Upstander by James Preller (free ereaders .TXT) 📕

“They took out these paddles attached to wires like you see on doctor shows, and pulled up Vivvy’s shirt.”

“Defibrillators,” my mother said.

Jonny nodded, yes, yes, that was the word. He leaned back in his chair, his face filled with something new, a kind of glow. “And this time it worked, and I could see everybody sort of relax, they could breathe, you know, and it didn’t matter if they were cops or librarians or paramedics or people like me, we were all together on the grass. After a little while they carried Vivvy on a stretcher into the ambulance and took her away. I asked to ride with her, but they were like, ‘No, sir, no, not happening.’ They promised me she’d be okay.”

“Thank God,” Mrs. O’Malley said.

“That lady, from the library—”

“Mrs. deGrom,” Mary’s mother said. “She’s the head children’s librarian. She’s been at the library forever. You might remember her, Mary.”

Mary could picture the woman’s face from story hour and other programs geared toward young readers. Brown hair parted on the side, flecks of gray. Always wore big necklaces and colorful, dangly earrings. She didn’t look like someone who’d be a hero.

Maybe heroes didn’t have a look.

“I read about something like this,” Ernesto offered, still running a hand down his wispy beard. It looked so tuggable to Mary, like a billy goat’s. Ernesto said, “More and more public libraries are keeping a supply of Narcan on hand, just in case. One librarian in the article said she used to worry about overdue books, now it’s overdoses.”

“Times change,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “Not always for the better.”

Jonny listened politely. “She drove me to the hospital. That was nice of her. And then, I guess, she called you.”

Mrs. O’Malley nodded, smiled at Ernesto. “I don’t know how many red lights we ran getting there. Do you remember what you told us, Jonny, sitting in the waiting room?”

Jonny swallowed. He remembered. “I said, ‘I’m ready, Mom. I don’t want to live like this anymore.’”

Mrs. O’Malley tilted her head back, eyes closed, turned her neck from side to side. Mary could actually hear the grinding of the bones of her spine. She leaned forward, placed her two open palms on the table, reaching toward her only son, and asked, “Is it still true today? Are you ready to go to rehab and give it everything you’ve got?”

36[never]

Jonny answered in a soft, clear, vulnerable voice: “I’m ready, Mom. I’m ready.”

Mary was happy to hear those words. It felt like a winter wren had wriggled free from her heart, and a feathery hopefulness filled her chest. Her mother, on the other hand, did not show any joy. She simply nodded with a serious expression. No smile. “Then I think we need to act right away. I don’t want to wait, Jonny. I’ll need to make some calls. I have a few contacts. Finding a bed, and a place that accepts at least partial insurance, won’t be easy.”

She rose to her feet, ready to get started.

“What about Vivvy?” he asked. “I love her, Mom. She’s my soul mate.”

“Oh, Jonny,” Mary said, the words passed her lips before she could stop them. “You can’t.”

He scowled at his sister. “They released her already. She’s back home.”

“Is that true?” Mary asked her mother.

“That’s the way it works,” Mary’s mother replied. “Some of these kids are back using that very same day. The system can’t hold them.”

Jonny hung his head and his shoulders heaved. “I don’t know if she’s using or not.”

“You can’t wait for her,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “I know how much that hurts. I know you both care about each other. But Vivvy almost died last night. And it very easily could have been you.”

Jonny never raised his head. “I know, I know.” He shivered, rubbed his eyes. “It made me think of Dad.”

“Oh?” Mrs. O’Malley said.

“Watching Vivvy’s life drift away, it felt like Dad—just another thing I used to love slipping through my fingers.”

Mary imagined the string of a helium balloon running across a child’s outstretched fingers until it was gone from reach. Off into the sky, the wild blue. She rose and went over to Jonny and wrapped her arms around him. She felt his body vibrate in her embrace, heart beating fast like a frightened rabbit’s, a boy full of trembling sorrow. This was hard for him, too. Hardest for him, most of all. She didn’t know what to say. No words could express what she was feeling. Instead, Mary just squeezed.

Eventually, Ernesto went into the living room, flicked on the television to a soccer game. Jonny followed him, stretched out on the couch, half watching while checking his phone, a fleece blanket pulled over the length of his body. Mrs. O’Malley shut herself away in the home office, making phone calls and occasionally letting out a groan of frustration that filtered through the closed door.

Mary remembered that she had a science test the next day. She went up to her room to study. She sat in front of a video review session on the computer, but her mind raced to distant galaxies. Oh well. It was only school.

Over dinner, Mrs. O’Malley announced that she had secured a bed for Jonny in a rehab center in Minnesota. “I booked two plane tickets. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Ernesto raised his eyebrows. “You two going to be all right?”

Mrs. O’Malley glanced at Jonny. Her eyes went back to Ernesto. She smiled. “If you drive us to the airport.”

Jonny took the news without emotion. He seemed withdrawn, sullen. Skipping dessert, he went up to his room, acting neither happy nor sad. More resolute than anything. But pensive, also. It struck Mary that it was something he had in common with Eric, that deep-feeling quality. Tomorrow, Jonny had to face the biggest challenge of his life. And like a boxer before a fight, or Jesus before his arrest in the garden, Jonny wanted time to be alone to bargain with his fate. He said, “’Night,”