[even later] November 6th: There are No Ditches

I would have been content to sleep on the couch that night if it meant not having to see my sisters till morning. But I knew that wouldn’t work, because Mom and Dad would surely return through the back door and see me in the living room. So I knew my only real option was to go up to my bedroom, even if it meant passing through the family room, where both of my sisters sat. Hopefully if I kept my head turned, they wouldn’t notice the blood.

I had no such luck. The second I set foot into the room, April jumped up and ran to me. Lily was close behind. "Oh my God," Lily breathed. "Your nose!" April gasped. Both of them forgot their argument then and fussed over me, running back and forth from the kitchen with wet rags and bandages. I sighed, staring at my feet, as my hopes of a quiet escape lay dead on the ground.

When they felt I was sufficiently adorned with bandages, the girls sat me down on the couch and settled into the chairs on either side. "So," Lily began, "what happened?"

I thought of telling the truth, about how Peter had come to the door angry over my talking to Ashley after he told me not to, about how he dragged me outside and beat me up in what could never be called a fight because a fight implies some sort of resistance, about how I suddenly understood how it was possible to feel pure hatred for someone you hardly knew. And then I thought sanely, and realized I could never be honest with my sisters about the night’s events. They would track Pete down and savagely kill him. And as much as I hated the guy, I didn’t want to get Lily and April too passionate about hurting him – I didn’t want to see either of them hurt, or in trouble with the law.

So in the end, I told some lame story about how Peter and I had been taking a walk and I’d he’d fallen, taking me down with him. We’d rolled into a ditch, so I was bruised all over, and somewhere along the line I’d hit my nose pretty badly on a rock. When I’d finally reoriented myself after the fall, Pete had been nowhere to be found. April was ready to believe it, which I hadn’t expected from her. She’s usually level-headed and perceptive enough to know when I’m telling an outrageous lie. Lily looked doubtful and suggested we call Pete’s parents.

"No," I protested, "it’s fine. His dad was waiting around the block from our house, he said. I bet he found the car and left."

"Why did he leave you down for the count, though?" Lily mused. She still didn’t sound like she was buying it. "What kind of friend is this guy?"

"He’s not really a friend," I said. "More like a friend of a friend. Not a very good friend, either. He just wanted my advice on something. I think he was in a hurry. He had a football practice, I think."

A still dubious Lily shrugged. "Well, go up to bed before Mom and Dad get home. They’d kill the two of us for letting you get hurt. You’re fine, right? No internal bleeding?"

"No, I’m fine, I promise," I said earnestly before I figured out that Lily was joking. I mentally kicked myself. Way to look okay, York. "I think I will head up to bed. I’m tired."

Without a protest, I went up to my room and shut the door behind me. I flopped onto my bed. I knew it was only a matter of time before Lily found a hole in my story, but I couldn’t worry about that until it happened.


I stumbled into homeroom with a splitting headache and collapsed at a desk. Gray looked up from his morning paper, sitting at his desk across the room, and grinned at me. "Rough night?" he called.

I grunted in response. If only he knew.

I was almost asleep when a panting figure burst through the door. "Colin, we have to talk," Ashley gasped.

"I don’t want to talk to you," I mumbled. Not only because I was tired, or sullen, but also because my lip was swollen from the kick in the face last night.

"Corin, Ashes thinks you’re very beautiful too, and she wants to live happily ever after, but she can’t. Because the big burly nickelback who wouldn’t hurt a fly doesn’t hurt flies, he hurts people, and he hurt Corin last night and Ashes is sorry, she’s so sorry." She was sobbing, gasping for breath, but she didn’t pause. "Corin, Ashes hates this man, Ashes wants to get away from him, but he loves her, can Corin understand that? He loves her, and she loves him, and she just can’t up and leave, he’d kill her, he’d kill Ardith, and Ashes... She can’t do that."

Her jaw was trembling, her expression desperate. I knew she needed me to understand. I knew she needed me to say that it would be okay, I understood she couldn’t leave him. But to hear her say those words, to hear her say that she thought I was beautiful but she couldn’t leave Peter because he would kill her little sister... It was heartbreaking. And with a broken heart, as well as bruised ribs and a swollen lip, I wasn’t sure I could be the person she needed me to be.

"Corin thinks he gets it," I responded, even if I didn’t think I got it at all. "Corin doesn’t want Ardith or Ashes to get hurt. But Corin wants Ashes to be happy, and it hurts him to see her with this other guy who doesn’t treat her how he should."

She grinned hugely and wrapped her arms around me. My body screamed in pain at the pressure but I said nothing except a tiny whisper of, "I want you to live happily ever after, Ashes."

Ashley pulled back and looked at me. "I will," she promised with a weak, sad smile. "We both will. It’ll just take time."

She turned and walked away, leaving me to rest.


It seemed I saw Peter everywhere I turned that day. When I walked down the hallway, he was either in front of me or behind me. When I stood in line for lunch, he was somewhere on the line with me. When I ran to my locker to get a book just before sixth period, he was standing down the nearly empty hallway, staring at me.

