Personal Effects by E. M. Kokie Read Free Book Online

map hanging on the wall next to my desk — stretching from just above my head to my knees, the entire length of the Appalachian Trail, with different colors for states and parks, rivers and roads.
    In my head, so much of that five-day hike last spring is a dying fire and darkness and T.J.’s voice. We talked for hours every night, but we didn’t talk about any of the important stuff, nothing that really mattered.
    I was so freaking focused on hiking the Appalachian Trail. That’s all I wanted to talk about, what would happen when he came home, when we could go, how much fun it would be.
    The week after he left, I bought the map.
    In the desk lamp’s spotlight, I can see the holes where the pushpins used to be, a ghost trail marking a trek we’re never going to make.
    I push the lamp so the circle of light doesn’t land on the map.
    My phone plays Shauna’s ringtone. Even without her ringtone, I’d have known it was Shauna; she’s the only person who really gives a shit if I’m OK. Yeah, things have been weird between us, but she hasn’t cut and run yet.
    I barely have the phone to my ear before she launches in: “How long did you have to wait for your dad?”
    “A while. We haven’t been home that long.”
    “Did he go postal?”
    “Naw. Not really.”
    “Suspended?”
    “Yeah. Until next Tuesday.”
    “But just suspended? Good. Then you can still take finals.”
    “Yeah, unfortunately.”
    “Don’t suppose anyone thought to get your head checked out?”
    I laugh. “Sure. Twice. And then Dad took me for ice cream. Tomorrow we’re —”
    “That’s what I thought, so I looked up some stuff online, and then I called Jenna. She was working, and the ER was hectic, but she talked me through the signs of danger.”
    To have called her sister, Shauna must really be worried. They drive each other crazy. But at least Jenna’s one of the sisters who actually likes me.
    “So, here we go. Do you feel . . . ?”
    She’s relentless. Barking questions until I answer them, rattling off warning signs of imminent coma. On the plus side, having something to do calms her down. When I can’t take her fussing another minute, I cut her off.
    “Shaun! Seriously, I’ll be fine.”
    “You could have a concussion,” she says, like I’m a moron, or like I’m not actually attached to my head. “What am I saying! You absolutely have a concussion. Your head bounced off, like, three different hard surfaces, not including people’s fists. How do you know your brain isn’t getting all scrambled right now?”
    “How would we tell?”
    “Matt.” Obviously, humor’s not gonna work. “Be serious. Jenna said that if you have a concussion, you need to be checked every couple of hours. Who’s going to do that? You need to go to the hospital. I can come and get you right now.”
    Fuck. Dad
will
go postal if she comes over here. “The nurse checked me out at school. If she thought I was in any danger, they’d have taken me to the hospital,” I say, hoping she’s buying it.
    When she doesn’t respond, I go for diversion. “And how the hell do you know what my head hit?”
    “Michael,” she says, her voice saying so much more.
    Of course.
    “I could come over and keep watch. Or we could call ahead and Jenna could —”
    “You can’t come over here, and the only place I’m going is to sleep. Call me tomorrow.”
    I don’t hang up fast enough, and she argues some more. She finally gives up, but with a very Shauna-like catch. “OK. Leave your phone on. I’m going to call you every two hours to make sure you haven’t slipped into a coma. And if you don’t answer —”
    “Shaun . . .”
    “Matt,” she mimics back. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming over there. Those are your choices. Hospital now or monitoring by telephone.”
    “Every two hours? I think I’ll chance the coma.”
    We go four more rounds, and then she hangs up halfway through my turn. The debate’s over. She always gets the last