Zen and Xander Undone by Amy Kathleen Ryan Page B

whispers.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I whisper back.
    His whole body seems to collapse in shame, and tears pop out of his eyes.
    The kid who just kicked my ass starts crying like a baby.

Pain
    â€œH IYA, SLUG. ”
    â€œHi, Mom.” I stare at the same crack in my ceiling that I’ve been staring at for two days. I imagine her hiding inside the tiny fissure in the plaster, watching me.
    â€œHow’s the ol’ spine feeling?”
    â€œIt hurts.”
    â€œ
How
does it hurt? Is it achy?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œTingly? Like when your foot falls asleep?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œSore? Like a bruise kind of?”
    â€œWhy does it matter? It just hurts!”
    â€œI’m just wondering. I’d rub it for you if I could.”
    â€œThanks for the thought.”
    â€œAll I can
do
is think.” She’s silent for a moment, pacing up and down the crack in the ceiling. Then she gets big and floats down to sit on my bed. “I know! It’s throbbing. Is that it?”
    â€œYes!” I say just to shut her up.
    â€œYeah. I remember throbbing. Throbbing was not my favorite pain.”
    â€œYou had a favorite pain?”
    â€œSoreness. That’s the best one.”
    â€œWhatever you say.”
    â€œI had a lot of time to contemplate the different types of pain when you were at school and I was stuck in my room all day. I ranked them. Soreness, tingling, achiness, throbbing, burning, stinging, and agony.” She shudders.
    â€œStinging is worse than burning?”
    â€œYeah, I know. It’s surprising. I wouldn’t have taken this view before I got sick. But yes, I’d say that stinging has a deeper kind of oomph to it. It’s more physical.”
    â€œI couldn’t disagree more. Burning is much worse.”
    â€œGet back to me when you’ve had cancer.”
    â€œWhatever.”
    â€œYou know why you’re in pain, right?”
    â€œI was thrown by a student.”
    â€œThat’s not when you hurt your back and you know it.”
    â€œI’m not going into it, Mom. The guy was trying to hurt Xander and I stopped him.”
    She’s quiet for a minute, but I know by the quality of her silence that this isn’t over. Finally I feel her nestle into the cup of my ear. “When I was alive, I hurt myself the worst when I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing.”
    â€œWe’ve already been through this.”
    â€œZen, you know you screwed up. It scares me that you won’t admit it.”
    I try to shut out Mom’s words, but they’ve wormed their way into my brain, and now I doubt myself. Was I really just trying to protect Xander? Or was I looking for a head to kick? It did feel awfully good to kick that guy, even though I tore something in my back doing it. Should it feel good to hurt someone?
    I hear sounds from the neighborhood through the haze of the Vicodin the doctor gave me. Slamming car doors, the hum of a lawn mower, one of our neighbors shouting at his kids. I wish I could go outside, but I’m stuck here. My eyes trail to the folder lying open on my desk, the one we stole from Mom’s lawyer.
    â€œYou should just stop it,” Mom says bitterly. I almost forgot she was here.
    â€œStop what?”
    â€œYou know what. That folder is none of your business.”
    â€œThe whole thing was Xander’s idea.”
    â€œI may be dead, but I still have feelings.”
    â€œI know!”
    â€œTell your sister I said to stop.”
    â€œLike she’d believe me.”
    She says nothing to this. Xander is too scientific to believe in ghosts. She’d probably recommend I see a psychiatrist if I told her I still talk to Mom.
    â€œSo who is John Phillips, Mom?” I ask her.
    I feel a wistful sigh moving through the air in the room, and then she’s gone.

Railroad
    I T’S SUNNY OUT, and I’m spraying all the weeds on our lawn with some supposedly organic,