Page 46 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

“Cesar! Cesar, wake up! No, no, no, no, wake up!” Jamal’s voice sounds distant and out of focus, but the five sets of running

footsteps sound even farther away until they’re gone. I don’t know how long it is before Jamal’s calls feels closer and closer,

like I’m slowly coming out of a dream.

I groan, and shut my eyes harder than they already were, as if that will make the pounding in the back of my head go away.

“Cesar, can you hear me?” he asks, and it’s weird hearing his voice sound so uncalm. “Look at me, Cesar.”

“Mmm,” I grumble as I finally open my eyes to see Jamal’s and Avery’s concerned forms hovering over me.

“I’m calling 911,” Avery says.

“No, I’m fine,” I say.

“Dammit, Cesar, I just woke you up in a puddle of your own blood! You’re not fine! You need a hospital, we’re calling 911,”

Jamal says, more firmly than I’ve ever heard him speak.

“We can’t afford that,” I protest weakly as Jamal scrambles to fish his phone out of his pocket.

“That doesn’t matter right now!”

“Avery will get in trouble... ,” I protest again. He broke probation fighting because of me.

“Don’t worry about me,” Avery says.

“Call my abuela instead, okay?” I insist. “She’ll take me to the hospital. Please?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Jamal answers. “Fine. What’s her number?”

My answer must not be coherent, because Jamal just digs right into my pocket and pulls out my phone, saying something I can’t

make out before I close my eyes again.

The next thing I know, I find myself lying soaking wet in the back of Abuela’s car with my head in Jamal’s lap and Avery looking

back at me all concerned from the front seat. I look up at Jamal drowsily and notice for the first time that he’s all bruised

up, too. His lip is fat, and his eye is swollen with a cut splitting his brow.

This is not what I wanted. This could not possibly be what God wanted. Not only did I fail at ending things, but I pulled

Jamal and Avery into it. This can’t be right. Did I misunderstand the signal? Nothing makes sense....

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “I’m really sorry....”

Then the world fades to black.

Someone wakes me up every thirty minutes or so in the hospital to make sure I’m okay since I apparently have a concussion.

I don’t know how long I’m lying on the cot before I finally wake up on my own. I don’t open my eyes just yet.

Mami and Abuela are actually in the same room. And they’re... talking?

“I’ll come home with him. I can take care of him this week while you work, mija,” Abuela says.

“That won’t be necessary.” Mami’s voice.

“Why? Do you have another mother who can take care of him for you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Mami says coldly. She must be talking about Dona Violeta.

Okay, maybe them talking isn’t the best thing right now. I open my eyes and groan, which gets their attention off each other.

“He’s awake,” Abuela says quietly.

Within seconds, Yami, my mom, Jamal, Avery, and my abuela are all surrounding the hospital bed.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to sit up, but Yami puts a hand on my chest and softly pushes me back down. I’m too weak to

protest. I barely remember how I got here. All I remember is water filling my lungs.

“Your friends here filed a police report,” Abuela says. “Those boys have already been arrested. They won’t be hurting you

anymore.”

“What about Avery?”

“Worry about yourself,” Avery says. He sounds on edge, but course corrects pretty quick. “I didn’t get arrested or anything,

and I still have that lawyer helping me. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to tell us what happened, mijo. What is going on with you? Are you self-harming?” Mami’s voice quivers, and tears fill my eyes.

No one ever stopped caring about me, no matter what I did. I hurt all of them. But most of all, she’s right. I hurt myself.

I nod, unable to deny it or admit it out loud.

I might not have been self-harming in the traditional sense, but everything I’ve done this year has been purposely self-destructive.

I tried to get myself killed less than an hour ago.

I look at the worried faces around me, and the reality hits harder than any gut punch from Nick. If I died, they would all

blame themselves. None of them would recover.

Despite my best efforts, I am loved.

“Do I have to go away again?” I ask as tears cling to my lashes, already knowing the answer.

“We found your note, mijo. You really need to get help,” Mami says.

I let out a resigned sigh. I tried to end it tonight. Of course they’re going to send me away. I don’t know what else I could

have expected.

I move to get up, but Yami puts a hand on my shoulder.

“You should rest. There’s no rush to get up right now,” she says.

Then I just burst out crying. I don’t know if I have it in me to ask for help. But I can ask for one thing. “I just want a

fucking hug,” I whimper, and Jamal takes one of my hands while Abuela takes the other, and they help me to stand.

As soon as I’m out of the bed, all four of them gently wrap their arms around me, while Avery awkwardly pats my back. Then

I can’t help it. I start sobbing uncontrollably, held on my own two feet only by the strength of the embrace.