Beyond Vica (2 page)

“Honey, before you leave tonight, make sure you're all packed for your basketball tournament in the morning. You need your ankle brace. Don't forget to fill up your water bottle and put it in the fridge so it's nice and cold for tomorrow.” My mom chirps orders while she flutters around the kitchen preparing dinner.

“I will,” I say. My cat, Sadie, curls her fat, black-velvet body onto the barstool next to mine and lets out a yawn.

I go online and scroll through the social network, and notice that all through Rachel's feed are comments about hanging out at her house tonight. I skim through and stop when I see Brody's picture. He had posted a comment to Rachel saying he may try to make it later, but was hanging out with Sam tonight. There are 20 likes for his comment, and other comments say, “Tell Sam hello,” and, “Thinking about him,” and blah, blah, blah. I wonder if the likes are for the fact that Brody may go to Rachel's later or that he's hanging out with Sam. It ticks me off that people who never spoke to Sam before are acting like they care.

“Whatever,” I murmur. Sadie looks intently at me. “I know, I know. I shouldn't think too much into things. I need to be happy that people ask about Sam. Why does it bother me so much?” She looks away and cleans her butt.

“Gross. A lot of help you are.” I nudge her off the stool.

“Gabriella Martin! Get moving. I'm dropping you off at Sam's in one hour, and I want you ready.” Mom shakes the wooden spoon at me before stirring her pasta sauce.

“Give me a minute.”

Mom lets out an exaggerated breath. Her sandy brown hair is swept up in a bun, making her green eyes stand out. She's an older version of me. Everyone says I look just like her. I take it as a compliment because I always hear how pretty she is. She passed her genes to me in the looks department.

“I need to get to the shop by 7 o'clock. I have a big order for tomorrow and I want to make sure the girls get everything done,” Mom says. She has a flower shop in town. People say she makes the most creative arrangements in all of Dublin, PA. She works long hours but has part-time help in the evenings.

I shut down my tablet. “Okay. Getting ready now.”

****

“She's a goner. Run, stupid, don't just stand there!” I yell at the lady who fills the flat-screen TV on the wall in Sam's bedroom. She stands in a dark room with a stranger lurching toward her.

“‘I think I'll just stand here and scream. It's not working, but I will do it anyway.'” Sam mimics the lady in the movie by putting his hands on both sides of his cheeks. Sam looks much better than he did on Tuesday. The color is back in his face, his eyes twinkle and, best of all, he has a smile on his face. I love seeing him like this. We both laugh and shovel popcorn in our mouths.

“What's up?” Brody walks into Sam's room and the boys greet each other with a fist bump before Brody plops onto the oversized beanbag next to me. “Move over,” he orders with a playful shove. I return the shove with an elbow to his side.

“Ugh,” he groans and helps himself to a handful of popcorn from the bowl cradled in my arm. I shift my body to get my butt back onto the beanbag and throw my legs over his. My light-wash denim is a contrast to his dark jeans. His bronze skin gleams against his fitted white T-shirt outlining the muscles underneath.

We finish watching the movie in that position. My ribs and cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much. I haven't used those muscles too much lately. It feels good, and then it hits me. Things may change and we won't have these moments anymore. The ache inside flares again.

“What's wrong with you, Gabs?” Brody bumps me with his shoulder. He has called me Gabs since we were in third grade.

I put a forced smile on my face. “I think I ate too much popcorn.”

“Is it still warm out? I haven't been outside, but Mom says it's nice.” Sam gazes out his bedroom window. A mix of oranges and pinks are painted across the sky as the sun sets.

“Yes. Do you want to go outside?” Brody jumps up and sends my legs tumbling to the floor.

“My mom won't let me.” His face droops for the first time tonight.

“I know—let's climb out onto the porch roof like we used to. We won't stay out long. Your mom won't know.” I hop up and make my way over to Sam's bedroom window. Sam and Brody are right behind me. I shove the gray-and-white striped curtains aside and thrust the window screen up.

