After we were in the air, I showed Jensen how to recline his seat and then I reclined mine as well. We had several hours where we could sleep before we had to stop in New York. I had just closed my eyes when I felt a light bump on my arm. I pried my eyes open and saw Jensen’s head was resting against my arm and shoulder. His boney and bruised body was somewhere inside my coat still. He obviously trusted me enough to lean against me. Just like Michael had when we were younger. Many, many times.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Sawyer
“Hey, are you listening to me, Mike?” I asked as I twirled my pencil between my fingers.
Mike had called me to keep him company while his parents fought in the background. Apparently, they were arguing about another woman. Mike’s dad is such a dick.
“I hate him, Sawyer. He told Mom she was worthless and said he hated us.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just saying all of that because he’s drunk.”
“He says it all the time.”
“He’s drunk a lot,” I reminded him. “Hey, so do you think you want to play kickball or basketball during lunch recess tomorrow?” I asked him while trying to keep his mind off all the noise in the background.
“I don’t care. Basketball, I guess.”
“Okay, cool. Wear your Air Jordans tomorrow and I’ll wear mine. Don’t want to wear those if we’re playing kickball.”
Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like it was much closer to him.
“What was that?” I asked. I dropped my pencil on my desk and stared at my ski calendar on the wall. “Mike?”
“Um, I need to go.”
“No! No, you don’t. What was that noise?”
“I need to go, Sawyer. He’s pounding on my door.”
“No. Stay in your room, Mike!”
“It’ll only make it worse. I’m tired of hiding from him.”
“Use your head. Stay in your room. He’s crazy when he drinks.”
Just then it sounded like the door flew open and, in the background, I could hear his dad swearing.
“Mike?”
“I have to go!”
“Get off the damn phone and make yourself useful!” His dad’s voice was so close to the phone, I knew he had Mike in hand. The phone line went dead, and I slammed the receiver down in anger. I hated his dad.
* * *
“Hey, Mike!” I finally spotted him over by the bench.
I’d been worried about him and couldn’t sleep last night. His dad was crazy.
I abandoned the game of four square that I’d been dominating all morning and ran over to see my best friend. I ignored the voices of my other friends calling me back to the game.
I sat beside Mike and glanced at his face and neck while he watched the basketball game. His hair was still damp from a shower, and I didn’t see any marks on his face. Though, I did see stray bruises in the shape of what looked like fingers on the right side of his neck that he tried to conceal with the hood of his sweatshirt.
“What happened last night?”
He shrugged.
