Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
The task at hand is to get this kid to a hospital. But Kat and I came on bikes, so there’s no chance we can get him back to Wainscott Hollow ourselves. What would we do, carry him?
“I think we have to call an ambulance,” I tell Kat.
“What the hell are we going to say happened to him? We can’t do that because they’ll think it’s you, Heath. Cops are biased, and Wainscott Hollow still sees you as an outsider even though you’re legally adopted. What if they throw you in jail? It will be your word against Henry, and he’ll no doubt throw you under the bus.”
“What other choice do we have?”
“Leave him here and report it anonymously when we get home?” Kat suggests. But even she doesn’t seem convinced by her plan. We both know he could pass out and suffocate in his own blood.
“He stood up for us. It doesn’t feel right to leave him bleeding out on a bridge. What if they can’t find him?” I’ve already got my phone and Kat nods in agreement. Just because Henry is a soulless coward who only knows how to lash out in anger doesn’t mean Kat and I can’t do the right thing.
“Hello, this is Heath Cliffton and Katelyn Shaw. We’re out on Millcreek bridge, and we need an ambulance for a friend who’s suffered a broken nose and possibly a concussion.”
Kat looks at me with so much trust and appreciation in her eyes that my heart swells with pride.
Waiting for help to arrive seems like hours. Kat sits on the ground with Eddie’s head in her lap. I know it’s purely functional and platonic, but my gut twists in jealousy. I mentally scold myself about her being my sister, though Kat has always been more than a sister to me.
I’ve cleaned all the remaining fish, packed the filets away in a cooler, stored all of our gear, and left the site cleaner than we found it, except for the crimson stains of Eddie’s blood on the dusty ground.
The ambulance barely fits down the old Millcreek dirt road, and it ambles along without sirens or any sense of real urgency. The EMT takes Eddie’s vitals and asks if he ever regained consciousness after the blow.
“His eyes were part-way open afterward, but since then, he’s been out cold,” Kat tells the young man. She explains her brother hit him and then took off with his friends. The EMTs take our names and raise an eyebrow at our shared address.
“You from around here, kid? Don’t recognize the name,” one of them says.
They’re not police, but the energy is the same. My outsider status is a threat to this rich white vacationers’ paradise and select year-round community of elites, and I’m a threat to the status quo.
“I’m originally from the Bronx, but Mr. Shaw is my guardian now,” I tell them.
They share a knowing glance that seems foreboding and reminds me I’ll never be one of them no matter how long I live here or which upstanding citizen adopts me.
Back at Wainscott Hollow, Mr. Shaw is waiting for us in the foyer when we finally pedal home. Kat drops her things to the floor with one look at his expression, which spells imminent doom. Henry has gotten to Shaw first, and the man has obviously bought his son’s story, which starred me as the villain if the look on his face is any indication.
“Dad, Heath helped Eddie. It was Henry who—”
Kat is cut off by her furious father. “Katelyn, go to your room. You’ll no longer be allowed to go out on excursions with Heath without Henry to chaperone!”
Kat cries out in frustration but obeys her father’s command.
I stand in the foyer before him and drop my things. I guess a beating was coming my way today, at the hands of the father or the son. It doesn’t make much difference to me.
Shaw removes his belt and tells me to take off my shirt. My back is scarred from the last time, but what choice do I have to protest? When in Rome—unless you want to catch the next city bus back to the South Bronx and try the streets for a few nights. Find out exactly how much you’ll miss your king-sized bed with the sheets that cost more than some people’s rent.
Shaw gives it to me, and I clench my jaw to keep myself from crying out, from giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much it fucking hurts. I nearly vomit when, out the corner of my eye, I catch Henry smirking from the den, taking it all in like a drive-in movie for the criminally insane. His grin is devious and full of spite as he watches me take the beating that should be his.
I crash on the bed on my stomach without taking off my filthy blood-stained clothes. Falling into a state of fitful sleep, I dream of my mom and the long train rides we’d take to the beach in the summer. Not white rolling sand like out here on the sound, but city beaches strewn with garbage and broken glass, foot-long hotdogs and funnel cakes, and rides on the Cyclone.