But I just can’t find the words to make it all end.
“Tyler!” I hear Mom’s voice echo from somewhere in the distance, but the reality is that she’s right next to me, because suddenly her arms are wrapping around me and she’s pulling me in close, squeezing me tight as though she’s afraid I’ll disappear again. “What were you even thinking?”
I open my eyes, suffocating under Mom’s hold, and she is planting kisses into my hair. I try to look at her out of the corner of my eye, but it’s impossible to see her face when she’s clinging onto me so closely, so I remain paralyzed in place. I look up to see Dad’s expression instead, but he’s not here. My eyes dart all over the office in search of him, but only Mom has come.
Officer Gonzalez is watching us closely, his arms folded loosely across his chest, and he gives me a reassuring nod. “He was over in Wilshire on Twelfth Street,” he explains. “Kid posted up by a tree? I thought I better check it out. Turns out he was worried you were mad at him for that fight at school.” He lets out a small chuckle. “I didn’t realize he was your son.”
“Oh, Tyler,” Mom says, exhaling a long breath of air. She releases her hold on me now and leans back, delicately cupping my busted-up face in her hands, her fingertips brushing my bruised skin. She looks even worse than she did earlier. More worried, more stressed. Her eyes are wide as they pierce mine. “Don’t ever do something so stupid ever again.”
I glance down at the floor and give her a small, single nod. I didn’t mean to upset her again. Now I feel even guiltier. Today is officially the worst day of the entire year, and I just want Mom to take me home so that I can crawl straight into bed and sleep the rest of the night away.
“Thanks for picking him up,” Mom says, straightening up in front of me and turning to face Officer Gonzalez. She shakes his hand, then gently reaches for my shoulder. It’s our cue to leave, so I grab my backpack from the floor by my feet and stand up.
“No more fights at school, Tyler, alright?” Officer Gonzalez tells me with a teasing smile. I am staring back up at him, and although he isstillbeing nice, I wish he could have been more. I wish he could have helped. I wish I could have told himhowto help.
Mom guides me through the office, back toward the station’s reception. She gives small nods of acknowledgment to some of the officers and detectives that she’s acquainted with, but she definitely doesn’t stop for any small talk. It’s almost like she’s embarrassed, because her pace is much faster than usual, and she is quick to lead me through the reception and out the main entrance. As soon as the door closes behind us, Mom comes to a halt and steps in front of me, crouching down so that we’re at eye level. She reaches for my hands.
“Tyler,” she says sternly, searching my expression for answers. “Why would you even do such a thing? What is wrong with you?”
“You and Dad were mad at me,” I admit quietly, staring down at my hands in hers. I try to pull away, but she tightens her hold. I didn’t mean to worry her.
“Of course we were mad. You were in a fight, Tyler!” She closes her eyes, tilts her head down, and releases a frustrated sigh. She is quiet for a few seconds, as though she is thinking, and then she opens her eyes again and looks at me with a small smile. “I’m sure as you get olderthere will be a lot of things I’ll get mad at. I’m your mom. It’s my job. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, and it doesn’t mean you should run away. Okay?” She squeezes my hands again.
“Okay,” I say. I swallow and dare myself to ask, “Where’s Dad?” I’m relieved he hasn’t shown up, but also worried that the reason he isn’t here is because he is too angry to look at me.
“At home with your brothers,” Mom tells me as she lets go of my hands and straightens back up. “He doesn’t know, so let’s keep this between us. I told him you walked to Dean’s, so he’s still not pleased with you for sneaking out, but at least he doesn’t knowwhy. You know how protective he is.”
I stare at her. Protective? Dad is the one I need protectionfrom. She really has no idea. Which is what I want, I guess. I’ve tried so hard to keep it all hidden, to keep the truth from surfacing, to protecther. I’m doing good, it seems, but it’s so, so hard. I am letting myself get hurt in order to protect my family, but if I tell the truth, then I’ll hurtthem. Either way, it feels like I can’t win.
“Mom,” I say as she’s searching through her purse for her car keys. She casts a quick sideways glance at me, raising an eyebrow and listening. But I don’t know what to say. Every time I think I might just have the courage to finally tell someone, the words get stuck in my throat. I can’t say it. I can’t admit it. So, just like I did with Officer Gonzalez, I go for the easy way out. I tell her, “I’m tired.”
“Good,” Mom says, “because you’re going straight to bed when we get home.”
My heart sinks. Even my own mom can’t hear the pain in my voice, or see the anguish in my eyes, or the bruises all over my body. Even when I want her to.
54
Present Day
I watch over Eden for hours, listening to her soft breathing as she sleeps. I have opened the curtains again and am leaning against the window, watching the party carry on without us. It’s the middle of the night, but all of the lights are still flashing, even brighter now through the darkness. I can still see the crowds down on the beach partying by the stage. Very faintly, I can still hear the music.
I hear movement from behind me, and I crane my neck to look over at the bed. Through the darkness, I see Eden stirring. She pushes the sheets away from her and rolls over, desperately reaching out and fumbling for her water on the bedside table. She props herself up on her elbow and chugs it down as though she has been thirsty for weeks. I know how it feels waking up after the night before.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her gently.
Eden stops drinking and tilts her head up, her surprised gaze coming to rest on me in the corner of the room. She stares at me for a few seconds before she finally says, “Better. What time is it?”
“Three,” I say. I glance out of the window again and let out a small laugh. “The party’s still going strong.”
As she comes into focus through the dark, I notice she has her eyebrows furrowed. “Didn’t you go back?”
“No,” I tell her. Did she think that I would? Did she really think I would leave her here alone? “I was worried that you’d throw up or something,” I admit, and my voice grows quiet. “Plus it was probably best that I just stayed away from it all.”
Around this time last year, I would have been at Tiffani’s place by now, probably suffering through my seizure with no idea what was actually going on. I seemed to totally black out, but from what my friends have told me about that night, it sounds pretty damn terrifying. It’s been an entire year, and I still haven’t learned from it. I’mstillhitting Declan up a couple times a week.
“What’s wrong?” Eden asks as she sits up.
“Nothing,” I lie, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my elbows on them, interlocking my hands. I have opened up to her about things before, but this is something I really don’t want to talk about. I don’t even want to imagine what she would think of me.
