o 0df2dc86c31d22a8 by Unknown Read Free Book Online

with you, Ducky? You think just because there’s no reason to live a person should want to kill himself?”
    D: “No. I was speaking theoretically — ”
    A: “I mean, that’s the LAST thing I would do!”
    D: “OK, Alex. OK. You just said some stuff that concerned me — ”
    A: “I mean, just because there’s no reason to LIVE, doesn’t mean there’s a reason to DIE!”
    D: “Right. I won’t mention it again.”
    A: “Don’t even THINK about it.”
    Alex flicks on the radio.
    You drive home to the Top 40 countdown.
    Feeling much better.

    * * *
How could you have asked him that, Ducky?
    OK, you feel like you’re attached to him. Like you have to pull the weight of two.
    But cut the guy some slack.
    You’re on solid ground now.
    Monday
    Study Hall
    He wasn’t at his locker this morning. Not at lunch either.
    After lunch you saw Ms. Krueger in the hallway. You turned and went to class the long way.
    You couldn’t face her. You knew she was going to ask how Alex is doing.
    As if you have any idea.
    And Now
    a Word from Our Sponsor:
    YOU.
    Ducky.
    The guy whose name is on the front of this journal. Whose life is supposed to be chronicled faithfully here.
    Forgot about him, huh?
    Forgot to mention you managed to pass the math test last week.
    Congratulations. Thank you.
    As usual, you’re so wrapped up in Alex, you don’t even think of yourself.
    After school today, you give Amalia a ride home, and she’s talking away, mentioning something about Maggie and her new therapist — an that makes you think about Dr. Welsch and your rock-climbing trip and the fact that Alex isn’t in school today, and as you pass the turnoff to his house, you start debating whether you should call him or pay a visit — and suddenly you notice the car is silent.
    “Ducky, are you OK?” Amalia asks.
    “Yup. Fine.”
    “Do you need to talk?”
    You’re so preoccupied, you don’t hear the words right, most specifically the word YOU.
    Somehow you’re hearing HE, meaning Alex, and you reply, “He does, really badly. But I think he’s stopping seeing his therapist.”
    Amalia’s looking at you weirdly. “Not Alex. You.”
    You laugh and say no, not me, not Good Old Ducky, I don’t need to talk. I’m fine. Just have my head in the clouds, that’s all.
    Because what ELSE can you say — I think my best friend is an alcoholic depressive who hates life? No. It wouldn’t be fair to put that on her. And it CERTAINLY wouldn’t be fair to Alex.
    So you chat about nothing and you drop her off and you pretend it’s a hap-hap-happy day.
    It’s not until you’re around the block that you start realizing how good it would feel to talk to Amalia — to anyone — about all this.
    And because you don’t — because you CAN’T — you feel rotten and alone.
    Just the right mood for your shift at Winslow Books.
    On the way to the store, you stop at Alex’s. Paula answers the door and tells you he’s asleep. So you say good-bye and head to the store, feeling relieved that at least he’s THERE, although you can’t imagine where else he’d be.
    Alex Speaks
    You catch him on the phone after dinner:
    A: “What’s up, Ducky?”
    D: “Hi. Nothing. I mean, I didn’t see you today at school and I figured I’d call.”
    A: “Uh-huh.”
    D: “So … I’m calling! Are you OK?”
    A: “As much as I ever am.”
    D: “I thought … maybe you pulled a muscle or something on the climb. MY legs sure are killing me.”
    A: “I’m fine.”
    D: “You’re fine? That’s fine. I’m fine too.” [Great vocabulary, McCrae.]
    A: “Uh, Ducky? You don’t have to do this.”
    D: “What?”
    A: “Check up on me. One mother is enough. Just let me have my space.”
    D: “OK.”
    You’re upbeat. You understand.
    But you want to smack yourself because you’re making Alex SICK of you — and why shouldn’t he be, when you’re hovering over him and questioning his every move — and you realize ONCE
    AGAIN that YOU BETTER WAKE UP, this is