Page 99 of Heavy

Saturday’shavebecomemyfavorite day of the week. It’s been just over twelve months since I started my probation, and I’ve spent every weekend at the local ballpark cleaning.

I get to spend time with my probation officer, Maria Sandoval, and the other kids around my age. I haven’t shared why I got into trouble, and honestly, I’m not sure I will. Almost everyone else has, though—including this girl, Amanda. She’s really cute, and I think she might be into me. Whenever we have to break into pairs, I swear we both look at each other at the exact same moment, confirming we are thinking the same thing.

I’m really looking forward to these next eleven months, and after that, maybe I can keep volunteering if my mom agrees. I know she’s busy, but if she could drop me off in the morning and pick me up in the evening, I’d have a good excuse to be ‘too busy’ on weekends for my uncle. I’m sure my dad won’t mind—he’s already eager for me to turn eighteen and be out of the house.

I also wonder if Maria will let me text her. If I say that I’m still keeping in contact with my probation officer, that could continue to be a deterrent. I just need to survive until I get through high school. Then I can move in with my brother, hopefully, go to college, and move on from this.

I don’t need to talk about it, just heal and take care of myself.

“See you later, Mom!” I call out as I make my way to the bottom of the stairs, and rush toward the door. Maria pulled in a few minutes ago, I saw her through my bedroom window, and I’m ready to get the weekend started.

“Wait, sweetheart!”

I swing the door open, greeting my probation officer with a big, braces-filled smile, and hers is just as wide. It’s honestly nice to have someone who’s genuinely excited to see me, with no ulterior motive beyond just being there with me.

“Well, good morning, Ronan. Happy as ever I see.”

“It’s Saturday, my favorite day.”

“Mind if I come in?” Her question surprises me. She’s been inside before, but we usually head straight to the ballpark. It’s about a half-hour drive, and with baseball in season, we like to get there early to beat the crowd. Shouldn’t we get going?

I just nod and turn to see that my mom is drying her hands. A huge smile onherface as well.

As we make our way into the living room, as always with the absence of my father, Maria looks at my mom. My mom looks at Maria. Then they look at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Sweetheart, Maria has some incredible news!”

I glance down at her hands. Just last week, she mentioned she thought her fiancé was about to propose. I don’t know much about that, but my curiosity piqued when I saw a photo of her with a guy in a firefighter uniform, so I had asked if it was her husband.

There isn’t a ring. At least, not on her finger.

There is a ringing going off in my ear after she says, “The judge has signed off on your probation early!”

I think I’m in shock, because every inch of me suddenly feels numb.

“You have been doing so incredibly well, that I submitted the early discharge paperwork—”

“W-Why would you do that?” I ask so quietly I barely hear myself, grateful my mom at least catches it so I don’t have to repeat myself. My throat aches, and I think I might be having an anxiety attack.

“It’s because you’ve done so well, Ronan. This is agreatthing!”

The air around me feels too thick, like I’m suffocating with every intake of air.

“Do you hate me?” My question is sincere, because I can’t imagine why she would want to get rid of me so soon. I still have so much time left.No, no—how could this be happening?

“Ronan? Hey, hey. It’s alright!” I think she screams for my mom, but a buzz fills my ears and soon, I’m staring at feet. Maria’s hands are on me, lifting me off the floor and a cool liquid flows into my mouth.

I don’t swallow.

I don’t even want to breathe.

Why would she do this? How could she let me go? I still had so much time to figure out my safety.

I swore I had so much more time.

“Don’t let him come back.” I’m not sure if I say it aloud or just in my head, but all I hear in response are soft “shh” and “it’s going to be okay.”