Chapter 23

My phone continuesto vibrate along the floor. I don't have to check to see who it is.

On my bed, I lay sprawled out on my back with an ice pack on my face, staring up at the star and planet stickers still clinging to my ceiling after all these years. It's still light out, though there are far more shadows creeping along the room than when I first laid down, however long ago that was.

Mom's checked in on me a couple times since she got home. Asking if I want a drink. Soup. Xanax.

Nope, nope, yes times ten.

Not that I said that out loud. But I did accept one tiny pill and a glass of water I only drank about half of before becoming one with my mattress.

The phone finally stops vibrating for more than a few minutes.

Good. He finally gave up.

Assuming it's still Mason, that is. He'd texted three times before he tried calling. After that, I threw my phone on the floor and haven't moved a muscle since.

Music plays softly from the headphones still hanging around my neck. I don't know why I don't just put them over my ears, so it's not as muffled. If I do though, I won't hear the phone vibrating, so…

Can you be any more pathetic?

With a sigh, I pat my hands around me, until I find my iPod. Bringing it up to my face, I scroll through my list of playlists, before finally settling on an oldie, but fav, and hitting shuffle.

Of course—of course—it's his song that comes on first.

"You Get What You Give" by the New Radicals.

Groaning, I shake my head, and hit skip.

"Better," I mutter as "The Taste of Ink" by The Used kicks on. I shove the headphones up over my ears, and crank up the volume so there's no chance of me hearing my phone should it start vibrating again, and I close my eyes.

Eventually I must drift off—the anti-anxiety meds finally kicking in, and doing their thing—because I startle when the bed dips, my eyes flying open to find my sister looking down at me. I fumble for my iPod, hitting pause halfway through "Send the Pain Below" by Chevelle.

Sliding my headphones off, I scoot up against the headboard, my melted icepack sliding off my chest and onto the bed.

"Hey," I mutter.

Izzy searches my face. "Hey. Did I wake you?"

I give a little shrug.

Her lips purse, and I let my gaze sweep over her. Last I saw her she was standing up against a pissed off, spaghetti-drenched Ethan who's a good six inches taller than her, and twice as wide.

What a good brother I am, running away, letting my sister fight my battles.

Bitterness gnaws at my insides, with regret and anguish not far behind, when I see the bruises on her swollen knuckles.

"Your hand," I murmur.

She shrugs. "It's nothing. You should've seen the other guy. All that blood gushing out…"

My eyes bug, and she giggles.

I open my mouth to say something, when the distinct sound of a phone vibrating over carpet fills the room. Izzy's eyes dart behind me, to the other side of the bed. "You gonna get that?"

I shake my head. "It's no one." I gesture at her hand. "What about piano?"

She scowls. "What about it?"

I stare at her.

Rolling her eyes, she tosses the ice pack on the floor, and flips on to her back, joining me up against the bedframe. I wiggle to make room for her. Grabbing a pillow with her good hand, she holds it to her chest, and stares down at her swollen fingers.

"The nurse said I should be good as new in a couple days."

"You could've done some serious damage."

Another shrug. "Yeah, but it would've been worth it."

"No. No, Iz. I'm not worth that."

She whips her head toward me, brown hair flying. Glaring at me, she says, "You're worth everything."

My heart stutters at that.

"God, JJ," she breathes, and I kind of die inside. "How did I not know? Why didn't you say something?"

Shaking my head, I say, "It really wasn't that bad for a while. It did stop. I thought…I thought maybe for good. But…"

"But what?"

I inhale deeply, then release it. "I don't know. I guess they got bored. Missed me." I laugh bitterly, the sound rusty like it's been a while. Maybe it has.

"Maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe—"

The phone starts vibrating again, and I repress a growl.

Izzy's brows crawl up toward her hairline. And then she's trying to reach around me.

"Don't," I say, shoving her back. "It's nothing."

"Is it someone from school? Are they harassing you?" she rushes out, and I shake my head.

"No, no, it's nothing. Just spam, or whatever. What were you gonna say?"

She stares at me for a long moment. When the vibrating stops, she finally says, "Maybe you should go back to being homeschooled."

I tense.

"I just… You don't deserve to be treated like this. I-I'm scared, J."

Staring at her, I try to think of something to say.

Her mouth thins, then— "Ethan's been expelled. Dad said something about…pressing charges."

"And Clay?" I mutter.

Pressing charges. Is that up to me, or the school?

That's all I need…an even bigger target on my back than the one that's no doubt been put there after today's events.

Izzy shakes her head, outrage igniting her eyes.

