After I ate all of my food, Dad took me outside to the playground so I could play for a few minutes. I proudly put my sunglasses on and kept the front of my shirt pulled down in front. The second we got to the playground, I took off for the Mayor McCheese climber. My stomach hurt as I climbed all the way to the top, but I tried to ignore it. There were a few kids inside the top who were looking down at their parents waiting below. I looked around to make sure Dad was still here. My heart pounded until I saw him under the shaded area with the tables and benches.
“Hey, did you pee your pants?” some kid asked me.
“No,” I lied and pulled my legs closer to hide the wet spot.
“Oooh! I’m telling my mom you peed,” another kid said and hurried down the ladder.
“No, I spilled Coke,” I called after them.
“You’re a baby wearing dorky sunglasses,” the first kid said. “I’m telling too.”
No. I scooted over to the ladder and climbed down. I raced over to my dad.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m ready to go now.”
I wore my sunglasses home and even closed my eyes. I was tired and hurt, but I was no longer hungry. When we got home, I went to the couch to lie down while wearing my sunglasses. Faintly, I could hear my parents talking in the kitchen.
“Twelve hundred,” Dad said.
“Not bad for a weekend without having to hear him,” Mom replied. “Arrange for it next week.”
Were they talking about me?
“We need to space this out. If we make him available too often, there won’t be as much interest. Besides, he’s a mess.”
“So what, Brad?”
“We can’t be careless.”
Chad came out of nowhere and jumped on my stomach, causing me to cry out.
“Ow! Stop!” I cried and began shoving at Chad. He pinned my arms down with his knees and then knocked my sunglasses off. “Stop it!”
“Nice sunglasses, asshole.”
“Shut up!” I yelled and freed my arms to punch him.
“It was really nice not having you around this weekend.”
Chad pulled me off the couch, and we wrestled and fought, exchanging punches as we went.
“Ryan.”
I faintly heard my name firmly being called as I pushed at my brother. I seemed to have the upper hand now.
“Ryan. Easy, Ryan.”
I continued to push at my brother. He didn’t seem to be fighting back, but I could feel his hands on my forearms.
“Easy, my boy.”
I pushed at the chest of who I thought was my brother. Why wasn’t he fighting back?
“Ryan, open your eyes,” the voice commanded.
My heart pounded and I was breathing hard.
