Failed Test ~ Logan

                                    

                                          
I've never felt so trapped before. I scoot up close to my window and roll it down just a bit, inhale and try to calm down, but we're on the bottom level of the Bay Bridge, driving back to Berkeley. Talk about a claustrophobic nightmare. I focus out my window on the little patch of blue sky and water flickering between the support beams. Finally, we reach the end of the bridge and come out from under the road above, and I feel like I can think again.
That argument was all my fault. If I hadn't started it, then Kaden never would have yelled at Mom. But I couldn't help it. This wasn't the right time to complain that Mom didn't do anything, but I couldn't just pretend like I don't care.
Kaden is slouching in his seat, his mouth drooping open, his head sagging to the side, and his eyes shut. I lean toward him to make sure he's breathing. At this speed, it's too hard to hear anything or see his chest moving, so I just put my hand right in front of his face. He exhales, warming my knuckles.
Mom grips the steering wheel so hard her knuckles are white. She should be mad at me, not Kaden. I should stick up for him, since he tried to stick up for me.
"Mom . . . He didn't mean it, you know."
"Let's not talk about it right now," Mom says as she looks in her rearview mirror, probably trying to see Kaden. She steers the car down the University Avenue exit ramp; we'll be home soon.
I sit in silence for a while, but I can't let it go. "He was just sticking up for me. Cuz he knows how hard it is for me."
"It's hard on everyone, Logan."
"I know," I say, "But-"
"I said not now." Mom turns onto our street without slowing down. Kaden jumps awake as we bounce the curb to our driveway. The car comes to a sudden halt inside the garage. Mom cuts the engine, gets out, and opens Kaden's door for him.
I open my door and slide out of the car. Kaden crawls across the seat toward me and reaches out. I hesitate, my eyes on Mom, but finally I hold out my arm, and he latches on and pulls himself to his feet.
Mom gazes over the car at us, flicks her eyes away, and slams the door shut. She pivots around and walks through the laundry room into the house.
Kaden teeters on his feet. He slumps into my shoulder and almost knocks me over. "Whoa!" It feels like he's falling, but I realize he's okay, just dizzy. I keep him up. He inhales and holds it in, determined not to cry. "You're okay. I gotcha," I say, doing my best to ignore my pounding heart. "Let's get you inside."
Kaden pulls back and nods. I let him hang on me and lead him around the car and into the house. Through the laundry room, past the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mom is flinging open cabinets and slamming them shut. I hold Kaden close, and we go into the great room. Kaden staggers over to the couch and lets me go. He slumps down.
Mom comes over and hands Kaden a small glass of water and three ibuprofen. He takes the painkillers, goes limp, and tips over onto his side. Mom catches the glass of water before he drops it, and she sets it on the end table. She lifts his legs up onto the couch and pulls the blanket down from the back of the couch to cover him up. He's out of it, still awake but only just barely.
Mom leans forward and kisses Kaden's forehead. Then she gets to her feet and stares down at him with shining eyes. "Logan, come to my room with me." She calmly walks to the hallway.
That's Mom's code for a lecture. Not good times. 
I follow Mom back to her room. She holds the door open for me and shuts it behind us. This room is huge. More like two big rooms fused together, one room for their bed and another off to the side with a couch and a fireplace. The piano is over there. So that's where they decided to put it. I guess we won't be hearing Mom's music anymore with the piano all the way back here. Not like she's been playing much lately anyway.