“Normally, it’d be fully healed by now given how small the fracture was, but it’s taking longer due to how weak the bone is after breaking it the first time,” he explains with a frown, then edges forward in his seat and reaches out his hand. “Let’s take a look.”
I roll the sleeve of my hoodie back up to my elbow and hold out my wrist to him. I’ve done this all over before, earlier this year when Dad fractured my wrist in the exact same place when he grabbed me too hard, so I know the routine. Dr. Coleman bends my hand in different angles. Rolls it. Prods my skin deeply with his thumb.
“Just stiffness?” he asks once he sits back again, angling himself toward his computer.
“Yeah,” I say. Quickly, I pull my sleeve back down.
Dr. Coleman begins typing and over his shoulder he says, “It’s feeling pretty good to me. Give it a couple more weeks, and if it’s still feeling tight, come and see me again.” He stops typing and swivels back around in his chair to face me, moving his glasses an inch down the bridge of his nose. “I still don’t understand how you were unfortunate enough to break that wristtwicein the same year. Some odds those are, Tyler. When you turn eighteen, make sure you try out the lottery!” He laughs and gives me a wink.
“He can be so clumsy,” Mom says. Even without looking at her, I can sense she’s rolling her eyes. “We can’t keep him on his feet half the time!”
“Must run in the family. Old Pete was always tripping out on the field when we were young!” he says. We get to our feet, and he exchanges a smile and shakes hands with Mom. I’m pretty sure Grampa must have been genuinely clumsy, whereas I’m not. “Make sure he does those exercises.”
“Of course,” Mom says, placing her hand back on my shoulder again when I stand up.
I feel sick now. Even Dr. Coleman doesn’t know what’s really going on. But I guess I make it difficult for anyone to figure out. Half of me desperately wishes someone would, but the other half of me knows better.
“Tyler,” Dr. Coleman says as we’re heading for the door. Mom and I pause to look back at him, and he shakes his head with a small laugh. “No more running down the stairs too fast, okay? I don’t want to see you breaking that wrist for a third time!”
If only I could promise him that.
22
Present Day
As the week progresses, I make every best attempt I can at emphasizing who Tyler Bruce is whenever Eden is around. I fucked up big time on Tuesday night, and I need to salvage that. She can’t figure out that I’m notactuallyas bad as everyone thinks I am. So, I’ve put my skills to the test and have been delivering the ultimate performance all week. I’ve been ignoring her mostly, only glaring at her, but I sometimes mutter cocky remarks or demand that she gets out of my way. And, so far, it’s working.
Even now, I can hear her. Our rooms are right next door to one another and for the past five minutes, I’ve been subjected to hearing her talk on the phone. It’s not clear enough to make outexactlywhat she’s saying, but it’s clear enough to hear her voice. That’s why, as I’m lying across my bed flicking through text messages, I don’t have my TV on or any music playing. I already have background noise to listen to.
You better get over here pretty soon if you wanna have a shot at making any $$$
Declan has texted. His party is tonight. I’m supposed to be going, but I haven’t found the energy to get ready yet. It’s still early though.
It’s the perfect night for this party to be taking place. Once a month, Tiffani stays at her dad’s place, which means that one weekend each month I have to survive without her. But for once, I’m glad she’s at her dad’s tonight. If she was here and knew I was heading out to a party thrown by Declan Portwood, there’d be no way in hell I’d ever get anywhere near it.
But I guess I’m sort of nervous about it. Declan says it’s the perfect opportunity to get me started, to meet the right kind of people, but I’m starting to have doubts. I haven’t thought this through too much, and now I’m getting wrapped up in it way too fast. I’m not sure if I really want to go down this path.
I hear Eden’s voice again. All husky and low. I wonder whatshe’sdoing tonight. Probably nothing. Maybe she’d like a party. There are two benefits to inviting her: One, she gets to see me as Tyler Bruce, and that should distract her from the fact I was actuallyniceto her the other night. And two, I won’t have to go to this party alone.
I roll out of bed and glance at myself in my mirror. I narrow my eyes, testing out their intensity, and I tighten my jaw a little. Even tame my hair. Then, I clear my throat and walk out into the hall. I pause outside of her bedroom door for a second, listening in closely, and I hear her tell someone not to miss her too much.
I push open the door without much consideration over whether or not she’s still on the phone and I take a single step into the room. “Who were you talking to?”
Luckily, the call seems to be over. Eden’s cross-legged on her bed and her gaze flicks up to meet mine. I can literallyseethe irritation in her eyes. “Did I say you could come in?”
“Who were you talking to?” I ask again. I’m trying to sound like as much of an asshole as possible,butI may also be slightly curious. “You got a boyfriend back in Portland or some shit?”
Eden stares blankly at me, barely impressed by my interruption. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“My room is right next door. The walls are thin as hell.”
“Okay, well, I was talking to my mom,” she finally tells me as she stands up. Good. Does that mean there’s no boyfriend, then? I don’t want to ask, so I just stay silent. Eden looks at the clock. “Shouldn’t you be out doing something?”
“That’s actually what I gotta talk to you about.” Thank God she asked, because I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I close the door—I don’t want anyone overhearing—and walk over to her. I keep a safe distance of at least three feet between us, and she is watching me closely with those curious, big eyes of hers. “You’re not doing anything tonight, right?”
“No,” she says. “Everyone’s busy.”
“Alright, you’re coming with me,” I tell her. Tyler Bruce doesn’t ask. Tyler Bruce demands. She’s not getting a choice. “Party down on 11th Street. Don’t mention it to your dad.” Without giving her the chance to reply, I quickly turn my back on her.
