The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2 (20 page)

“Fishing?” I asked with a smirk. “Like, what bobber to use and how to cut bait?”

“No, smart aleck. I’m supposed to discuss how fishing has changed over the last twenty years and how it’s affecting the planet.”

“Oh.” I crossed my legs on the couch. “That sounds like a cool thing to learn.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat.” He leaned forward, showing me a chart of Atlantic Sea Cod population over the years. There was a sharp incline near 1960, then it dropped abruptly and was nearly nonexistent from 1990 to the present day. “Like with these fish,” Chase said, “you can’t even catch enough to fill your boat nowadays. They just don’t show up during the fishing season anymore. It’s like they
disappeared
. It’s insane.” He looked up at me. “But you know what’s even more insane? The fact that I have to write a two-page paper on this.”

“Give me that,” I ordered, grabbing his book. I leafed through the pages. It was a lot of reading. It seemed interesting, though. “Did you read this entire chapter?”

“Of course I did. I’m trying to get a good grade, remember?”

“OK, so what else did the chapter say?”

“That every ecosystem is delicate.”

I rolled my eyes. “Duh. You’re going to need more than that.”

“Hey! Just let my brain get warmed up here.” He looked around. “Couldn’t we get some music or something? I think better with music.”

“Sure.” I ran upstairs to grab my mp3 player, then came back down and hooked it up to the stereo. The Black Keys started playing a fast, thumping tune.

“Yeah,” Chase said, nodding his head. “I can dig this.”

“Just focus on the fish.”

Chase smiled and looked up at the ceiling. “Um … There was something about jellyfish … sometimes, jellyfish benefit from overfishing.”

“How?”

“Because … uh … certain types of fish are natural predators. If you get rid of too many of them, the jellyfish population explodes. Then you have tons of jellyfish, and the entire ecosystem falls out of balance. The jellyfish prey on smaller fish, and so they start totally throwing everything out of whack, and then the ecosystem gets even more screwed up.”

“Bummer. I hate jellyfish.”

“Me too. They sting like the dickens.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we go on vacation to Florida sometimes.”

“So do we!” I exclaimed. Calm yourself, Alice. I cleared my throat, blushing. “Where do you go?” I asked nonchalantly.

He shrugged. “Usually Siesta Key. It’s quiet and the beaches are nice. Good waves sometimes, too. I always liked boogie boarding.”

“Oh. That’s cool.” I
totally
loved boogie boarding.

“But anyway, look at this figure here.” He spun the book around so I could look at the little table in the corner of the page. “This says that as of 2011, close to 25 percent of fish stocks are either overexploited or depleted. Worse, a lot of bigger marine animals are being caught in these nets and killed, which means fewer predators in the ocean.”

“That sounds like something to write about. What’s the solution?”

“Solution?”

“Yeah,” I said. “If you’re going to write a good paper, you don’t want to just regurgitate what you read in the book. Give your teacher a solution to show you’re actually
thinking
about the issue. That’s how you get an A.”

He nodded, leaning forward. “Crap, Goodenough … you’re a tough one. All right. Solutions … solutions …”

We sat in silence for a moment. Thinking. OK, that’s not totally true. Chase was thinking. I was staring at his hint of chin stubble and imagining what it would feel like rubbing up against my cheek.

Hey.
I
wasn’t the one with a paper to write.

The front door opened. I peered around Chase’s shoulder, my hand instinctively reaching for my pen—usually, when my parents worked late on advertising projects, they worked really late. Maybe they didn’t trust me, though. Or maybe it was a Corrupted who just thought he’d stop by for a visit and a snack.

Seth appeared, sweaty and disheveled. His red Metallica t-shirt had a big mud stain and he was wearing an old pair of green shorts—what he liked to call his “lounging shorts” for when he sat around his house and played video games.

“Well, it happened,” he said. “It finally happened.” He looked down at Chase, as if he hadn’t even noticed him until that very moment. “Oh. Uh … what’s the baseball player doing here?”

Chase smiled, wheeling around the couch. “I’m studying. Weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah …” Seth cocked his head, taking a closer look at me. “
Weird
is the word I would use, for sure …”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Oh nothing. Just finally got dumped by Trish is all.” He walked over and plopped onto the couch beside me. I could tell with one look at his glossy, bloodshot eyes that he’d been crying. I bit my lip, saying nothing.

“Were you
crying
?” Chase asked.

I shot him a dirty look.

“Yup,” Seth answered nonchalantly. His hand fiddled with the black TV remote. “Like a little girl. All afternoon, pretty much. Didn’t even go in to work.”

I put a hand on his back. “It’s her loss.”

Seth snorted.

“Really,” I said, trying not to let my voice choke up. Seth and Trish! It was now just hitting me. These were my two best friends. This was the relationship that always seemed a little rocky, but always felt so comfortable, too. Like, they just
enjoyed
fighting from time to time but they would always be OK. I guess in retrospect that sounds a little crazy.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Seth said quietly. “I really loved her. For real.”

“You’re going to buck up,” Chase stated. “And you’re going to move on. Because you’re tough and you’re going to find someone else.”

Seth half-grunted, half-laughed. “I don’t know about that. I’m not a cool kid like you.”

“Well you know what? Being a cool kid doesn’t help with love. And being cool doesn’t make it hurt any less, either. Look at me. My girlfriend dumped me, too. You don’t see me moping around.”

I studied his frown, his tightened expression. I turned to Seth, who was staring blankly at the remote in his hand. Yup. Two incredibly bummed-out boys.

“We need ice cream,” I declared. “Lots and lots of ice cream. I’ll get the bowls.”

