Contents ( 42)
- The Art of Breathing
- Part One: How We Became Who We Are
- Prologue: Or, Where the Kid Hears the Word of the Day
- 1. Where Tyson Learns to Breathe
- 2. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 3. Where Tyson Graduates and Bear Freaks Out
- 4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
- 5. Where Tyson Gets the Mail
- Part Two: Coming Home
- 6. Where Tyson Comes Home
- 7. Where Tyson Gives a History Lesson
- 8. Where Tyson Attends the Most Awkward Party Ever
- 9. Where Tyson Plans Attends a Protest
- 10. Where Tyson Gets Arrested
- 11. Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
- 12. Where Tyson Writes Bad Poetry and Gawks at Frat Boys
- 13. Where Tyson Decides to Man the Fuck Up
- 14. Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
- 15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
- 16. Where Tyson Learns the Benefit of Therapy
- 17. Where Tyson Meets the Man Who Becomes Helena Handbasket
- 18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
- Part Three: Just Breathe
- 19. Where Tyson Goes to Helena Handbasket’s Sex Dungeon
- 20. Where Tyson Beholds the Awesome Wonder That Is Paul Auster
- 21. Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
- 22. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 23. Where Tyson Hears the Inevitable
- 24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
- 25. Where Tyson Says Hello, Where Tyson Says Good-bye
- 26. Where Tyson Touches upon the Inevitable
- 27. Where Tyson Faces the Music
- 28. Where Tyson Breathes
- 29. Tyson And Dominic
- 30. The Art Of Breathing
- Epilogue: Or, Bear’s Perspective, As It Were (Yeah, He’s Gonna Freak)
- Author’s Note
- Excerpt
- Prologue: Or, Where Bear Answers the Door
- More from TJ Klune
- Readers love the Bear, Otter, and the Kid Chronicles by TJ Klune
- By TJ Klune
“You’re still being quiet,” he says, touching my arm. “Everything okay?”
No. Everything’s not okay.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Just a little stressed, I guess. Finals, graduation.” I shrug. “You know, the future.”
“Do you know if you’re valedictorian yet? Or is that just the forgone conclusion?”
I smile, trying to be modest, even though it comes out sounding like bragging. “They haven’t said, though it looks like I will be. Hell, it’s great publicity for the school—someone my age graduating with a 4.30 GPA. Think of all the donations they’ll be angling for now.”
“Then there’s the fact that you got into an Ivy League school,” Dom points out.
“Yeah. There’s that.” I look out the window.
We’re almost to the Green Monstrosity.
“Tyson?”
“Yeah?”
“You know I’m proud of you, right?”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep myself in check. If only he knew how hard it is to hear that. It’s not as if I don’t know. I do. We just don’t say things like that to one another, not usually. Platitudes are not who we are.
But even I can’t ignore the fire that ignites in my belly at his words.
“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”
He pulls up to the curb at the Green Monstrosity. Good. It looks like no one’s home. The house should be filled with people now, waiting. I’m about to open the car door when he reaches out and grabs my hand, stopping me. I stare down at my fingers on the handle. I wait.
“Tyson,” he says.
“What?”
“You haven’t even really looked at me since I picked you up.”
“I have.” I sound petulant. Defensive.
“You haven’t,” he rumbles at me. “I’ve been waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you to see me. What’s going on?”
Everything. “Nothing,” I say. “It’s not….”
“It’s not what?”
Damn him. “It’s nothing.” I turn to look at him and flash a smile, trying to make it as bright as humanly possible. Trying to make it so there’s no more questions. No more words. It almost works, because I can see the quirk of his lips as he starts to respond, just like I know he will. I smile at him like this, he smiles back. It’s the way we are. It’s how things work.
But it starts to crumble. It starts to fade. The smile I’m expecting slides back into a frown. Now it’s awkward, me and him, sitting here just staring at each other like we’ve got all the time in the world. And doesn’t something happen then? Don’t I feel a pang in my chest, a skipping beat in my heart? My hands would be shaking if they weren’t curled tightly around the handle. My knees would be bouncing if I wasn’t concentrating so hard on keeping them still.
He has such blue eyes. He needs a haircut, maybe in another week or two. I’ll have to remind him. There’s a little scar, just left and below his bottom lip. He doesn’t remember how he got it, only that it’s there. I wonder again if it came from that night, that night he screamed and wouldn’t stop screaming until his voice broke in half.