Diary of a Witness (6 page)

At first she said nothing at all. Just shoveled in a few French fries. Then she said, “I suppose you’re right, Max. As usual.” She sounded hurt.

He reached over and put his hand on top of hers on the table. “I know you’re just trying to protect the boy and take care of him. But take care of his insides, too. Just because he survived doesn’t mean he’s okay.”

She nodded.

“Speaking of which,” he said, turning his attention back to me, “how’s your friend Will doing with his insides?”

“Not good,” I said.

My mother looked up suddenly. “You talked to him? When did you talk to him?”

“Just a little bit on the Internet last night. I think we both had trouble sleeping.”

Then the table went quiet again. Just when I wanted it not to. I wanted to talk some more about Will, and how he wasn’t okay. But I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t tell anybody what he’d said to let me know he wasn’t okay. I was sworn to secrecy. So I just sat there and said nothing.

I looked at that big platter of fish in the middle of the
table. All golden brown and steamy. And I thought, Uncle Max did it again. He taught me to see beauty in that fish. It didn’t look like the devil at all to me now. Now that it was beer-battered and fried to perfection, it looked really magnificent.

I took two more pieces.

Uncle Max helped me get the other half of the fish into the freezer. He cut it into serving-size pieces—big servings, our-house servings—and handed each one to me, and I wrapped them in plastic wrap and put them all in a giant ziplock freezer bag.

“Should I leave you with my recipe for beer batter?”

“Uh, no. No thanks, Uncle Max. It was delicious. But I think with the other half I should … you know … bake it or something.” He didn’t say anything, so I felt like I had to. I just had to spit it out. “I’m trying to lose weight.”

When I looked up, he was looking right into my face. He’ll do that sometimes, just look at you for a long time before he says anything. Like he’s trying to work something out. “Good for you, Ernie. My apologies. If I’d known, I’d have fixed lunch some other way.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. It was delicious. Besides, you didn’t know.”

“I’m surprised Lila didn’t tell me.”

“Well. That’s because she …” I just kind of ran out of steam and never finished.

“Because she …,”
he said, trying to lead me to it.

“Doesn’t know.”

He put down the fish fillet and the knife and turned and looked at me full on. I wanted to sink right through the floor. “Why have you not told your mother? Isn’t that pretty key? She can’t support you if she doesn’t know you need support.”

“I know.”

“Why, then?”

I really, really wanted to be somewhere else entirely. I looked down at my shoes. Peaches was down there, staring up at the fish fillets. Licking her lips, like she could eat the good smells. “You remember how my dad was. Always criticizing her.”

“Yeah. So?”

“This would be like criticizing. Like telling her she should do something, too.”

“Nonsense. If you don’t want to be like your dad, don’t criticize her. But tell her what you’ve decided for yourself.”

“I don’t want to make her feel bad about herself.”

“Stop trying to fix the world, Ernie. She makes her decisions, you make yours. She’s a big girl. Let her feelings be her business.
Tell
her.”

He handed me the last two pieces of fish and washed his hands in the sink, and I knew he was going to go. I wished he wouldn’t. But it was a long drive, and he probably had things to do.

I walked him to the door.

“Thanks for driving all this way, Uncle Max.”

“Yeah. Well. You know you’re my favorite nephew.” This is a little running joke we have. I’m an only child, and Uncle Max and my mom don’t have any other brothers or sisters. In other words, I’m his
only
nephew.

A couple of steps out the door he stopped and turned around. “Oh. I know what I forgot to say. Take good care of your friend Will for a while. He needs a lot of attention right now, and he’s probably not getting it at home. Hey. Want to go up to the cabin for Christmas vacation? Just the two of us?”

“I’d love to. But I bet Mom wouldn’t like it. She’ll want me to be home with her on Christmas.”

“I’ll talk to her.” He turned and walked toward his truck again. Then he stopped, snapped his fingers. Turned around. “I almost forgot the most important question.”

“Yes. I wrote it all down in my journal. Almost three hours’ worth.”

He pointed in the general direction of my nose. “Good boy.”

Then he jumped into the truck, and he was gone.

