Page 16 of When Ben Loved Tim

“It’s way better than that. Thisishis car. I put him in the hospital!” I blanch at my own confession. “Wait… That sounds bad.”

Allison raises an eyebrow. “Then you better start talking.”

I tell her everything as we go inside her house. She’s already shaking her head halfway through my story. She’s never shied away from telling me hard truths—especially when I make mistakes—but she’s also my best friend and has always supported me. So at the end of my recap, she says, “The boy only has himself to blame for being so damn fine.”

“Exactly!” I say with a maddened cackle.

Her dark eyes are probing, her tone gentle when she asks, “Does he like you back?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Right now, I just want to focus on helping him. I figure he’ll be back on his feet by the time his parents get home. More or less. If I take care of him until then, they won’t need to come home early, and I’ll…” I swallow before continuing. “I’ll get to spend time with him.”

“Ben,” Allison says, in a way that makes it sound like her heart is breaking for me.

“I need your help,” I say while I still have her sympathy. “Tim won’t be in school today. His mom has to call the front office to let them know.”

“But you just said—” she begins before her eyes widen. “No!”

“Please!” I literally beg. My hands are clutched in front of my chest and everything. “One quick call. That’s it. Oh… And I need you to do a Mexican accent.”

“Oh my god,” Allison rolls her eyes. “Remind me why I love you.”

“So you’ll do it?” I ask.

She sighs. “Of course. Help me practice first. You be the front office.”

I hold up a pinky and thumb to the side of my face. “Hello! This is the most boring high school in the world. How can I help you?”

The accent Allison does is terrible, so I’m glad she suggested a trial run. We get it ironed out, upgrading Tim’s injury to a broken ankle, so they won’t expect him back for the rest of the week. We even inform the office that his close personal friend—yours truly—will be bringing his assignments home to him.

“Thank you,” I tell Allison after she hangs up. “That takes care of him. Now I just need to get away with the rest.”

“Which is what exactly?” she asks as we gather our things to leave.

I grimace, knowing that she won’t like my plan. “I’m going to cut class today.”

“Ben! Why?”

“I need to pick him up from the hospital.” I hold up a hand to ward off a lecture. “I won’t get caught. You know how they take attendance in second period? As long as I’m there when that happens, I should be good. Nobody will expect me to leave again.”

Allison is already shaking her head. “Unless a teacher notices you missing. Mrs. Hammond will. You know we’re her star pupils.”

Our choir teacher. She’s right. “You can cover for me. Tell her that I got food poisoning. It’ll only be for one day.”

Allison exhales. “Fine. But you shouldn’t leave until lunch.”

“How come?”

“So your best friend won’t have to eat all by herself. That’s also when some seniors leave for the work release program. So you’re less likely to be noticed when driving away in this showy thing.”

“You’re a genius!” I say, holding open the passenger-side door of Tim’s car for her.

Once we’re both inside, I turn on the ignition and rev the engine, expecting her to be impressed. Instead she still looks concerned.

“You know,” Allison says softly, “there is another way. You could tell your mom. She would pick Tim up from the hospital. And make sure he’s taken care of. Like she did for me, after my mom died.”

I can still remember being sent to school with two sack lunches, so Allison’s father wouldn’t have to pack one. Which had bothered me at the time, because Allison was Karen’s friend, not mine, but we were in the same grade and shared the same lunch break. The first time I gave Allison one of the home-packed meals, she cried. Not knowing what to do, I sat next to her. We ate together, mostly in silence, while she continued to sniffle.

“I really liked her,”I had said toward the end of the meal. On occasion, my parents would send me with Karen on her playdates with Allison, most likely wanting privacy for reasons I’d rather not imagine. I would inevitably get bored when my sister and Allison started playing with dolls and would wander through the house. Allison’s mom would usually offer me a cookie and let me hang out with her instead. Which was great, because she was always willing to watch cartoons with me or whatever else I wanted. So while I didn’t truly understand death back then, I felt a loss, and it had felt important to say so.