Free Break by Hannah Moskowitz Page B

Ocean and she filled her entire bedroom with fish tanks.
    Now she looks up at me, her pointed chin tilted to the side. Her eyes are huge and humid.
    “I don’t think I’m going to do this anymore.”
    “We can do something about the pain,” she says immediately. “I’ve been looking into it. If you take a lot of cough medicine before—”
    “Naomi, stop. It’s not about the pain. I can’t do this anymore.”
    Her mouth bends toward the ground. “But why not?”
    I love that Naomi needs a reason for me to stop killing myself. What a friend.
    “It’s not fair,” I say. She’s big on fairness. “I’m ripping my family to shreds. That wasn’t the point.”
    “I know it wasn’t.”
    “This is too much for my parents right now. They’ve got to focus on Jesse.”
    “Jonah, come on.” She takes my good arm and pulls me to the hallway window seat. With the sun howling beside us and the hordes of people rushing by, I feel like I’m sitting by a river.
    “Look, kid,” she says. “You can’t stop now.”
    I shake my head. “You’re insane.”
    “No, listen. I know this is getting hard.” She traces her fingers down my cast. “You’re brave as hell, you know that?”
    “Don’t do this.”
    “No. I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate this.” A cloud moves in front of the window, and Naomi’s face gets dark. “What you’re doing is . . . shit, it’s a fucking revolution.”
    “Nom.”
    “Look, I’m proud of you! You’re telling everyone that this is your body and what you do with it is your business. That takes balls, man.”
    “That’s not what I’m doing.”
    “You’re brave.”
    “I’m
desperate
.” God, people really needed to stop making me sound like some kind of hero.
    “Naomi,” I say. “If people think my parents are hitting me, they’ll take Will and Jesse away from them. Will is fucking eight months old. He needs his parents. And how the hell is Jesse supposed to survive on his own?” I cut her off before she can start. “Stop. This isn’t okay. I never should have started this, and you know it.”
    She swallows and I see all the muscles in her throat. “So we’ll be more careful,” she says. “We can just do fingers and toes and stuff.”
    “Nom, what the hell? What do you get from this?”
    “The video—”
    “Don’t lie. It’s not the video.”
    She smiles and stares down at the window seat. “I don’t want to tell you. It’s stupid.”
    I realize the sun’s back.
    “Tell me anyway.”
    She plays with the upholstery. “You’re going for it, man.” She shrugs. “You’re putting your all into something. It’s . . . um, kind of inspiring?”
    “It’s self-torture. Not exactly inspiring. Or even interesting.”
    “It’s not self-torture. Don’t belittle it like that.” She shakes her head. “Don’t pretend that’s why you’re doing it. Just because it will make it easier to stop.”
    I don’t say anything.
    “You want to get stronger. You want to be a better person.”
    “Jesus Christ, Naomi, I’m not some sort of martyr. I’m not even a novelty.
Everyone
wants to be a better person.”
    “But you’re going for it.” She throws her arms around my neck. It’s like hugging a doll. “I love you.”
    “Yeah, yeah.”
    “So don’t stop,” she whispers. “Keep inspiring me.”
    All best friends are the same because you’ll do anything for them.
    She’d do it instead, if I asked. She’d break her neck for me.
    “I’ll think about,” I say.
    Aw, shit.

twenty
    NEXT DAY DURING DINNER, NO JESSE. INSTEAD, just the
squeak squeak squeak
of his arms on the rowing machine.
    And Will shrieks.
    Dad leads grace then slices into his chicken breast. “Did Jesse eat already?”
    “He’s not eating,” I say, and stick a piece of cheese in Will’s mouth. He spits it out.
    Squeak squeak squeak.
    “What do you mean, he’s not eating?”
    “He means he had a smoothie,” Mom says, reaching for a drumstick.
    Will bangs his