CHAPTER NINE
Tears stung my eyes as I waited in the hospital. I anxiously tapped my feet on the floor. I didn't know what was happening. My father paced the floor next to me, waiting. That's all we could do. Wait.
The phone rang around 4:00 earlier that evening. It was Mark. I could tell by his voice that there was something wrong. I didn't know what to do so I yelled for my mother and put her on the phone instead. She talked with Mark for a little while, but then took the car and left. I wasn't sure where she was going. She didn't tell me, she just left.
About an hour later, my father told me what was going on and took me to the hospital. A bone in Mark's left calf had been broken in a few places, making him unable to walk or stand on it. I barely slept at all that night because I felt so sick to my stomach.
I heard a knock on my door the next morning. My dad stepped in and closed the door behind him. "I need to ask you something." He said, sitting down at my desk, "Do you know anything about what happened to your brother?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to avoid lying.
"Do you know how it happened? Do you know who he's been seeing lately?"
I sighed. "No, not really. I... Only know what you guys tell me." My stomach twisted with guilt. I didn't want to lie, and I was tired of feeling guilty. I didn't want to cover up Mark's mess anymore.
I tended to him a few times since he'd been back from the hospital, but I didn't speak to him. I just came in and got out. I couldn't even look at him. His lip was cut and there was a bruise above his right eyebrow.
I didn't actually work up the guts to talk to him until five days later, right before I left for school. I was bringing a plate of breakfast up to his bedroom. Leaning against the door, I took a deep breath and mentally went over what I would say.
"How're you feeling?" I asked when I entered, shutting the door behind me. I set the plate down on his dresser and stood by the end of his bed.
"Besides the broken bone, I'm doing pretty good." He said with a sarcastic grin.
"Really?" I responded, looking at his bruise with questions in my eyes. I swallowed hard. "What's going on?"
He looked at my eyes. "What?"
"You know what I mean."
Mark looked down at the floor. I could tell that he did know what I meant. "No, I don't."
"Mark, I know about everything. I know what you've been doing. I saw you smoking with those guys at the carnival. What about that black eye? I'm assuming you broke your leg the same way. Drinking and fighting--" I started.
He sat up right and interrupted me. "Mel, stop. It's not as bad as you think."
"It is bad! And frankly, I'm tired of covering up your mess every time you need me to." I said with raised eyebrows.
"Look, I never asked you to cover for me. So just get off my back!" He was almost yelling at me.
"I'm worried about you!" I shouted. "I can't even look at you anymore without--"
Again, I was interrupted. "Maybe you should worry more about yourself than me."
I was getting extremely aggravated. I took a breath. "When did you become such a jerk?" I didn't want to continue the conversation, and I had to leave for school.
Mark pulled back in surprise and thought for a few seconds. I could tell that my words offended him. "Sorry." He said in a low tone as I turned to exit the room.