“I'll go first and help you two out.” Brody grabs my shirt sleeve and tugs me out of the way.

“I don't need help,” I protest. I've done this since we were eight years old.

“I don't either.” Sam joins my protest with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears a frown under his black stocking cap.

Brody ignores us and climbs out the window. I am secretly happy that he's out there to help Sam.

“Go ahead, Sam.” I offer so that I can be behind to catch him in case he stumbles.

Sam maneuvers his body amazingly well while climbing out the window. I wasn't sure if he would have the strength. He holds onto Brody until he gets settled on the shingles.

I place both hands onto the window frame and heave my body up and out headfirst. Brody takes my arm while I bring my legs through. The gray shingles feel like a combination of rubber and sandpaper under my hands as I crawl along the roof. I stop when I am next to Sam and sit beside him. Brody settles on the other side of Sam, and the three of us look into the sunset with the spring breeze tickling our faces.

We used to spend many summer evenings on this roof. Sam loves astronomy. He's wanted to be an astronomer ever since I can remember. He'd tell us that each constellation in the sky tells a story. “It is like the heavens are talking to us
,”
he'd say. He's a deep thinker, has always had his nose in stories about Greek myths and other tales of the stars.

I remember the night we snuck out on the roof to identify our made-up constellation in the sky.

“See that bright star?” Sam pointed into the sky. “That is Spica. If you can find that, you can see Virgo.” He then explained how to identify Virgo.

“How did the stars get their names anyway?” I asked, trying to make out the shapes that seemed so easily identifiable to Sam.

“Well, ancient farmers first made up the constellations and stories to go along with the planting seasons.” Sam eagerly relayed the information.

“Let's find our own constellation and make up a story,” Brody said, lying on the roof with his hands behind his head.

“Yeah. That will be tight.” I agreed. Tight was the “in” word at the time.

“I know. Look at Spica. Below it to the left and the right are two bright stars. If you connected them, they would look like an upside-down
v
,” Sam said.

“I see it!” Brody sat up. “Let's name it.”

“
Let's think of a tight name.” I said.

“Spica. Upside-down
v
…What about Vica?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, Vica.” Brody smiled. “We have our own secret constellation.”

“Vica guards the entrance to a secret place that holds all the answers of the universe. Our job is to keep it safe from invaders.” Sam's eyes twinkled as bright as the stars overhead.

“Earth to Gabs.” Brody's voice brings me back to the present. I turn my head to see two faces focused on me.

“What?” I sit up. The air turns cool, and I realize the sky has darkened.

“I want to change our story,” Sam repeats. I apparently didn't hear him the first time he said it.

“Okay. What story?” I ask, bringing my eyebrows together.

“Where have you been, Gabs? Our constellation story, Vica.” Brody chuckles.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I want to change the story now that we are older,” Sam explains. “The three stars in Vica represent three friends that stick together. The friends are mixed with others around them, but aren't broken up. I want to add that the star at the top is the friend who has the support of the other two at the bottom of the constellation. He wouldn't be held up without them.”

A lump creeps up my throat. I swallow hard in an attempt to wash it back down. Brody's eyes are positioned on Sam. Sam gazes at Vica in the sky and continues his story. “No matter what happens, the three friends will never be broken apart. They will be together in Vica. The friend that is held up by the other two will forever be positioned to look out for them from above.”

I'm on my back now with my arm crossed over my face. I bury my face into the crook of my arm trying to keep myself under control. I don't like when people see me cry.

“Are you afraid?” Brody asks in a hushed voice.

“Of dying?” Sam asks. “Not so much anymore. I have accepted it's probably going to happen. I am more afraid of leaving the people I love behind.”

“Have you thought about what happens to us when we die?” Brody whispers.

Something inside me snaps, and I sit up. “Shut up, Brody!” I yell. “Why would you ask him something like that? What is wrong with you?” My body trembles with anger.

Brody eyes widen. Sam breaks in. “It's okay, Gabs. I want to talk about this.”