And so we dined. Cookie dough ice cream, more cookie dough ice cream, a good old-fashioned round of reassurances that being single was waaaaay better than being in a relationship, and of course just a little more ice cream because, hey, you can’t put a nearly empty container back in the freezer anyway. That’s a rule.

You know what was strange about it? We all got along really well. We laughed at each other’s jokes. We told stories about middle school—I have no idea how we ended up on that topic, but believe me I had more than a few interesting stories to share myself. Like the time I knocked out a classmate’s tooth with a snowball. Chase’s best story was when he turned fourteen, it was a tradition in his circle of friends to pee somewhere weird … so he peed on a fire hydrant at recess and totally got busted. Seth ended up in the auditorium alone after exploring the theater department’s massive storage closet. The doors were locked before he could get out and he stayed there, terrified, for three hours until the janitor popped in.

“I can’t believe you never told me that!” I said, laughing. Chase was laughing too, his face flushed and his hair disheveled.

“I never told anybody!” Seth exclaimed. “I was locked in a dark room with a mannequin dressed like King Lear. I thought it would murder me! Then my stomach started to growl and I wondered if I could survive on grease paint until tryouts for the spring play rolled around! I still have nightmares about it!”

We all laughed even harder.

I could tell talking brought some relief. It even brought a little relief to me, too. I think I had enough going on to warrant some stress, and seeing the way Chase fit in with me and Seth just seemed, well,
cool
. Not “cool” like the popular kids at school who wasted their time partying all weekend, either. I mean “cool” in the old-fashioned way:
good
. Or, in the words of the ever-cool Clyde:
radical
.

An hour passed. We ate more food and turned on one of the
Lord of the Rings
movies that my dad owned. I stuffed myself on broccoli and Chase and Seth snarfed down vanilla wafers. We engaged in an insane conversation.

“OK, if you were in Middle-Earth, what kind of weapon would you use?” Chase asked.

“Sword,” I answered.

“Bow and arrow,” Seth said, almost at the same time.

Chase blinked, obviously surprised at how quickly we answered.

“What about you?” I asked.

He shrugged, popping a wafer in his mouth and wiping his hands clean. “I’d pick the axe. Or, as the dwarves call it, the
baruk
.”

Seth nodded approvingly. “Axes are tough to wield. You’d be better off picking something that works well on a horse.”

Chase looked down at his wheelchair. “Oh, right. So what would you recommend?”

“A jousting lance,” I offered. My eyes widened. “Or one of those crazy maces that hang from the chain! You could swing those pretty well.”

“Let’s stick with the lance. But we’ll make it temporary. Once I can walk again, I want an axe.” Chase tossed his last wafer to Seth, then wheeled himself down the hall. He came back a moment later. “The bathroom says
out of order
.”

“Out of order?” The explanation hit me and I snapped my fingers. “That’s right: my dad’s screwing around with the plumbing. Crap! The only bathroom is upstairs. I’m so sorry, Chase.”

“That’s fine,” Chase said, wheeling himself to the base of the staircase. He locked the wheels. “Just help me off this thing.”

Seth and I walked over, grabbing him under his arms. “What are we doing?” Seth asked. “I can’t carry you up there. I have sensitive muscles.”

“Just set me on the bottom step,” Chase said. “That’s all I need.”

We lifted him up, both of us groaning comically. As we set him on the step, he tugged at his jeans to straighten out his legs. They responded to his commands in a lazy, sluggish sort of way, as if they’d both fallen asleep. It seemed much more serious than he was letting on.

“Watch,” Chase said. He pressed his hands on the next stair, then lifted himself up. He did it again. “See? All you need is good upper body strength. Which I have.”

Seth asked the obvious (and embarrassing) question: “Do you … need help up there?”

I felt my entire body cringe. Chase’s face hardened for a second, then he fought it away with a forced smile. “I can manage, thanks.”

I watched him scoot up a few more stairs. Then, realizing I was probably making the whole situation even more uncomfortable then it needed to be, I turned around, grabbing Seth by the arm as I did so. “You’re bringing all the dishes into the kitchen,” I ordered.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you ate the most ice cream.”

“I got dumped!”

“That’s no excuse for gluttony,” I said, sticking out my tongue. We took the dishes into the kitchen. Above us, the ceiling creaked. The telltale sign that someone was in the bathroom.

“I bet it’s rough,” Seth said, rinsing off the spoons under hot water. “A drunk driver makes one stupid decision and now he can’t walk again. Ever. Like, I don’t even know what I’d do.”

“He’ll walk again,” I said. “It’s just going to take time and effort. Like he said.”

Seth grunted. I handed him the bowls one by one. He was staring intently at the water running from the faucet.

“Hey,” I said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll be OK. It just takes time.”

“Right. I’ll just sit in my room till it happens, I guess.” He grabbed another bowl, then closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh man, lunch is going to be awful. I need to switch lunch periods so I’m not around her. They can do that, right? There’s gotta be some kind of ex-boyfriend clause in the Student Handbook, right?”

“I have no idea.”

His eyes examined me for a moment. “What’s up?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Not much. Why?”

“You look nice … more like the old Alice. Relaxed. You haven’t looked relaxed all summer. What’s going on?”

Oh nothing. Just, you know, dressing up for a boy who’d never notice anyway and looking forward to sneaking down to the lake so I can steal a wish from a magic fish and finally end this whole hero business. “I’ll tell you later, OK?”

He rolled his eyes. “Classic Goodenough, always with the teases. You should host a radio show. Your trademark line could be
after the commercial break
.”

The ceiling creaked above us. We both looked up. “Do you think I should check on him?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t.” He grabbed another bowl. “Probably embarrassing enough as it is. Doesn’t help that he was an athlete before the accident. Having a girl help him pull up his pants is
probably
the last thing in the world he wants.”