On My Honor by Marion Dane Bauer Page B

the maple tree outside his window. It was the tree Joel and Tony had been building a tree house in. The sound of leaves, the touch of cool air on his skin, was good. It was good to be able to feel such things, but Tony couldn't. Tony couldn't feel anything anymore.
    Joel lifted his arm to his nose and sniffed. The smell was still there, so sharp that it made his eyes sting. He supposed it would be with him for the rest of his life.
    Why had he been dumb enough to dare Tony, anyway? He knew what Tony was like. If somebody had dared him to walk through fire, he would have done that, too.
    Joel pulled the pillow over his head, pushed it off again. His eyes were as dry and scratchy as sandpaper. He wished his father would come, get it over with.
    The front door opened and closed again. Joel could hear his father fiddling with the lock. Didn't he understand yet? Bad wasn't something that could be locked out. Bad was something that came from inside you when you didn't even know it was there.
    His father was moving up the stairs now, his footsteps heavy and slow, and he stopped outside Joel's door as he had earlier in the evening. Joel lay quietly, holding his muscles rigid, although he knew pretending to be asleep wouldn't work this time.
    His father came in. He pulled a chair away from Joel's desk, set it next to the bed, very close, and sat down. At first he didn't say anything, and Joel thought, He's going to sit there all night. That's his way to punish me. He's going to sit there so I can't run away, so I can't sleep, so I couldn't even cry if I wanted to.
    Joel tried to keep his breathing steady and slow the way he had done before, but he felt as though he had been running for a long time and had to gasp for air. His skin was too tight. He was going to explode.
    "I'm sorry," his father said finally.
    "Sorry?" Joel blurted, astonishment rolling him over onto his back. "Why sic you sorry?"
    His father didn't answer at first, and just when Joel was convinced he wasn't ever going to answer, he said, "I'm sorry I misjudged the situation. I'm sorry I gave you permission to go."
    Joel didn't respond.
    "And," his father added softly, "I'm sorry that I wasn't there to help you, that you had to be so frightened and so alone."
    "It was my fault," Joel said dully. "The whole thing was my fault."
    "Probably nobody could have found Tony in that water," his father replied, not understanding. "And if you had managed somehow, he might have pulled you under. He was bigger than you, heavier. He wouldn't have known what he was doing."
    Joel thought of the swirling water closing over his head, pouring into his lungs, and his skin rippled into gooseflesh. But then he thought of Tony, Tony taking dibs on his bike, Tony dancing a jig on the bridge, Tony pretending to be a prehistoric monster. "It should have been me," he said.
    Joel's father took hold of his arm, almost roughly. "Don't you say that," he said. "Don't you ever let me hear you say that."
    Joel looked his father full in the face. "It's my fault," he repeated. "If I hadn't gone down to the river, Tony would have stayed out of the water."
    "Maybe," his father said. "Maybe not. There's no way to know. You can't live your life by maybe s"
    Joel's arm was beginning to hurt where his father gripped it, but that wasn't enough. Nothing his father said or did was enough. "Are you going to punish me?" he asked.
    His father sighed, was silent again for a moment, his hand gently smoothing away the earlier pressure. "Is that what you want?"
    "You said I was on my honor this morning. I wasn't supposed to go anywhere except the park."
    His father merely asked, "What would it teach you, son ... more punishment?"
    Since Joel had no answer for that, he said the only thing he could think of to say, said it harshly, as though it were an accusation. "Your hand is going to smell like it."
    "Like what?" His father raised his hand to his face.
    "Like the river. Don't you notice the stink?"
    His father sniffed