Ch. 20

Things are back to being tense. Whatever ground I made with Tom was completely lost by refusing to room with him on the Thursday that shall live in infamy, and quite honestly, I don't know why. School on Monday was awkward, especially since we all had to work on a group report about our trip. At the library, Tom refused the empty seat next to me, instead choosing to sit with Nicole and Jen. I honestly don't know what to do.

As April starts to wane we have meetings again with Guidance, especially those of us needing the credits from Beyond the Building to graduate, and they are taking us out one by one over the next few days. I know credit wise I should be fine, but the community service hours could be an issue. Also, we need to start selling our plants from the greenhouse which are now pretty much ready to go. There are small tomatoes and peppers on the plants, the flowers are blooming, and the herbs are...herbaceous? Actually, that means flowering, but whatever.

"Uh, seeing as the planting season has begun, we need to start emptying the greenhouse," I suggest to Mr. Sway at the end of class.

"You're totally correct. How do you think we should do that?" he asks, looking up from his grading.

"Uh, well, obviously we should sell some here at school, but is there any way we could try reaching a larger market? We really do have a lot of plants."

"What do you suggest?" I feel like he's testing me or something.

"How about a farm stand type thing? We could maybe advertise a bit then sell stuff at the side of the road," I don't know if it's allowed, but I don't want plants to just sit around and rot while we wait for staff and students to buy them.

"Sounds like a great idea. I guess you and Tom will have to figure it out," he says with a wry smile.

I get the double meaning, I totally do, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. "Great," I give him a sarcastic smile in response. "I'll just discuss it with him in the morning, then."

"Perfect." That word totally makes me flinch because I know I'm not.

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"Tom, you and Justin need to go to the greenhouse and figure things out," Ms. Francis says, and I can feel myself shrinking into my seat as people turn to look, "about the plant sale," she continues and the room feels really warm.

"Let's go, 95," Tom growls in my direction, obviously furious about being forced to talk to me since it's been about two weeks. I get up and follow him out.

The anger is whipping off him in waves that I can almost see as we make our way silently to the greenhouse. It seems this is to be the location of our worst showdowns I guess.

Tom slams the door open and I walk in after him, closing the door gently. I don't know what to say exactly.

I decide to start with the task at hand. "Uh, we're supposed to figure out what to do with the plants..." I wave at the rows of vegetation.

"No shit, Sherlock," Tom folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the sink.

"I thought we could sell them easier if we maybe did a farm stand?" My voice is weak and wavering, like I'm waiting for the attack to come.

"Great. What do you need me for? After all, I can't help with anything," he says snidely.

"What?"

"You. You've seen me almost drown, you know all my secrets, you used me in your fucking essay, but when you need help you tell me to fuck off."

"I...I've never told you to fuck off. I didn't use you. I don't know what you mean..." I fumble, confused.

"You don't think I was worried? As soon as we got to the motel I was the one who noticed you were missing. I was the one who sent them after you right away. I was the one who wanted to share a room with you so I could take care of you. But as much as you admire me, I guess I'm just not good enough."

"What?" I'm taken aback.

"You didn't want me, you don't want me."

"I was mortified, exhausted and completely done. No one else fell off their bikes. Just me. It's not that I didn't want you or don't—"

He cuts me off, "I wanted to help you. Just like you helped me. I wanted to make you feel better. I wanted to be able to do something."

"I didn't want to look stupid in front of you. You're so fucking strong and I'm just not. And you thought I was perfect, and I'm just not. I didn't want you to..."

"To what? See you as you really are? No one is perfect, Justin. I know that. I just thought you were perfect for me."

His words crush me, tear me to pieces, but I am not going to fall apart now. I am determined. "I still think you're amazing and I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight and I was scared to look any weaker than I already am in front of the strongest person I know." I take a deep breath, blink hard, then repeat, "I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't do it to hurt you."

Tom shakes his head, "For someone so smart, you really are an idiot."

"I know." I nod in agreement.