“Well, I don't!” I roar, jumping to my feet. I attempt to take a gigantic step across both boys and slip. My legs do a horizontal split and I fall backward onto my bottom. My butt hits the edge of the porch roof and I continue my backward motion right off the edge. The hedge below does little to break my fall. I bounce right off it and onto the cold, hard ground. My arm explodes with pain as I land with it underneath me.

I lie on the ER gurney waiting for my X-ray results. The bustle of bodies outside the door and voices through the ER speakers trigger memories of the day I've tried so hard to push out of my mind. The biggest triggers of all are the huge lights that hover over me. They press the rewind button in my mind.

“
The poor little thing. She had his head cradled in her arms when the rescuers got to the car. She kept asking him why he wasn't talking. She said she knew he wasn't sleeping because his eyes were open.” The woman talked in a hushed voice outside the room with the big lights. I squeezed the teddy bear Nurse Denise gave me. She was nice. She let me put a bandage on the teddy in the same place I have one, on my arm.

“Oh my! That's the most heartbreaking thing I've ever heard,” another woman answered.

“I know it. Most of the blood on her is from her dad. Thankfully, she just has minor cuts and some bruises.”

The ER doctor's voice interrupts the memory. “It is definitely broken. We'll put a temporary cast on to allow the swelling to go down. She'll need to see Dr. Bradley in two days for an assessment of the break and to get a new cast,” he says.

My mom nods. “Thank you, doctor.”

The pain medicine the ER nurse gave me earlier takes effect and eases not only some of the throbbing in my arm, but the memories. My eyelids are heavy and my throat is dry. I try to speak, but my lips won't move.

My mom shakes her head. “I'll call your coach. He isn't going to be happy about losing his starting post player for tournaments tomorrow. Honestly, Gabriella. What were you thinking? Not only did you hurt yourself, Sam could've gotten hurt also.” She continues her scolding. Her words float around in the air above me, not sinking in.
Thank you, pain medicine.

****

“Gabs, you're such a dork.” Sam lies next to me in his bed. My arm is propped between us on a pillow with an ice pack. I talked my mom into letting me spend the day with him. I promised not to do anything careless.

“Falling off of a roof makes me clumsy, not a dork,” I say. My black yoga pants and oversized pink T-shirt make perfect lazy-Sunday clothing. I stretch my legs out next to his and ease down farther onto the pillow.

“All right, you're a clumsy dork.” He laughs, shaking the bed.

“What-evvv…” I roll my eyes and change the subject. “Google Eddie's Car Sales. I saw a car there I want for my birthday.” I've had my permit since January, so I can take my driving test as soon as I turn sixteen in June. Not that my mom will buy me my choice of cars, but it doesn't hurt to dream.

“You better not tell Brody you're crossing into enemy territory,” Sam teases. Brody's dad owns the only other car dealership in town besides Eddie's.

“I'm just looking. Don't tell, though.”

“My lips are zipped.” Sam pinches his forefinger and thumb together and runs his fingers across his lips. He pulls the website up on his laptop that now shares the pillow between us.

“That's it,” I point to the red Chevy Camaro with black stripes that pops onto the screen.

“Sweet!” Sam exclaims.

“I know, right? Can you see us riding in that this summer with the top off?” I pretend to drive with my good arm.

“You know your mom will never buy that for you.”

“Thanks, Negative Ned.”

Sam shifts his body to face me, then blurts, “I want to go to the spring dance.”

Where did that come from? I search into his big brown eyes. The spring dance is in three weeks, the middle of April. His goal is to return to school in May and finish the year. But the dance?

“What does the doctor say?” I ask.

“We have to take it a day at a time, my immunity is going to be low, blah, blah, blah.” He flaps his hand open and shut. “I don't care. If I can go to the dance and make it for ten minutes, that is more time than if I don't go at all. I missed out on a lot of things our last year of middle school because of my cancer treatments. I'm tired of missing out.”

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “Well, I never thought of you as the dancing type, but it looks like we're going to the dance.”

A smile spreads across his face. “You going with me?”

“Of course. Somebody's got to show you how to dance.”