November 25
th

I’ve been bad about writing in my journal. Really bad. It’s been ages. After that big marathon writing thing, where I practically got a hand cramp putting down all the details of the worst twenty-four hours of my life, well … After that I’d look at the thing and really not want to touch it. Kind of like I feel about the leftover lingcod in our freezer. Just doesn’t look all that appetizing.

But stuff has been happening. It’s just sort of quiet stuff. Literally. At first I had no idea what to say about it. But Will kind of cleared it up today. Kind of put words to it and made it real.

He’s been back at school for around six days.

I was really braced, waiting for someone to beat him over the head with it. But instead everybody just got sort of … quiet. I’d walk into a class with him, and whoever was in the room before us would just clam up. The silence got pretty heavy. It was like some kind of radio waves, following us everywhere we went.

The first one of each class was hard, because the teacher always asked him to stay a minute after class. Then he’d stand by their desks looking helpless, and they’d say something meant to be supportive. “I am so, so sorry about what happened to your brother, Will. We’re all holding a good thought for your family.” Some crap like that. Meanwhile, I could feel the waves of misery pouring off him. But there wasn’t much I could do to help. You can put yourself in front of a knife or a gun. For a buddy you just might. But how do you put yourself in front of somebody who thinks they’re being nice?

Why is it so much harder when it’s him getting hurt? That’s harder for me than when they hurt me. Me, I just figure, Hell, I’m tough. I can take it. But having to hurt on his behalf. Man. That’s a tough one.

So I’d just stand there like a dork, ten steps back, like I could dive in and stop the bleeding when it was over. But I couldn’t. That’s the problem. I couldn’t.

We’d just move on to the next class. And the minute we did, more silence. It even happened in the halls. This floating bubble of silence that walked with us. If we slowed
down, so did the silence. It was like something out of science fiction. It’s almost hard to explain.

I do have to say, though, there was one girl who was actually nice. Her name is Kara, and she’s popular. And in spite of that popularity, she actually took the time to treat Will like a human being. To look him right in the eye and say, “It’s terrible what happened, and I’m really sorry.”

But by that time Will was just so numb. I don’t think he realized what a huge thing had just happened.

Neither one of us talked about it. None of it. Not about what happened, and not about what’s been happening since. Not even with each other.

Then, today, we were walking home from school, because the bus is pretty brutal. Will looked over at me, and I knew in my gut he was going to talk about it. I don’t even know how I knew. I just did. I guess I’m getting pretty good at reading silences.

He said, “Remember when people used to talk?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Sometimes not exactly
to
me. But at least they talked
about
me. At least they talked in my presence. It’s like the aliens came and stole all our sound.”

“It’s been weird.”

“I don’t just mean at school. You should try it at my house. My father not only won’t talk to me, he won’t look at me. It’s like I’m not even there. I start to feel like I’m not even there. Hey.”

He stopped walking. It took me a couple of steps to
notice. I turned around, expecting him to catch up with me. But he didn’t. So I walked back to where he was standing.

“Hey what?”

“Maybe I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“There.”

I figured he was kidding. I hoped he was kidding. Hell, I prayed he was kidding. I had to act like I was sure he was. Anything else would be too weird. I reached out and pinched him on the arm. Pretty hard.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing his arm.

“Congratulations. You’re there.”

He just kept standing there with that confused look on his face. “Maybe you’re the only one who sees me.”

“Okay. Okay. You’re seriously freaking me out. You have officially begun to freak me out.”

“You’re the only one who even looks at me.”

“Dude,” I said. “Think what you’re saying. If they didn’t see you come into a room, how would they know to suddenly go all quiet?”

“Maybe they just feel … like … this big, spooky wind blow through.”

“Okay. Freaking out. Please don’t get weird on me. You’re kidding. Right? Please say you’re kidding.”

He looked up at me, and it seemed like the evil curse was suddenly lifted. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m kidding. Of course I am.”

We started to walk again. But I didn’t feel all better. I still felt a little shaken up. Especially when he added one final word. Real quiet. But there it was.

“Mostly.”

I’m really starting to worry about Will.

