The only silver lining is that so long as they’re here, Jo will be safe. Sure, she’s probably going insane stuck inside the walls of that house, subject to her parents’ constant scrutiny… but at least she isn't wandering around, a target for my brother and his many enemies.
After talking to Jaxon, I’m strangely calm. I shouldn’t be — the situation is more dire than ever, seeing as he’s disappeared again, leaving me with no more than a weak assurance that he’d quote-handle everything-unquote. Perhaps, after a month of living in fear, I’ve simply become numb to it.
I walk the halls of Exeter, anesthetized to the end-of-year chaos exploding all around me. With just over a week of classes left, my classmates are ensconced in a cloying charade of nostalgia. They pass yearbooks back and forth. They wipe tears at their lockers. They hug people they’ve barely spoken to since freshman year, declaring false intentions to keep in touch.
Class itself is an endless stream of group projects and boring thesis papers. Most teachers are either unwilling or unable to fight against the so-called “senior slide.” They hand out plentiful As, more than ready to see us move on — into adulthood, out of their hair. Several of them take me aside after class and tell me not to worry about my final exams at all.
Focus on pitching.
You’ve got a title to win.
Go Wolfpack!
I disappear into baseball, grateful for the distraction of playoff games and long practices. There’s a new game every night, a fresh team to conquer. As the week trudges on, the Wolves advance steadily through the bracket, defeating Lowell and North Andover, then BC High and Braintree. Our eyes are fixed on the State Championship trophy — the crown jewel of an undefeated season.
If Coach Hamm notices Ryan Snyder’s fresh set of black eyes, or the fact that his first baseman and star pitcher refuse to look at one another, he chooses to ignore it. For what it’s worth, the beating I gave Snyder in the parking lot on Monday morning was less about inflicting pain than it was delivering a promise.
Touch Josephine again and you will live to regret it.
Much as I’m loathe to admit it, Jaxon was right about one thing. There is a new violence birthed inside me; a burning anger I find myself unequipped to contend with. At any given moment, it’s liable to lash out — a solar flare off the surface of the sun, destroying everything in close orbit. The longer I suppress it, the more the sensation heightens.
Monday.
Tuesday.
Wednesday.
Thursday.
By the time my birthday rolls around on Friday… I am a supernova, primed to combust.
* * *
Friday morning,I jerk awake when my parents throw open my bedroom door. They step inside the room, paper party hats sitting lopsided atop their heads, and start singing in off-key voices.
“Feliz Cumpleaños a ti. Feliz Cumpleaños a ti. Feliz Cumpleaños a Archer! Feliz Cumpleaños a ti.” They grin in unison. “We love you!”
I sit up, rubbing bleary eyes. “Thank you, thank you. Though, if you really loved me, you would’ve let me sleep in.”
”Hush!” Ma swats at me playfully.
Pa reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “Happy birthday, son.”
“My baby is eighteen already!” Ma sniffles. “How time flies.”
“Ma, don’t cry.”
“I’m not!” she lies, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I just can’t believe you’re so grown up. Before I know it, you’ll be off at college…”
“Here we go again.” I sigh. “Ma, Bryant is only a two hour drive from here. I’ll be home so much, you won’t even miss me. I promise.”
The air goes still. They glance at each other.
“Bryant?”
I grin devilishly. “Did I not mention that I’d made my decision? I’m planning to announce it after the Championship game tomorrow night. But I wanted to tell you guys first.”
“Mijo! We are supposed to be giving you gifts today, not the other way around.” Ma abandons her handkerchief, full-on crying now.