I felt like nothing I could do would be private. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t talking to her, maybe. Or maybe he just wanted me to know that he was watching, waiting for me to slip up. So I was on my "best behavior" all day, tip-toeing around him and obeying all his demands.

When I finally arrived home that day, it was a relief to be away from him. His car had followed mine the whole way, even when I turned onto my own street. When I stopped the car and got out, he waited at the end of the block, just out of the way enough that noone would think he’d was watching me. Despite the distance between us, I ran the length from the car door to the back door of the house. As soon as I was inside, I locked it behind me.

My parents were sitting on the couch, heads close together, talking. When I came in they looked up guiltily, but all privacy was forgotten when they saw my face.

"What happened to you?" Mom gasped. I shrugged, not wanting to give my explanation again. I went into the kitchen and dug through the refrigerator. Eventually I unearthed an orange from the produce drawer. I grabbed a napkin and a plastic knife and started up to my room.

"Wait just a second," my mother beckoned. I turned impatiently in the doorway to the family room, praying that if she asked for my story I wouldn’t screw it up.

But alas, she decided not to make me suffer. "Never mind, Colin." I turned to go, but she cleared her throat, and I spun around again. "If you ever want to let us know, we’ll be around," she said after a moment, then turned to look at Dad again.

I ran into the family room and bolted up the stairs. Once safe inside my room, I sat on the floor, back against the bed, and waited.

Lily didn’t disappoint me. She walked in, breathless, two minutes later. "There aren’t any ditches in this neighborhood," she accused.

I played the fool. "Huh?"

"I said, there are no ditches in this neighborhood," she said angrily. "You said last night you fell in a ditch." She had her hands on her hips, needle marks fully visible on her forearms. Her black hair, with its newly dyed roots, hung in her face. "What’s going on, Colin?" she asked finally, sitting down with her back to the door.

So I told her the truth. Not the whole truth – I didn’t tell her that Peter beat on Ashley, because that would have been too much. I just told her that I’d gotten into a fight with Peter over a girl, and he’d ended up kicking my ass.

She nodded when I was finished. "I thought you’d been fighting," she said. Then she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "But there’s something else, Colin. You wouldn’t have lied to us if it were that simple."

I was angry now. Not angry that she was questioning me, or even angry at her. I was angry with myself for coming up with two bad stories. But I focused that anger on her, letting the heat and passion that had been dead in me for so long now rise to the surface. "There’s nothing else, dammit!" I shouted. "I told you the truth, now get out of my face! Do you think I’m proud of having a stupid fight, Lily? Do you think I’m any more proud of that than you are of your drug habit? Fuck no!" I knew I’d taken a cheap shot by bringing up her heroin, but I couldn’t help myself. These days she was such a vulnerable target. "Get out of here Lily," I said finally, my tone disgusted. But it wasn’t her I was disgusted with. It was myself.

She rose and left the room silently, closing the door behind her. Just when I thought she was gone, she opened the door again, quietly.

"Quit lying to me, Colin," she said softly, and then she left again.

I cried acidic tears and pulled my knees to my chest. Then slowly, carefully, I began to peel my orange.


Noone felt like eating a family meal that night, so for the first time in York history, none of us showed up. We headed sporadically to the kitchen, each grabbing something to eat and taking it to another room of the house. I ate early, because I had soccer at six. So it was no surprise when I returned home from practice and found Lily at the table. It was around eight thirty.

I said nothing as I passed her and walked into the living room. I heard her rise, scraping back her chair, and her footsteps followed me. She took a seat on the couch and I could see her staring at me as I flicked on the TV.

"Aren’t you going to take a shower? You stink something awful." It was an attempt at humor, but I wasn’t particularly amused. Practice had left me sore, and my day had left me sorer, so I wasn’t in a mood for Lily’s jabs at comedy.

I shook my head. "I’ll take one later," I muttered. I channel-surfed in silence for a few minutes, listening to Lily chomp on dry granola a few feet away. I had never realized before just how loud the chewing of dry granola can be.

"I don’t want to go to detox," she said finally. I looked up, surprised. I hadn’t thought she would say anything that didn’t involve our argument. Maybe I had underestimated Lily. Maybe she wasn’t such an awful person.

I flicked off the TV. "I don’t want you to go, either," I said, playing with the fabric on the arm of the chair.

Lily watched my fingers. "I mean, I’m getting better about it all on my own. Just being here makes me better. Being with you and April and Mom and Dad makes me better. I’m only shooting up twice a day anymore." She made it sound like a huge accomplishment. Suddenly I felt sick to my stomach, and I didn’t want to know how many times a day she’d used to poison herself before she came home.

"You think you’ll get clean there?" I asked. I think the question had been sitting on all of our minds for awhile. I might as well be the one to ask it.

Lily shrugged. "I hope so. I miss not needing it. But withdrawals, they’re awful. I don’t know if I can do it, Colin," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I don’t know if I can make it that far."

I didn’t know if she could, either. But I didn’t say so. In fact, I didn’t say anything. I just flicked the television set back on, pretending that I couldn’t see the hurt on my sister’s face.