November 28
th

This morning when I got to the kitchen table my mom wasn’t around. She must’ve been getting ready for work.

I poured myself a bowl of cereal. Put the milk carton out on the table. Then I saw I’d set the carton right on top of something. So I picked it up again. There was a little clipping from the newspaper sitting on the table, and now it was all wet. Which made it harder to read it. But I got most of it.

It said
LOCAL MAN JAILED ON CHILD ENDANGERMENT CHARGES
.

I don’t remember the whole thing word for word, but basically it said that Roger Manson had pleaded guilty and
gone straight to county jail for ninety days, because if he’d gone to a trial, they would have tried to charge him with a lot more than that. Maybe even involuntary manslaughter. It was a plea bargain.

It also said that he’d made things worse by being drunk when the sheriff found him. That made it two different kinds of child endangerment, because even if the fishing trip had come off without a hitch, he was still clearly planning to drive us home in that condition. It said his blood alcohol was almost twice the legal limit. It didn’t say he had almost five hours of drinking left to go. But I knew. Only, maybe he was planning to sober up by then? It didn’t matter. This is how it all came down. If his intentions were any better, the world would never know.

And he was already in jail. Right now. And Will hadn’t said a word. I couldn’t believe it. He never mentioned his dad was in jail right now. Or who was at his house, taking care of him. Or if he was there all alone.

Another good reason to worry about Will.

When I got to school, I found Will at his locker.

“Hey,” I said.

I tried to say it really normal. Like nothing could possibly be wrong. But I guess I failed miserably, because he said, “Yeah, I know, you read the paper. You and everybody else on the planet. So now you know. Apparently this is my fault, too.”

“I never said that!”

“Not you. I know better than to think that about you. I’m talking about my dad. He didn’t say it, either. But I’m not stupid. I can see it on his face.”

We started off walking down the hall together. Leading this long bubble of silence everywhere we walked. Maybe it was my imagination, but it sounded quieter than yesterday’s silence. Is that even possible?

I said, “Is there anybody at home with you?”

“Yeah. My mom.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah. She drove up from L.A. to stay with me for ninety days. And then every weekend her new boyfriend is coming up. Starting tonight.” He sighed. “Life in the Manson family.”

I stopped walking. “Does that feel really bad?” I couldn’t even imagine. “Is that just, like, the most awful thing possible?”

He stopped, too. Looked down at the textbook in his hand. Like he suddenly couldn’t live one more minute without reading the title. “Well, it’s not
good.”
Then he looked up, but not at me. Past me. Over my shoulder. I turned around and saw he was looking at Lisa Muller. Standing by her locker, talking to another girl. “On the other hand, it might be better than these last couple of weeks with my dad.” He never took his eyes off her when he said it. “I really had nowhere to go but up.” His
expression changed, in a weird way. Like he got lighter all of a sudden. “That’s it,” he said.

“That’s what?”

“I’m going to talk to Lisa Muller. I’m going to say something to make her laugh. Right now. This is the day.”

I knew a bad idea when I heard one. “Oh, dude. I don’t know. Not today, okay? You’re sitting in too much crap already. Don’t do anything rash.”

“But that’s just it,” he said. “Don’t you see? That’s why it’s so perfect. I have nowhere to go but up. My life can’t possibly get any worse.”

“Oooh. Don’t say that. Never say that. It’s tempting fate.”

But I wasn’t swaying him. I could tell.

“I’m going in. Cover my back. I mean, stay close. Stay close enough to see her smile. I want a witness.”

I was holding his jacket sleeve. Trying to keep him from his doom. “What are you going to say?”

“I have no idea. I’m trusting fate. The first thing out of my mouth will have to be the right thing.”

“This is a really half-baked plan, Will. I’m begging you. Sleep on this.”

“No, this is it. I have nowhere to go but up.”

He pulled his arm away from me and charged in, and I followed about five steps behind. He came up behind Lisa, so she didn’t even have a chance of seeing him standing there. The girl Lisa was talking to saw him, though, and
pointed. Not in a nice way. More like telling Lisa,
You
deal with this. Lisa turned around.