Meryl Lee wondered if there might come a time when she would feel a part of this school. Or if she even wanted to.
And then, unaccountably, she thought of Bettye.
Seven
Three days after Matt’s lobster dinner with Mrs. MacKnockater, late at night, Matt found his way to Captain Cobb’s shed, limping. His hand held his back, and his face was white enough to be seen even in the pale light of a quarter moon. He crawled inside. He pulled himself toward the water pump. Then he took two steps toward his bed. Then he fell to the floor, bleeding along the new slash that opened to his low ribs.
His left arm twisted strangely beneath him.
* * *
When Matt woke up, he was bouncing up and down in the darkness.
Bouncing up and down—and it hurt like hell.
He tried to yell, but his mouth wasn’t working. His eyes either, or at least, his left eye. His right opened a little bit, and he could see he was moving past dark pines. He thought that it might be nighttime.
“Georgie?” he got out.
Wheezing came back at him. Someone really old, wheezing.
Not Georgie, then.
He was being carried.
His left arm lay across his stomach, sort of held against his body. His right arm hung down, and he raised it up to push against whoever was carrying him.
“Lie still.”
“Get . . .”
“I said, lie”—there was a long pause, and more bouncing up and down, with lots of wheezing—“still.”
Matt tried to open his right eye wider, but it hurt like hell too.
“Where’s Georgie?”
They were going slower. Uphill. More wheezing. Matt closed his eye. Uphill very slowly. They stopped, and Matt felt whoever was carrying him sink down. Kneeling, maybe.
The breathing was so heavy.
“For such a scrawny kid . . .” whoever was carrying him said.
When he heard a car coming, Matt opened his eye and saw the headlights. And he saw who was holding him in his arms.
“I can tie a buoy hitch,” he said.
“Shut up,” Captain Hurd said. Matt heard the car stop. A door opened. He heard someone call, “Captain.” And he heard, “Help me. For God’s sake.”
Then everything was dark again, and Matt felt himself falling into deep water, deep water, deep water, where only God could see him.
* * *
He woke up. He hurt. A lot. He decided that the deep water was better, so he let himself sink down. He looked around for whales and thought he saw one swimming toward him.
Then it was dark.
* * *
He woke up again. He still hurt, but maybe not as much. Well, maybe as much. He could open his right eye most of the way, and without turning his head, he looked around the room, which was humming. Or something in the room was humming. Or maybe it was snoring—or both, since there was Mrs. MacKnockater, sitting perfectly straight in a chair—as she did—wearing her hair in a bun—as she did—except that the bun was mostly coming apart, which hers would never do. At least, it never did when Matt was around. She was sleeping. And snoring.
The hum grew louder, sort of like the ocean when it was calmest and just swelling a little bit.
He closed his eye.
And it was dark.
* * *
He woke up again. He opened his right eye and let his head turn a little. A window, and the night sky. He let his head turn the other way. A lit hallway. He looked above him. A soft light—the humming he’d heard before, and now.
He thought he should get up and pee. He wondered what he was wearing. He looked down.
Oh, man.
Then he wondered why he didn’t have to pee too bad, and he explored.
Oh, God.
He closed his eye.
Dark.
* * *
The next time, his right eye opened, and some of his left. It took him a little while to figure out how to make the two of them work together, partly because someone was standing right over him and it was hard to focus.
“Matthew,” the someone said, “wake up now.”
He looked at Mrs. MacKnockater.
“Wake up,” she said.
He closed his eyes. “Why?”
“Matthew, it’s time to open your eyes and wake up.”
Eyes closed.
“Listen, you scrawny deckhand. Open your damn eyes.”
Matt opened his eyes.
Captain Hurd stood next to Mrs. MacKnockater.
“You . . . dotard. That language!”
“It worked, didn’t it? He opened his eyes.”
“This is a hospital. And he’s a boy.”
“You think he’s never heard anyone say ‘damn’ before?”
“Hurd!”
“Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.”
Matt started to laugh. He was amazed at how much it hurt to laugh. He was amazed at how many places it could hurt when he laughed.
“Matthew, are you awake?”
“He’s awake. He’s laughing. You don’t laugh when you’re not awake.”
“Matthew,” said Mrs. MacKnockater, “are you hungry?”
“He hasn’t eaten in three days. Of course he’s hungry,” said Captain Hurd.
“Will you shut up?” said Mrs. MacKnockater.
Matt looked at them. He tried to keep his left eye open, but it was starting to close down again.
“Three days?” he said.
He felt Mrs. MacKnockater’s hand touch the side of his face. That hurt too, but it had been so long since someone had touched the side of his face like that, he didn’t say anything.
“He probably has to pee, too.”
“Hurd, if you won’t stop . . .”
“Don’t you?” said Captain Hurd.
Matt shrugged. That hurt too.
“We’ll go get the nurse,” said Mrs. MacKnockater. And with his right eye, Matt watched them go off together, and he wasn’t at all sure what it was he felt then. Whatever it was, it didn’t hurt.
But he fell asleep before the nurse came back.
* * *
Over the next two days, Matt’s hospital room was filled with Captain Hurd and Mrs. MacKnockater—mostly Mrs. MacKnockater. Matt figured the Captain had to be out in Affliction during the day, probably needing him. But, as the Captain pointed out, what with Matt’s left arm being in a sling, he wasn’t going to be tying buoy hitches and laying traps anytime soon. Mrs. MacKnockater, meanwhile, was reading him The Jungle Book, which, she said, was a whole lot better than Mr. Disney’s cartoon—which Matt hadn’t seen anyway, so it didn’t matter.
The Jungle Book was okay.
But there were a lot of other people in the room too.
The nurse who kept waking him up to change the dressings on his face, his chest, his back, and who kept reminding him that he really needed to be resting on his side—which, if you do that for a couple of hours, is really hard to do.
The cop who had lots of questions, like “Who did this to you, kid?”
Matt didn’t say.
“You trying to protect someone? Who are you trying to protect?”