I didn't know for certain what time it was when I woke up in pain, the worst pain I'd felt
since the accident. I got out of bed, and switched on my lamp. I thought I could tough it out, but
when it practically doubled me over in pain, I knew I couldn't. Maybe it wasn't a bruised kidney at
all. Maybe there was something worse wrong.
I tried to calm down. Maybe I should wake Crane up. Then I remembered seeing Crane
set my bottle of medicine on the end table downstairs last night before I went to bed.
I got my flashlight and headed down the stairs, intent on taking one of the pills and
some milk. At the bottom of the stairs I saw the light of the TV illuminating the living
room. Brian was stretched out on the couch, where he must have been watching TV,
and he was snoring softly.
As quietly as I could, I walked thru the living room, looking on the end table for my medicine.
When I didn't see it there, I looked at the other tables, and then the coffee table near the couch
by Brian. Papers, glasses, a bowl of leftover popcorn, but no medicine bottle anywhere.
A spasm of pain shot thru me, and I touched Brian's shoulder. No response, so I did it again,
a little harder.
"Bri," I said, in an anguished whisper. "Wake up."
Brian stirred a little. "Huh? What's the matter?"
"I need my medicine, Bri! I can't find it!"
More awake now, Brian sat up, and switched on the floor lamp beside the couch.
He took me in at a glance and said, "What's wrong?"
"I need my medicine! Just tell me where it is, and then you can go back to sleep!"
Brian stood up. "You hurtin' bad?" he asked.
I nodded in misery.
"I put it up in the kitchen cabinet." He pushed me gently down onto the couch. "Sit down here. I'll
get it."
Brian was back quickly, carrying a glass of milk and one of the now familiar white pills. He waited
while I took it, and then he went back to the kitchen, this time returning with another glass of milk
and a box of crackers. He sat down beside me on the couch, and took a drink from his glass.
"Here." he said, holding out the box of crackers to me.
"I don't want any."
"You say no. I say yes. Eat a few of them."
I took several crackers out of the box and nibbled on them.
"I'm sorry I had to wake you up," I said.
"It's fine."
"I tried to cowgirl up. I just couldn't do it."
"Doc says he's seen a bruised kidney lay a grown man out. It hurts, that's what the medicine's
for. No shame in that." He reached forward and snapped off the television set.
"Ready to head back up to bed?"
"Could I sit down here for awhile?"
"Sure, okay." He reached over and grabbed a blanket at the end of the couch.
"Better?" he asked me, when he had tucked it around me.
"Yeah. Alot better." It seemed like the medicine was helping already. At least my back
didn't hurt so badly.
We were quiet for a few minutes, but it was a good silence, not uncomfortable.
Finally, I found the words I wanted to say to him.
"I'm sorry about everything, Bri. I know I messed up. And I feel real bad, for worrying you
all like I did."
Brian was quiet for a minute, and then he reached over and took my hand, squeezing it.
"I just don't like it when you lie to me, Harlie."
"I'm sorry," I said again, softly.
He kept hold of my hand, and I leaned my head against his arm.
"Remember when you broke your ribs?" I asked him.
"I remember. Kind of hard to forget that. All trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey."
I couldn't help the giggle that slipped out.
"Nobody could keep you still."
"Probably why they took so darn long to heal up."
"Cause you're so stubborn, huh?"
"I've been accused of it a time or two."
"Good thing I don't take after you in that, huh?" I said, joking with him.
"Oh yeah," he said, dryly. "A real good thing."
We were quiet again, then. I was starting to relax, and get drowsy.
"Do you understand why I did what I did?" Brian asked me.
I thought of those horrible moments by the side of the road.
"I understand," I told him. I rubbed my chin on his shoulder. "I'm not mad at you for
what you did, Bri."
"Okay."
"Are we okay?" I asked him. "I mean, are things between us straight again?"
"We're straight."
I looked up at him. "Maybe I'll be the one to go to veterinary school for you," I told him.
Brian smiled. "I'd be thrilled."
7^ 7^7^7^7^7^7
When I woke up the next morning I was back in my bed, and didn't even remember
getting there. I got out of bed slowly, pulled my hair back in a band, and went downstairs.
