The doorbell rings, making us both jump. Fuzzy goes crazy, leaping off me and running to the foyer, yipping all the way. The doorbell rings again. Joey and I look at each other.
“Don’t look at me,” he says. “You get it.” He nudges me with his foot.
When I open the door, Max deVos is standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Hey, Emory,” he says. “Joey home?”
Max deVos once got so messed up at school his head dropped into the mashed potatoes on his lunch tray. All his friends laughed and kept eating. Only Joey lifted him up and cleaned him off. Slapped his face until he came to and told the cafeteria monitor, Ms. Richards, that Max was just tired from studying, which I’m sure she didn’t believe for a second, because, well, it’s Max deVos. His brain is only wired for two things: pot and skateboarding.
“I don’t know, Max,” I say tentatively. I’m thinking about what our mom said about Joey’s friends coming over. You don’t want to get on my mother’s bad side.
“I just want to say hi. I don’t have anything.” He takes his hands from his pockets, holds them out, empty.
From behind me, Joey says, “Hey, man.” His voice sounds hesitant.
Max’s eyes brighten. “Dude, hey. Wow, your hair. That’s intense. How you been?”
“How do you think?” Joey says.
Max’s smile dies. “Sorry, man. I just thought I’d come over, maybe play some Assassin’s Creed. Hang out.”
Next to me, Joey shifts in an uncomfortable way.
“You high?” he asks Max softly.
“What? No! I mean, not right now, anyway. I swear, I just want to hang out.”
“I can’t,” my brother says slowly. “I can’t hang out with anyone who’s using. I’ll get kicked out of the house.”
Max’s face falls. “Are you kidding me? I can’t even play a video game with you?”
Joey swallows hard. “No.”
“Dude. I’m your friend.” Max’s voice cracks. “This is stupid.”
“I can’t. I just can’t. It is the way it is. I gotta go, Max.” Joey walks away.
Max looks at me. “I mean, for real?”
“For real,” I answer.
“Like for how long?”
“I’m not really sure? I mean, he has to try to be sober forever, Max.”
“Shit.” Max shoves his hands back in his pockets, shakes his head. He turns and walks down the steps, back to his skateboard, rides away. I shut the door.
Joey’s pacing in the living room.
“You’ll make other friends,” I tell him. But I’m not sure I believe it. The kids Joey hangs out with all get high, for the most part. And like me, he’s probably not going to get the best reception when school starts, because of Candy MontClair.
“No, I won’t.” He stops pacing. “Can I borrow your phone? Mom hasn’t bought me another one yet.”
“I don’t know…” My fingers tighten around my phone. What if he calls someone, maybe Max, and he disappears, and they get high?
“I just want to call Shadow, okay? He was my Blue Spruce counselor. I need to talk to someone. You can check the damn number if you want. I can put it on speakerphone! Jesus!” He’s yelling.
“Okay,” I say, my voice shaking. “Calm down.” I hand my phone to him.
He grabs it from me. Takes a few deep breaths. “Sorry.”
Then he says, “No, I’m not sorry. I need to do this. I should have just said thank you.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, but is it? It’s good that he’s calling his counselor, right? My mom can’t get mad about that. Calling your counselor is definitely something that spells reaching out and asking for help. The Blue Spruce handbook says that’s a good thing.
Joey goes into the kitchen. I stand outside the doorway.
In a few minutes, he starts talking. “It’s me. Joe Ward. You said I could call anytime.”
Came to my house
Just wanted to play video games
How am I supposed to
I don’t know anyone who doesn’t use
Outpatient and school start next week it’s overwhelming You didn’t tell me they’d take my doors
Well, they did
I’m like a prisoner here
Shit
Can’t calm down
My sister
Okay
Joey calls my name. I step into the kitchen. The tile is cold under my bare feet.
“He wants to talk to you.”
“What? Me? Why? No.” I shake my head. What am I supposed to say to his counselor? “Hi, tell me how to keep my brother from dying?”
“Please.” Joey holds the phone out, his hand shaking. I take it.
“Hey, Emory,” the voice says. “This is Shadow, Joe’s leader from Blue Spruce. I heard a lot about you over the summer. I need your help right now, okay?”
My voice is only a whisper. “Okay.”
I’m trying to picture what he looks like. He sounds youngish, but how young could he be to have a job like this?
“Joe’s in a bad place right now. You know the situation?”
“Yes. Max came over.”
“Yes. It’s really, really hard when old friends come by when you’re trying to maintain recovery. Your desire for friendship and connection is huge, but you have to say no to people who aren’t sober, and that can be an extremely hard and lonely thing to do. You know?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I’m really proud of Joe for telling his friend he couldn’t come in, but I need you to do something for me, okay? It’s going to seem really small, but it’s actually pretty big.
“I want you to take Joe for a walk, a hike, anything to clear his head. Sometimes being active, getting our blood flowing, is a way to calm down and refocus. Be outside. Breathe the air.”
Joey is holding Fuzzy tight, nuzzling her fur. I can’t see his face.
“I can’t…I can’t hike or walk for a long time. I have a bad knee.”
There’s a pause. “That’s right. You were in the car. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forgotten that.”
“We have a pool, though. It’s a nice day. We could swim. Can we swim?”
“Oh, for sure! That’s excellent. I love that. Thank you. These are just things that we need to do to help Joey, okay? Keep him safe, keep him feeling like he has a support system. I’ll give your mom a call, let her know what—”
“Oh, no, not our mom.” My voice rises in an embarrassing squeak. Joey looks up, shaking his head. “No, you can’t…don’t do that. She’ll get…that just wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Shadow pauses. “I see. Okay. I get it. I’m not a fan of omission, but I get it. Can you save my number in your phone? In case you need it sometime? I’ll save yours, too, okay? I’m a big fan of yours, Joey talked about you a lot. You sound like a good sister. Joey said you taught him to read. That’s amazing.”
I don’t say anything.
We used to read for hours in the fort in my dad’s den. My parents were always frustrated with him. They thought he wasn’t working hard enough, that he was lazy. I read a lot of books to Joey, just the two of us, until he got the hang of it.