"Now, what about a farm stand?"

He may not be totally ready to forgive me, but at least he's willing to work with me again, so I explain my idea. We spend the next half hour figuring out the logistics of what we need to do to sell our plants.

After inventorying everything that's saleable, we realize that we'll need to make another visit to Mr. Mac to get permission to sell our plants. If we do actually get permission to sell plants on the weekend then I can also get any remaining community service hours I might need and Tom has a reason to be out of the group home on the weekend, too. It's a win-win. Thankfully, Mr. Mac thinks so, too.

"What kind of stand are you looking for?" he asks as we stand in his office.

"Just a wheeled cart, like they have in the tech wing. Hopefully they'll lend it to us, then we can just roll the plants back into the shop compound after each day," I explain.

"Sounds good, boys, but you'd better get making signs and stuff."

"Can we also have permission to put it in the announcements?" Tom asks, and I'm almost kicking myself that I didn't think of that.

"Sure. You just need to run it by student council."

Awesome, more visits with Lauren. "Great, thanks, sir. We'll get right on it," Tom states, cheerily, dragging me out of the office.

"Really? Again with Lauren?" I complain.

"Come on, 95. You keep coming up with all these 'great' ideas, what did you expect?" he actually air quotes when saying great, and I know I detect a note of sarcasm.

"I don't know. Obviously I have a problem thinking through the consequences of my actions."

"No kidding," he deadpans. "At least when it comes to school work, anyway." And I totally get the less than subtle dig at my chickenshit behaviour about telling my mom.

"I'm going to tell her, you know. It's just...well, she just got engaged and things are..." I trail off. I shouldn't be offering any excuses.

"You should just let her read the essay you wrote. You wrote great stuff about her, too. Have you ever told her that you think she's brave—that you admire her bravery?"

"We don't really have that kind of relationship."

"I don't think you have to. Any parent would be proud to read what you wrote, especially since she's worked so hard to raise such a great person." He nudges my shoulder with his, sending me careening into a locker. Not hard, I just wasn't expecting it.

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My meeting with guidance goes well. Apparently my grades for the semester have never been better, I have great recommendations from Ms. Francis and Mr. Sway, and all my volunteer hours have been met even though there's still two months left in the semester. I should hopefully be hearing back from some schools any day now, although I only applied to three. It costs extra to apply to any more than that, and the application process is expensive enough.

"So, any news?" Kyle asks as I slide into my seat next to him.

"Nope, nothing yet. You?"

"I got into welding and tool and die at the college. I still need to hear back from a few other places." He has a grin and I know he's proud. If he goes to college, he'll be the first in his family to go past high school.

"That's great! What do you want to do?"

"I'm not really sure, but hopefully I'll figure it out when I hear from the other programs. I have another month or so to decide."

At lunch, Tom returns from his guidance appointment. As he tosses his tray on the table, I can tell he's pretty pleased. Before I can say anything, Nicole cuts in.

"Good meeting?"

"Yeah, not bad. I've got my choice of two schools and both are far enough from here I can move into a dorm. What about you?"

"I'm going to study nursing I think. Lots of money in caring for the elderly. What's your program?"

"Social work, I think."

I process this information and resolve to figure out what schools Tom is considering and if they are the same ones I applied to. There can't be that many schools with good social work programs. I know I should just ask him, or even get someone else to ask him, but quite frankly, I'm an idiot.

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What the hell? My mom's home, and that almost never happens.

"Hey, Mom, are you okay?" I mean, I'm pretty sure she's obviously not, judging by the retching sounds coming from the bathroom. I grab her a big glass of water and go to the door.

"Sorry, Honey, I had to leave work. I think I must have caught something." She wipes her mouth with some toilet paper, then takes the offered glass, drinking it down. Her face is pale and she looks pretty clammy.

"Can I do anything for you?" I offer her my hand and help her to her feet. "Toast or anything?"

"No, I'll be okay. Thanks though, honey." And she starts to gag again, so I am so out of there.