Crane was sitting in the living room, papers on his lap and all around him, writing in
a notebook.
"Good morning," he said.
"Morning." I looked at the clock. "Wow. Ten o'clock."
"Starting to keep princess hours, Har."
"Well, if the glass slipper fits, wear it," I quipped.
Crane moved the papers off his lap and into a pile on the table.
"Breakfast," he said, propelling me towards the kitchen.
"So breakfast menu or lunch menu?" he asked me. "Ten o'clock, could go either way."
"It doesn't matter," I told him, and he started getting food out of the refrigerator.
"So you're my babysitter today, huh?" I asked him.
"Yep. I drew the short straw."
"Ha ha. Not funny," I told him.
Crane set a glass of milk in front of me, and then handed me my medicine.
"Brian says you had a rough night last night."
"Yeah. Kind of."
"I'm thinking that we better stay on a schedule with your pain medicine, even if we
have to wake you up to take it. That way you won't have any more nights like last night."
"Yes, Dr. McFadden."
"Hannah agrees with me, by the way."
I felt my mood slip. "Hannah knows about everything? And Adam, too?"
Crane gave me a look. "They had to find out sometime, goofy."
I sighed. "I guess."
Crane set a plate in front of me, laden with a ham sandwich, complete with lettuce and tomato,
and a generous serving of cottage cheese. I looked up at him.
"I can't eat all this, Crane!"
"Au contraire. You can." He put the ham and bread back into the refrigerator.
"I'm going to go get laundry from upstairs. Don't even think about throwing any of that
out to Gus."
"I wasn't thinking that."
When Crane came back downstairs with an armful of dirty jeans, he went to put them
in the washer. By the time he was done, I'd managed half the sandwich and most of
the cottage cheese.
I looked at him pleadiñgly. "I can't eat any more."
"Okay," he relented. "Finish your milk."
When I'd put my dishes in the sink, I smiled at Crane. "So what's on the agenda? A rousing
game of chess?"
"What's on is a rousing game of homework."
"Okay, okay. I was joking, Crane."
"Well, I'm not. Get busy."
It took me over an hour to do my homework, and to my frustration I was
tired already.
I went to lay on the couch, looking upside down as Crane came back inside.
"How's the calf?" I asked him.
"About the same."
"Homework done?" he asked, coming to stand beside the couch.
"Yeah."
Crane tore a sheet of paper out of one of the notebooks on the table and handed
it to me. It had a list of Presidents names on it. The reports. I sighed.
"Right now?" I asked, trying not to sound like I was whining.
"I don't care when you do it, as long as it's done before you go to bed."
I looked over the list. "Do I have to go in order?"
"No. However you want."
"That's sweet of you," I said. I'd meant to sound teasing, but Crane raised
his eyebrow, not looking amused. Crane is tall, and he looked even taller
from my lying flat position.
"I mean, 'yes, sir'," I said meekly.
Crane sighed. "Look, Harlie. I'm probably going to be the one around here the
most with you, at least until Hannah gets home. It would be unfortunate if we
started having problems with punishment this early on. Unfortunate in the fact
that those reports can go from two to three thousand words."
I looked at Crane in horror. "I'm sorry, Crane! I'll shut up, I promise!"
"Well, if you're not going to take it seriously-"
"I'll take it seriously!"
"Okay. No more comments or complaints."
"Not a word," I promised.
Crane sat down with his papers again, and I looked over the list.
I chose a name and went to get the encyclopedia I needed from the
shelf.
Adam calls it the library, but Hannah says it's more a home
for dust and dust bunnies.
I went back to sit down, and wrote for awhile.
"Crane?"
"What?" he asked, without looking up.
"There's not very much about President Taft. It's going to
be hard to write two thousand words."
Crane looked at me and I said quickly,
"I'm not complaining, there really isn't very much."
"Well, get that book about all the Presidents, see if there's more
in there about him."
I pushed myself off the couch and went back to the bookshelf.
After a couple minutes I said, "Isn't that the big black book?"
"Yeah."
"It's not here."
Crane looked up again, taking off his glasses to frown
at me. " Harlie. Not my project, not my problem. Figure it out."
