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Her head darts in my direction and I shift my footing as I have everyone’s undivided attention. I’ve kept this a secret for years. Too many years. Never wanting anyone to think differently of me, to treat me differently, to see me as broken...but I’ve broken Abby and it’s time to break me in return. “I’m diabetic.”
Abby’s forehead wrinkles and Ryan steps into my line of sight. “What do you mean you’re diabetic?”
“I’m diabetic.” I can’t meet his eyes. Can’t stand the wave of sickness crashing through me. “Type 1.”
Ryan’s eyes harden. He’s been my best friend for years. Him pitching. Me catching. Him always depending on me to tell him straight how things are. Me having the guts to tell him what no one else will. But I kept this a secret. I never trusted him to see past the diabetes.
“How long have you known? When did this happen?”
The easy answer would be to lie. To tell him I found out recently, but I’m not lying—not anymore. “Since I was seven.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan yanks down hard on the bill of his cap and turns away from me. Turns away. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”
I meet Abby’s eyes and there’s no longer anger in them, just confusion...just pity. Out of all the times my blood sugar’s been out of control, I’ve never felt as unstable as I do now.
“Because I didn’t want the look you’re giving me.” I nod toward Abby. “The look she’s giving me.”
I snatch my backpack off the floor, go for the door and Isaiah grabs onto my bicep. “Where are you going?”
“Out. I need some air.”
Isaiah’s eyes are blazing. He’s just as pissed as Ryan. I should care more than I do, but seeing Abby pity me—I’m done. “Abby’s here for the week. If one person in this room gives her a ride back to Louisville, type 1 diabetes or not, I’ll kick their ass.”
Abby
My grandmother took me to church once. She lit a candle, got down on her knees and prayed.
Grams wasn’t a churchgoer, but Dad had been gone longer than normal and when he came back, he was in bed for a few days and I wasn’t allowed to see him. I understand now he was shot, but Grams just told me he was sick.
Sick.
On the first night he was home, he cried out twice in pain. I never knew my father could feel pain. He seemed too big for that. Too strong.
Scared of this monster of an emotion that had been ushered into my safe house, I had placed every stuffed animal I owned in the hallway and position them to face Dad’s room. I then dragged down my covers from my bed and slept outside his room. If Dad couldn’t fend off the boogeyman I was always afraid would sneak in at night and steal me from him, then I’d be strong enough to save him.
I wasn’t strong enough to save him. He’s in prison and there’s nothing I can do. Grams is too old and I can’t stop her from aging. Logan has type 1 diabetes. I don’t even know what that means except it being one more thing I can’t fix.
Everyone but me and Logan are still inside the cabin, and after checking several times, I don’t see any sign of Logan. In the distance there’s a huge red barn and, a little bit farther, I spot corn and some cows. If I breathe in deep enough, I can smell their poop.
Another quick glance to make sure no one from the cabin is watching and I pull out my cell that Isaiah had collected back from Eric last night. Lots of calls, lots of messages, lots of texts, but I only call the one person in Ricky’s organization I can trust.
The phone barely has a chance to ring all the way through once and there’s an answer. “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” I say.
“Jesus, Abby.” It’s weird to hear relief in Linus’s tone. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
I glance around and the deep blue sky with big white fluffy clouds appear to be mocking me with their happiness. “I have no idea where I’m at and other than some possible rope burns on my wrists, I’m fine.”
“Fucking asshole,” Linus growls. “I’m going to eat Eric’s heart for dinner tonight.”
“Tommy okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. He told us what happened and he’s real shook up. Are you free? Can you walk to some place that’s familiar? If not, describe to me where you’re at.”
Linus doesn’t know that Eric let me go and if Eric was the one who tried to put a bullet in me weeks ago, why would he play such an elaborate game? The immediate desire to return to Louisville stalls. “Eric told me Tommy shot me.”
Silence. A long silence. Long enough that my heart beats a bit faster with each passing second.
