The next day at school, everyone kept coming up to me asking if I was okay. Some kids said things like that "happened all the time" in our neighborhood. I didn't know how to feel about that. I just wanted Arron to wake up.
Courtney dropped Mark and me off at school, then went straight to my house to pick up my things. She grabbed outfits, my favorite stuffed animal that Arron bought me, a few of Arron's shirts for me to sleep in, his blankets, and everything I needed for school.
My mom and John were mad she did that, but they both knew I couldn't stay home alone while they worked. Deep down, they knew Courtney was the only one actually taking care of me.
Nobody realized things were about to get worse.
John decided he was going after whoever shot up my birthday party.
Mom knew it.
And she didn't stop him.
That's when I started to see who they really were.
After school, Mark and I walked back to his house and started our homework. Courtney came home about an hour later with McDonald's. I asked her if we could visit Arron. She said we could try after dinner, even though he still hadn't woken up yet. The doctor told her his vital signs were strong, but he wasn't responding.
Arron was dreaming somewhere in his mind, alive but trapped in sleep.
After we ate, Courtney drove us to the hospital. When we got there, the nurses let us in to see if our voices might help wake him. They said to call them right away if he opened his eyes.
Seeing Arron laying in that hospital bed made my chest hurt. I held his hand and whispered, "Arron… please wake up."
Nothing happened.
Courtney and Mark kept talking to him, telling him jokes, telling him about school. I didn't say much. I didn't know what to say or if he could even hear me. But I held his hand the entire time.
We went home around 7:30. I showered and went to bed while Courtney stayed up doing college work with a cup of coffee.
Meanwhile, John called a club meeting.
His motorcycle club gathered around the big table—John at the head as President. His VP was Beth's dad, Matt, but everyone called him Happy. The Treasurer was a wild younger guy named Jimmy. Bobby was the club secretary. The rest went by nicknames: Ponytail, Soldier, Lizard, Opi, Captain, and more I didn't even know.
They sat around the table talking about who might've shot up my birthday party and nearly killed Arron—whom they all called "Young Boy."
Captain said he heard rumors that a gang from the next town over was sending a message about "stealing their customers."
John said he would make a call in the morning. Someone was going to pay.
When the meeting ended, Mom and the other women came out with food and alcohol for the men, laughing and acting like nothing bad had happened. My mom worked harder for those men than she ever did for Arron or me.
And that was the night I realized my family wasn't what I thought it was.
That was the night the truth began.