“Sam?” I say. “Sam, whatever happened here. What happened to you . . . It’s not going to define who you are. You know that, right?”
I feel him nod on my shoulder. “I know,” he says.
It’s not going to define any of us, I think. Not me, not Mom, not Josh. Sure, we’ll never forget it—how could we? And maybe it’s made us who we are today. But it’s not the only thing in life. There’s so much more.
“We can talk about it,” I say. “You can . . . if you need to, if you ever want to, you can tell me things.”
“Bad things?”
“Everything,” I say. I know it will be hard to for me to handle. But what I really can’t handle is Sam not being there, for the rest of my life.
After a while, Sam lifts his head off my shoulder and stands up. He reaches out his hand and pulls me up and hugs me. We stand there like that for what seems like forever. And I truly feel it then: Sam’s back. I have my brother back.
“Beth,” he says, whispering into my ear. “Please get me out of here. Please take me home.”
CHAPTER 18
Any Other Freshman
Beth and Josh
Beth
We’re at the kitchen door, ready to go, and Mom is smiling even though I know she’s nervous. Earl stands behind her, and he grins in a big, encouraging way.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” she asks Sam.
“I’m sure,” he says, letting out an exasperated laugh.
Sam got a haircut last weekend. He’s wearing a new shirt that I helped him pick out, and his favorite jeans. It’s April, and this is his first day of school. He’ll have to take summer classes to catch up, but unlike anyone else I know he seems excited about this. Excited about school in general.
It took a while to convince Mom, though.
“It’s too soon,” she would say, even when Lane, Sam’s tutor, told her he was making a lot of progress.
It wasn’t the schoolwork she was worried about. Sam hadn’t been around lots of kids his own age in years. But Josh was always around our house, and Donal and Chita and the girls had been coming around a lot, too—to watch movies, for game nights, an occasional sleepover. Even Grace came over once for dinner, and Sam was shy around her and everything, just like old times. He’s still getting used to being around other kids.
And they’re getting used to being around him.
“I worry,” Mom told me one night in March when we were talking about it, when Sam was back in his room. “I worry about how Sam will be treated. By his classmates.”
“They’ll be cool, Mom. They’ll like him,” I said, though I knew there might be some jerks. “He’ll just be like any other freshman.”
“But Sam’s different.”
We’re all different, I wanted to tell her. Instead, I said, “Mom. He’ll have me there, and Josh. And all my friends. We’ll protect him.”
It was Donal, of all people, who convinced her. He came over one day when the weather had finally gotten better and we all played soccer in the front yard. All those moves Sam had as a kid came rushing back.
“Sam could make the team if he tried out,” Donal said in an offhand way, when we were back inside. “He’s so quick on his feet. We need fast guys.”
I could see Mom looking at Sam, like she saw something new about him. “You think?” Mom said.
“Oh, most definitely,” Donal said.
Sam cracked open a Coke and took a sip, then let out a ridiculous burp.
“God, Sam,” I said, but I was smiling.
A week later, Mom relented. She went to the school, talked to the principal, a few of the counselors, and then to Sam’s tutor, his psychiatrist. It was decided that it would be good for him, for socialization purposes more than anything else. Lane the tutor is going to stick around, because he’ll still need a lot of extra help.
“We’re gonna be late,” I say, wanting to avoid any emotional displays. I want this to feel just like any old day for Sam, though I know that’s impossible.
“Okay, go,” Mom says, hugging Sam, then me. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
We hug Earl, too. “You kids have fun,” he says, like we’re going to a movie and not school.
We drive along, listening to the radio. Sam seems too nervous to talk. And I guess I kind of am, too. Or maybe it’s excitement.
I pull into the Central parking lot and find a spot in the back. Sam gazes ahead at the school, and through his eyes I see that it’s big and ugly and kind of imposing. But I can see an excited twinkle in his eye.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says, his smirk bursting into a confident smile. A smile that I’m seeing more and more of. At times I’ll still see flashes of darkness cross his face, too, like he’s remembering something—or trying to forget. “Sam,” I’ll say, when this happens, “you okay? You want to talk?” Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t. But he knows I’m there for him either way.
Up ahead, I spot Josh, waiting by the back doors.
“You go on ahead. I mean, I don’t want to cramp your style,” I say, teasing.
I think about my first day of school as a freshman, and how alone I felt. How alone I was.
But Sam’s not alone, like I told Mom. He already has more friends than I had on my first day.
“Okay. Here I go,” he says.
“Remember, meet me at the soccer fields after school?” I say. Donal wants to introduce him to his coach, because eventually he’ll try out for next year’s soccer team.
“Got it,” he says, but he seems suddenly wary.
“It’s gonna be great,” I insist. “It really is.” I think about that first moment I’ll pass him in the hall. Seeing Sam where he belongs. Seeing Sam leading the life he was meant to live. I feel like I might turn into a big sap and start crying, but I hold it in and smile.
Sam grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I know,” he says. He gets out of the car and I watch him walk toward the building, my hand still warm from when he touched it.
Josh
I have Dad drop me off at school on the early side, out front, and then I walk through the halls to the back entrance, where I’m supposed to meet Sam. I take a few breaths, hoping I can get rid of the butterflies in my stomach.
I try to not worry about how other people might act. It’ll be the first time most people see me with Sam.
The first time most people realize we’re friends.
I’ve been mentally preparing. I’m the class vice president, I keep reminding myself. Sure, maybe it’s a dumb, meaningless role, but people voted for me. They look up to me in some way. And when they see me with Sam, maybe they’ll think twice before they judge him.
The heavy back door of the school bangs open and I turn and see Nick step out.
“Oh, hey,” I say, a little startled to see him.
“Hey,” he says.
Last Friday, after tennis practice, I told Nick that Sam was coming back to school.
“For real?” he’d said, like he hoped I was kidding.
“Yeah,” I said. “He starts on Monday.”
However he really felt about it was plastered over by him saying, “Cool.”