Scoffing softly through my nose, I lean back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. "Figures."

"J—"

"I'm sick of being weak."

My words are met with silence, so I force myself to keep going.

"All my life, I've…I've been a coward. Doing my best to just….hide and?—"

"JJ."

"Why should I let them win? Why should I?—"

"You're not though," she whispers. She sits up, leaning over me, and presses her forehead to mine, just like we did when we were kids. "You're not weak. And you're not a coward. You're the strongest, bravest person I know."

I laugh weakly. "That's a lie."

"It's not," she says fiercely. Pulling back, she scowls at me. "You put up with so much crap, but you're still standing. Your anxiety, the bullies… You deal with so much more than any of us, but you still smile and laugh and-and…you're here, JJ."

An eerie sort of stillness settles over us at those two words.

You're here.

"High school isn't forever."

"Okay, Mom."

"I mean it," she says, giving my shoulder a nudge. "A couple more years, and you can…" She inhales deeply, before releasing it on her next words, "Leave."

My brows knit.

She looks down, dark lashes fanning her cheeks. "You can be free. Live life as… as you."

"Izzy," I warn.

"I know, I know. I'm not…presuming anything. I learned my lesson last time I tried to help."

I grit my teeth at the reminder of that awful day she decided to use a stupid kid's game as a sort of experiment for me.

"I'm just saying… You're too good for this town. Don't let it swallow you up. Get out there, and find yourself. Away from these small-minded people." Her gaze finds mine, fierce and determined. "We'll go together."

I sigh. "Iz…"

"I know I smother you," she says into a nod. "And make you feel worse sometimes, because I get all up in my head with ideas on how to make you feel better when I could just give you space, and?—"

"Izzy," I cut into her rambling gently.

She pouts. "But it's only because I love you."

I roll my eyes. "I know that."

"And I…I hate that I can't fix this for you. If I could, I'd trade places in a heartbeat, I'd?—"

"Don't say that," I whisper. Try as I might though, I can't stop the images her words conjure up—who we'd be if our lives were reversed, and I was the musical prodigy, I was the brave and fierce and outspoken one, I was the one with Mason as my boyfriend…

Would I be a girl in this reality…

Or would I still be a boy?

I frown at the thought.

"I mean it though."

"I know you do, but if it means having to choose who has anxiety, who gets bullied, I still choose me. I'm glad it's me," I tell her.

And it's true. As much as I hate my life sometimes—as much as it hurts to be me…

If given a choice between who has to suffer—me or her—I'll always choose me.

It sucks, but I'm used to it. I can take it.

I might resent my sister at times for how easy she has it. And yeah, I wish I could be even half as brave and fearless and steadfast as her. To be the kind of person who listens to their gut and follows their heart and doesn't think so damn much.

Sure. Absolutely. Of course. Who wouldn't want that?

But never, in a million years, would I ever wish my pain and loneliness upon her. Never would I wish to trade places, and snuff out that fire that makes Izzy Izzy.

The very thought of her being anything less than who she is makes my stomach churn.

She sighs, and sidles up next to me, putting us shoulder to shoulder. It's a lot darker now, with the stars and planets on my ceiling our only sources of light.

"Well, we can agree to disagree on that," she says, sinking down to rest her head on my shoulder.

I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "Whatever."

She goes to say something else, but whatever it is, is interrupted by another vibration—this time, it's coming from her jean pocket. She wiggles around, and digs out her pink RAZR. When I see an image of Mason's face on the small screen, something sinks inside me.

Maybe she senses it? Because she just sighs, and lets it ring, setting it face-up on her stomach. "I'll call him later." She cuts me a sideways look. "Surprised the wardens haven't confiscated it yet."

"Grounded?"

"Oh yeah. A whole week."

"The horror."

"Yup, Mason too?—"

Her phone lights up again with his stupid, perfect face gracing the screen. Even when he's got his lips pushed out like a duck, and his eyes crossed, he somehow manages to look good. If I took a picture of myself like that, I'd look ridiculous.

"It's okay," I murmur, glancing away.

Shaking her head, she sits up, flips open the phone, and hits Answer, bringing it to her ear. "Hey, I'm?—"

She frowns and whips her head toward me. "He's right here," she says, narrowing her eyes.

I grimace, and slink down the headboard, shoulders bunching around my ears. Busted.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's fine, Mason." She rolls her eyes and makes a talking gesture with her hand, mouthing blah blah blah, and I have to stifle a laugh."I see. Yep." She rears back, face bunching with confusion. "Sure…yeah, I'll let him know."

My heart rate kicks up.

"Love you too, bye."

