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With my foot, I pushed the handle down, and the water carried away the pills that my best friend craved and said he needed. I turned to face him and stared at him for a moment. He looked as though he was seconds away from a meltdown.
“I thought you were my friend,” he mumbled.
I walked across the bathroom to him, put my hands on his shoulders, and looked him in the eyes.
“I am. And I’m going to help you. Come on.”
I wrapped my arm around him, and we left the locker room. Without saying a word, we walked to my SUV. I drove to a pharmacy that was close by and pulled into the parking lot. If he wasn’t going to come clean and tell me what the fuck was going on, I’d at least get him something safer to take for pain.
“What are we doing, Hollis? I have to be home soon.”
“This will only take a few minutes. Come on.”
Once inside the drugstore, I led us around until I found the aisle with the pain relievers. I scanned the boxes of common pain relievers and saw brands like the ones we had at home. I grabbed a box of Advil liquid gels and turned it over to read the fine print.
“This has an anti-inflammatory.” I handed him the box and watched him read it.
“This won’t be anywhere near as good.”
“It’s safer and better than nothing. I take this for muscle aches.”
“You do?” I nodded, then he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try this.
I pulled up to the curb in front of his house as his dad pulled into the driveway. As his dad got out of the car, Patrick groaned. He pulled his backpack up from between his feet and set it on his lap with his hand on top. I decided to push him for answers.
“Patrick, are the fights you have with your dad just verbal?” I had this sick feeling that maybe it wasn’t just his stepbrother who he was having physical fights with.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll catch you tomorrow, Hollis.”
In desperation for answers, I panicked and reached out to grab on to him any way that I could. I ended up covering some of his hand and part of his backpack. I didn’t mean to, but I also didn’t pull my hand away. He turned his head and looked at me.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.
“I will.” He moved his small finger and hooked it over my pinky. “Pinky promise,” he said. He smiled faintly and opened the door. I didn’t believe it either. “Later, man.”
“Later,” I murmured after the door shut.
I felt like I had just handed Patrick over to the Devil, and by the time I got home, I felt sick. I was quiet at dinner and didn’t have much of an appetite. I hung around the kitchen after Morgan and Chase went to watch TV, hoping for a chance to talk to my parents. Even though they were both right there, I couldn’t get any words to come out. All I knew for sure was that Patrick’s dad was an asshole and his stepbrother was the one physically fighting with him, though Patrick said it usually started with them mutually rough housing.
Maybe I was seeing something that wasn’t there.
Second guessing myself, I went to my room. I tried to occupy myself until bedtime with push-ups and sit-ups. I even tried reading up on some material the TCF marketing manager gave me. I needed to start thinking about if I wanted to use a different name in the TCF or my own name. I stared at the notecards that Chase colored in the name The Dragon, and thought that would be a good team name. Team Dragon. I wrote it down on the paper. I also decided to go by Hollis Ward from the wrestling name I used when I was younger and played with Morgan and Chase. Thoughts of Patrick and my growing concern for him kept creeping in. For the first time since I was a little kid, I went to bed gripping my Worry Wart.