I could remember seeing the book somewhere recently, and I tried to think where
it was. Then I'd remembered that I'd seen Ford with it a few weeks before. I went upstairs
to Ford and Evan's room, opening the door and grimacing. Ford's side of the room was
fairly clean, but Evan's side was messy and downright disgusting. I picked my way
around his dirty clothes on the floor, and candy bar wrappers, and dirty dishes. I just
happened to look towards the window and then I saw the book. The boys were
using it to prop the window open. I went over and tried to move it, but the window
was stuck. I yanked a little, and was able to pull it out, but it pulled on my back.
I stood there a minute, catching my breath. Wow, I thought. This bruised kidney
stuff is nothing to mess with.
I shut the door to their bedroom, and went back downstairs, muttering to myself
about how heavy the book was, and how I didn't want to write reports about
Presidents, but when Crane looked up and said, "Found it, huh?",
I wisely kept my complaints to myself and just said, "Yeah."
I wrote for what seemed like forever, until Ford came in from school, and Evan
came in with him. Evan headed to the kitchen, and came back, carrying a handful
of cookies.
"Here," Ford said, handing me a folder of homework. "Mrs. Irwin says since you missed
the quiz to double up on the problems in the book. She put a note in there for you."
"Joy and jubilation," I said in irritation.
"What's wrong, Har?" he asked.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"What's for supper?" Ford asked Crane, taking one of Evan's cookies.
"Chicken and rice."
"Any dessert?" Ford asked hopefully.
"Brownies sound okay?" Crane asked him, with a grin.
"Brownies sound fantastic," Ford said.
Crane laughed and went towards the kitchen.
I was so frustrated right then I felt as if I was going to explode. Unfortunately, for Evan,
he happened to be there at that moment. Evan will argue back with me, whereas Ford and
Guthrie won't. Evan makes a good target for my bad moods.
"Your room is disgusting," I told them, as Evan slouched into
a chair to eat his cookies. "Especially your side, Evan."
"So?"
"So, it's disgusting. It looks like a family of pigs lives in there."
"I thought we called truce," he reminded me.
"We did. I'm just telling you. You better get it cleaned up before
Hannah gets home."
"If you don't like it, don't go in there," Evan said.
"I would be happy to never go in there, but unfortunately, I HAD to go in, to
find something that should never have been in there in the first place!" I snapped,
and thumped the black book.
"So go in, get it, and go back out. Mind your own business."
"I'm surprised you don't catch some disease from living in filth," I told him.
Ford, ever the peacemaker, said, "Har, come on-"
But I was on a roll. "I bet Chelsee Thomas would think it was disgusting, too," I said,
naming Evan's current love interest.
Evan brushed cookie crumbs off his jeans. "Why don't you give everybody around here a break,
Harlie, and stop being a pain in the ass?"
I could feel myself getting more angry. I was so mad that I wanted to make Evan mad, too.
"Why don't you shut up?!" I countered childishly.
Evan stood up. "I don't think I will," he said. "I think I'll tell you some honest truth about
yourself."
I stood up, too, glaring at him. "There's nothing you need to tell me!"
"Well, somebody needs to tell you what's what."
"I've heard everything I need to hear!" I yelled. From Brian! Crane! Daniel! I'll have to
hear it from Adam, and probably even Guthrie! I don't need YOU to tell me what's what!"
"Everybody around here's trying to be nice to you, and help you, even though you
did something stupid. And you don't even appreciate it, you're just being a spoiled brat."
"I'm not a spoiled brat!"
Evan eyes were flashing in temper. He kind of looked me over, and then he said,
"I call it as I see it. And I see a brat." He turned and went towards the front
door.
I yelled after him, "Well, I call it as I see it! And I see a bonafied jerk!"
Evan's only answer to that was the slammed front door. Ford gave me a look,
and I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't, he just turned and
went outside, too, but he shut the door quietly.
I was breathing hard, and my face felt hot. I felt like throwing something, and I
might have, but I turned to see Crane standing there, a big cooking spoon in his
hand. I guessed that he'd heard the whole argument between Evan and I.
Great, I thought. Now I'll catch it for that, too. But Crane didn't say anything.
He just shook his head a little and went back to the kitchen.
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