Chapter
7:
Can We Try to Erase All the Pain?
Leaning over the
toilet, my head spinning, I tried to focus on staying on my knees until I was
done being sick. I didn't know if that
would happen, though. I kept seeing
Brain's hands covered in Alex's blood . . .
I felt paralyzed
by everything that had just happened.
The school was in a total mess, from what I could make out beyond the
restroom doors. Everyone was getting
evacuated, and some of the kids were flipping out.
"Hey,
Howie?" Brian called quietly.
I was still
crouched in front of the toilet.
"Howie,"
he said more urgently.
It was at that
point I realized all I was doing was dry-heaving and tried to pull myself
together. I left the bathroom stall and
saw Brian at one of the sinks washing his hands off. He stood there in just jeans and tennis
shoes, scrubbing and scrubbing all the way to his elbows. He had wads of paper towels and tons of
soap. The water looked close to
scalding. I squinted. His hands were getting red and raw. I reached over and turned off the faucet.
"No! I gotta get it off!" Brian
objected. I saw panic in his eyes and
knew I had to stay calm.
"Hey," I
said, trying to guide his hands away from the water. "It's all gone, Brian. Look."
I showed Brian his hands.
He looked less
convinced and more agitated with every second, moving on to another sink that I
wasn't guarding.
In no time I was
at his side, my hand on his preventing him from turning on the hottest water
possible. He actually fought me 'til I
grabbed his arms and he figured out I wasn't letting go.
"Howie! Don't!
I gotta get it off!"
I saw his eyes
were bright with tears. Still, with a
hand on his arm, I wiggled out of my shirt and got it on him. It was snowing
out and Brian needed a shirt on. I was
shaking, but I felt hot all over and snow would feel good to me.
"Brian,
listen to me! We gotta go see how Alex
is. Come with me and we'll find Kevin
and Nick and then you can go with me in my car, all right? Trust me!"
Some of the edge
left Brian's gaze and he nodded slowly at me.
Inside, I felt sicker than before watching him try to make one last grab
for the faucet when he thought I wasn't looking.
No amount of
washing would make this go away . . .
***