She lowers the phone, flipping it shut. Turning toward me, she arches a brow. "You could've told me it was Mason harassing you."

I shrug.

"He just wanted to make sure you were okay. Said you weren't answering."

"Don't feel like talking."

She sighs, shaking her head. "He loves you, you know."

Everything in me stills.

Is…is that what he told her to tell me?

My pulse races so fast, it makes me lightheaded, even laying down.

"You're like a brother to him," she goes on, not missing a beat. "He was worried about you. You know how he gets."

Annnndddd cue images of Wile E. Coyote plummeting to the ground.

Only, instead, it's my heart.

"Yeah…" I murmur, my voice faint.

"He told me to tell you to not talk in class?" She says it like a question.

My brows knit. "What?"

"I have no idea. That's just what he wanted me to pass along." Izzy slithers down, and rolls onto her stomach. "Come on. Lay with me. I'm tired."

"What about dinner?"

She shrugs. "Not hungry. Tired."

Same…

Sliding down, I stretch out on my back, just as she throws an arm over my middle, and buries her face in my shoulder, my arm pinned between us.

"It's okay to love him," Izzy says after a long moment, her voice muffled by my shirt.

I stare blankly at the ceiling, wondering…

She can't…know…right?

"I love him too. It's impossible not to."

Again, I murmur, my voice barely audible, "Yeah."

"One day, when we get married, he'll be your brother for real."

"Uh huh," I say, feeling like I'm choking suddenly. It's pretty much word for word what she said years ago, and I want to scream.

Why? Why is she like this?

Is it a girl thing?

Is it me? Am I the outlier here?

Marriage. Kids. The future.

I never think about those things.

I don't want to.

It's this big, rippling void I'd much rather stay as far away from for as long as I can, so as not to risk what truths might surface from their black, murky depths.

Hey, sand? Can I rest my head in here for a bit? Thank you.

I feel more than hear my sister's yawn before she goes on, "It'll work out. For all of us. You'll find someone and fall in love too." I feel myself nodding as she sleepily rambles on about our futures, barely listening as the blood rushes to my ears.

She really has no clue.

I'd laugh if it wasn't so sad.

And here I thought with our so-called twin connection, I'd never be able to hide it from her…this thing inside me, growing stronger and stronger every day.

Minutes pass, her voice fading.

I frown, replaying Mason's message for me that she relayed. "Izzy?"

She grunts.

"What exactly did he say?"

"Huh?"

I shake her a bit. "Mason. His message for me. What did he say exactly, word for word."

She makes a soft sound, rubbing her face all over my arm like a cat. "He said, ‘Tell Jeremy, don't speak in class.'"

I stare at Saturn on my ceiling, rolling the words through my head.

Jeremy.

Not JJ.

Sure, he calls me Jeremy to my face more often than not these days. But with Izzy…I'm still JJ.

Don't speak in class.

My eyes pop open wide, when comprehension rolls through me, I nearly catapult off the bed, held in place only by my sister.

The song.

My song.

Izzy's snoring softly, and I do my best not to jostle her too much and wake her as I stretch and reach for my phone on the floor. My fingers fumble over it, but I manage to scoop it up and bring it to my chest.

I glance down as Izzy, her eyelids fluttering ever so gently. Breaths puffing out evenly against my shoulder.

Ignoring the dozen missed call notifications when I flip it open, I pull up my messages, finding several back to back texts from Mason.

Mase Face

WRU?

R u ok????

J pls tell me ur ok

My chest tightens with a combination of grief, and something more sinister. Something that has the corners of my lips rising, and warmth shooting through my veins. With one hand, I slowly, quietly, carefully thumb the number pad, typing out my response.

obv im not gonna speak in class. I have social anxiety

A moment passes where I wonder if he'll respond. Maybe he thinks I took it literally?

But then an incoming message appears, and I have to suck in a laugh.

dont speak at all

lips are sealed

I mean it

I know. me too

Promise?

Promise

Closing the phone, I set it next to my leg, and reach for my iPod. Sliding the headphones back up over my ears, I find a different playlist of mine—the one I usually listen to when I'm drawing or torturing myself with peeks of that rippling black void—and I find the song I need.

Just like all those years ago, guitar twang and snare drums explode in my ears, and I find myself grinning up at Saturn as Eddie Vedder starts singing a moment later about being home, and drawing pictures…

Light catches the corner of my eye, and I feel a short vibration against my leg.

Biting my lip, I flip open my phone and click on the new message, my lip twitching and my stomach somersaulting at the words scrolled across the screen.

Gnight jeremy the wicked