. Hardly a breath was drawn for a full minute.

Finally, Chet looked up at Joe. "Are you telling me . . . that you feel responsible for what happened to Iola?"

"No." A pause. "I am responsible."

Biff found his voice. "Joe-."

"So why don't you two take a lesson and get lost before I kill you, too?" Joe yelled.

Chet sat on the bed next to Joe. "Now you listen to me," he ordered, tears swimming in his eyes. "What happened to my sister was . . . it was a terrible thing. It's going to take me a long, long time before I can feel anything close to all right, but I've talked about it, and because of some good friends, I'm coming to terms with it."

Tears slipped silently down Joe's cheeks. He turned his head in shame, not wanting to see Chet's eyes. He was surprised when Chet forced him to look back at him.

"I do not hold you responsible for Iola's death," Chet continued. "No one does. The only one to blame is the man who set the bomb, and he's dead now. So you need to quit wallowing in self-pity and let us help you. You were there for me, Joe. Let me be there for you."

Joe was shaking his head. "But . . . if Iola hadn't gone out with me . . . if she hadn't . . . hadn't been there . . . she'd still be alive."

"Joe, you can't wonder about that," Biff spoke up. "It was a terrible tragedy, but it happened. You can't go back and fix it. You can only go forward. Let us help you."

The younger boy broke down into heavy sobs. Chet pulled him into a tight hug, and the two boys mourned together over the loss of a young girl.