When (v5) - Rebecca Stead

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said quickly. “He—” But I didn’t know what to say. Because it was kind of his fault. Marcus didn’t mean for any of it to happen, but if he hadn’t run after Sal, and Sal hadn’t run into the street, wouldn’t you still be alive?

The dentist was staring at us. “On second thought, it might be better not to talk,” he said, nodding at the door.

Time crawled. The police waited, knocked, waited again, talked into their walkie-talkies, knocked again, disappeared, came back, knocked again, and then started calling out things like: “He better be in there when this door opens, doc.”

And the dentist called his own stuff through the door, about anesthesia and paste-drying time, and only having two hands. It didn’t make a lot of sense.

Marcus stared at the floor, which I’d just noticed was tiled with tiny white hexagons like the ones in our bathroom at home. My brain sorted the hexagons into the usual shapes and flowers. It was weirdly comforting.

Then, very quietly, Marcus said something. “I have an older brother. Anthony.”

I looked over at him.

“I want you to know why I hit your friend that day—”

“Sal! His name is Sal . God, why don’t you ever remember anyone’s name?”

The dentist shushed us.

Marcus made his voice even lower. “The day before I hit Sal, my brother Anthony said something about another kid’s girl. I think he meant it as a joke. But this guy got Anthony up against this car, and he was hitting him and hitting him….”

I remembered. Sal and I had crossed the street to avoid that fight. Marcus’s brother was the kid who had been trying to get off the hood of the car. Who kept getting knocked down. “I think I saw that,” I said. “Was your brother wearing a hat?”

Marcus nodded. “Yeah. He always wears that hat.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I was leaning in our doorway, watching. Afterward, Anthony said to me, ‘Did you even think about standing up? About helping me?’ He said I was like no brother at all.”

“Those kids are bigger than you,” I said.

Marcus shook his head. “It wasn’t that. I wasn’t afraid. I just didn’t see myself as … part of what was happening. Sometimes I’m thinking about stuff and I walk right past my own building. Those guys don’t see me as one of them. Because I’m not one of them.

“Anthony told me, ‘One day, you’re gonna have to hit someone. And get hit yourself. Then you’ll see. Maybe. Maybe you’ll understand life a little better.’ And I wanted to understand life better. To understand people better. So the next day, I walked over and hit Sal. And then I stood there like an idiot and waited for him to hit me back. But he just bent over and cried, and I didn’t know what to do, so I walked away. And Anthony yelled: ‘What the hell was that?’ And later, at home, he said, ‘What are you hitting short kids for? Don’t you know nothing?’ He said I was hopeless.”

I was trying to think of what to say when Marcus suddenly looked at me with his eyes all wide. “Hey! You were the one holding the poster.”

My mouth fell open. “You just figured that out?”

He nodded. “Interesting poster,” he said. “I’ve always wondered about yawns. I read an article once—”

Then there was a fast clicking sound that I knew: Mom’s heels on a hard floor. I shushed Marcus and pressed my ear to the closed door even though the dentist kept waving me back.

“I’m from the law firm of Able and Stone,” I heard her say. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

“Only if you have the key to this door,” one of the police officers growled.

She kept going. “I’ve spoken with the school secretary. I understand you want to talk to a student by the name of Marcus Heilbroner.”

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Heilbroner, as you certainly know, is a minor. We can use the principal’s office for a few minutes so that you can brief me about whatever allegations have been made. But of course you can’t speak with Mr. Heilbroner himself until his parents have been notified. Would you follow me, please?”

One of the police officers swore, but the other one said, “Might as well. We aren’t getting anything done standing in this hallway.” And they all walked away.

“Thank God.” The dentist let out a long breath. Marcus stood up, but the dentist said, “Sit down. She hasn’t gotten rid of them yet.”

Another fifteen minutes went by while Marcus looked at the floor, the dentist paced, and I stared out the window. Finally we heard Mom coming back down the hall.

“They’re gone,” she called, “open up.” I yanked the door open, and there she was with her hair pulled back, wearing a gray wool skirt and a matching blazer.

I flew at her and grabbed her around her tiny middle, almost knocking her down.

I felt her hand on my head. “Let’s try to figure this mess out. Who wants to talk first?”

Things You Line Up

It turned out that Belle was the one who had reported Marcus to the police. She’d seen the whole thing from her store window and thought that Marcus had chased Sal into the street on purpose. So Mom was able to get things sorted out. She got a statement from Sal, who had to sign it with his left hand because of his cast, and one from me, and one from Belle, and by the following week, the police had dropped the whole thing and Mom had dressed like a grown-up for three days in a row.

“You know, you look darn good in a suit,” Richard told her.

I figured she would give him some kind of lecture, but Mom took his hand and said, “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you, Mr. Perfect.” She looked happy, and it seemed so obvious at that moment that they should get married. But she still hadn’t even given him a key.

And then Mom hung up her suit, and I put all your notes in the box under my bed and didn’t look at them anymore. Annemarie had her birthday party with two cakes, an awful one that Julia and I made for her and a really good one her dad made.

Time passed. Annemarie and Julia helped me install my playground on Main Street, and Julia’s UFO finally got approved by Jay Stringer. I became Alice Evans’s regular bathroom partner—we worked out a secret signal so that she wouldn’t have to do the Mexican hat dance anymore. Marcus and I waved hello to each other, and we sometimes talked a little, except when he didn’t notice I was there, which was about half the time. In early March, we started rehearsing songs for graduation. I kissed Colin a few more times, and I suspected that Jay Stringer was working up the nerve to kiss Annemarie. I don’t think anyone dared to kiss Julia.

Sal’s cast came off and he started playing basketball in the alley again. A couple of times I waved at him from the window, and once he yelled up to say hi and ask if I wanted to check out his three-point shot, which he lined up for about five minutes and then missed. I clapped anyway, and he took a bow.

I tried to forget about the laughing man. I mean, I tried to forget about you. But it didn’t work. There was something left over: the letter I was supposed to write.

This is the story I need you to tell .

Please deliver your letter by hand. You know where to find me .

Trying to forget really doesn’t work. In fact, it’s pretty much the same as remembering. But I tried to forget anyway, and to ignore the fact that I was remembering you all the time.

And then, three weeks ago, Mom’s postcard came from The $20,000 Pyramid .

April 27th: Studio TV-15 . The last proof.

That’s when I officially gave up the forgetting and started doing all this thinking. I have the story laid out in my mind now, as straight as it’s ever going to be.