Crazy

  CRAZY GLUE: Right. Sure. Great tradeoff, Haze's beard and mustache for Jason's dad.

  I don't want to remember that day locked in the bathroom, so I don't say anything. I'm hoping Gomez will move off the subject.

  CRAZY GLUE: Doubt it.

  "Jason, why don't you tell us something about your mother. What was she like? Were you two similar, or are you more like your father?"

  AUNT BEE: Oh dear. What does she mean by that? Does she think you're crazy?

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: Careful. What does she want you to confess? Look at the way she's looking at you. Eyes like drill bits boring into you.

  "Oh, uh, no thanks. I don't want to talk about her."

  Pete grabs my foot and shakes it. "It's safe in here, Jason. You'll see."

  I try to smile or something, but I've got my tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth and I'm feeling all squirmy, so I know I'm looking weird.

  "Do you have any special memories of her that you can share with us?" Dr. Gomez says, smiling and tilting her head to one side, waiting for me to answer.

  "Not really. No."

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: Attaboy. Don't tell.

  AUNT BEE: Let it out. Tell the truth.

  What truth? Let what out?

  CRAZY GLUE: What you're holding on to so freakin' tight, goob. Let go.

  I'm breathing funny. Haze and Pete and Dr. Gomez are looking at me, waiting for me to say something.

  "I don't know what you're trying to get me to say. I mean, she was nice. She was a great mother. The end."

  "My mom loves to hear herself yell," Haze says. He sticks his tongue in a container of chocolate pudding and licks it. "You should see the veins standing out on her neck—whoa! What a screamer."

  "My mom didn't yell. She was—she was real quiet. She liked to hike and stuff, like me, and we both liked taking pictures—I mean that's what she did for a living. She was a photographer." I look up. Is that enough? Can we move on now?

  I look at the three of them still watching me like I should have more to say. "Well, that's it." I adjust my sling and knock my hard-boiled egg against the metal file cabinet to crack the shell. I peel the egg and don't look up. I don't know why the hell they keep staring at me. Why doesn't somebody say something?

  Dr. Gomez touches my leg. "Can you name some of her favorite foods, or her favorite color and how she used this color?"

  Crap!

  CRAZY GLUE: Poor little bird heart, it keeps flapping like crazy, but it can't get any air.

  "I don't know—uh, red. She liked red, so our kitchen is painted red and she painted her nails red."

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: Don't go there.

  "Look, she was really great, okay? I don't know what you want me to say." I stare hard at my new Adidas, hoping to block their staring eyes. "She was really smart and nice. Real nice. She—she used to make me these treasure maps. They were maps of sections of Rock Creek Park. She'd take her red nail polish and mark a big X where she buried the treasure. Then we'd go there, and I'd have to follow the map to find the treasure."

  "That's soooo cool!" Haze says, and Pete and Dr. Gomez agree.

  I rub my eyes. "Yeah, it was always some kind of neat rock or a feather in a box or a book or something."

  Okay, I've said enough. That should be enough. I can feel sweat beading up under the hair on my scalp. Any minute it's going to start trickling down my face and they'll know this is getting to me. But why is it? Big deal. Nail polish, photography, hiking, buried treasure—so what?

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: You don't like exposing yourself.

  SEXY LADY: I could say something here, but I won't.

  CRAZY GLUE: Hey, that's my line.

  Why are they looking at me like they're waiting for me to say something I'm not saying? Why don't they say something—move on already.

  CRAZY GLUE: Because watching you sweat is so entertaining.

  Finally, at last, finally, Dr. Gomez says, "That was very nice, Jason, a very nice memory. Thank you." She smiles a big smile at me and her eyes crinkle at the sides like she's just so proud of me. Then she looks at all of us and claps her hands together. "I was thinking that today we would play If You Really Knew Me."

  Haze groans and falls against Pete. "I hate this game! Ugh!"

  Pete shoves him away. "You love it, admit it. If we really knew you, we'd know that you love this game."

  "Yeah, and if we really knew you, we'd know that your mama..."

  "All right!" Dr. Gomez holds up her hands. "Let's just play the game. Let's be serious now."

  CRAZY GLUE: This can't be good.

  Dr. Gomez explains that we start a sentence with "If you really knew me," and then we finish the sentence and tell something true about ourselves. I think I'm going to be sick. I mean literally. I listen to Haze tell how if we really knew him, we'd know that his feelings get really hurt when girls make fun of how thin he is. Tears roll down his face. "And guys laugh at me because I'm so uncoordinated. I'm always getting slammed in the face with a ball in Phys Ed or I'm falling over it." He sniffs and wipes his hand over his face. "If I had one wish in life, it would be that I was good, I mean really good, at sports—especially football."

  Dr. Gomez gets him to talk about what he's good at, and we find out he's good at arguing and history and he's thinking of becoming a lawyer some day. "Even if my dad sucks as a dad, he's a good lawyer. He helps people. I'd like to do that," he says.

  Then it's Pete's turn, which means my turn is next. I'm sweating like crazy, my heart is insane, and my thoughts are circling around the things I said about my mom. I don't want to be here. I'm scared.

  Pete rubs his head and I see sweat on his forehead. Maybe this is getting to him, too. "If you really knew me," he says, then pauses. "You'd know that I once bought a gun off the black market and I was going to kill my dad's dealer. I came so close."

  "Whoa!" Haze says. "What happened?"

  "Zen. I found this Zen book in my parents' library—I read it and it changed my mind. Peace feels better." He looks around at us and tucks his lips in his mouth as if trying to keep from saying anything else, or maybe to keep from crying.

  Haze shakes his head. "Dude! Get out of here! I can't see it. Pete the killer."

  AUNT BEE: Your turn to tell the truth.

  I don't have anything to tell.

  Dr. Gomez makes her comments to Pete, which I don't hear 'cause I know my turn is next and my heart is making too much noise.

  "Jason?" Dr. Gomez says.

  I look at them. They're all wearing these encouraging expressions, but it doesn't help. I feel set up. My muscles are so tense from trying to hold my irritation in. Yeah, I'm mad. I don't know why, but I'm mad at this game we're playing. It sucks. Sweat trickles down the left side of my face.

  CRAZY GLUE: Stop trying so hard. What are you holding in, anyway?

  SEXY LADY: Tell them something.

  AUNT BEE: Tell them about yourself.

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: Just tell the truth.

  LAUGH TRACK: If you really knew me...

  What truth?

  SEXY LADY: (Whispers) Tell them what you're hiding.

  What am I hiding?

  LAUGH TRACK: If you really knew me...

  ALL: If you really knew me ...

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I'VE GOT TO GET out of here. I feel like my head might explode if I don't leave. I need to get out now!

  CRAZY GLUE: If you really knew me...

  Everybody's waiting, watching. It's my turn—my turn to tell the truth.

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: If you really knew me...

  No! I jump to my feet and rush to the door, but the phone rings. Pete says, "I bet it's Shelby," and I freeze.

  Dr. Gomez answers the phone.

  Pete's right. It's Shelby.

  We know right away why she's calling.

  I stand with my hand on the doorknob and listen. I'm panting as if I've just run a race.

  "Oh, Shelby, I'm so, so sorry," Dr. G
omez says, leaning against the desk for support. "I'm so sorry. Of course you did everything you could. When ... It's all right. It's natural to cry. Of course you're upset. You're heartbroken. It's understandable."

  We can hear Shelby crying through the phone and it's making my head buzz. I don't want to hear her, and yet I'm straining to hear what she's saying. She sounds so totally torn up, so desperate. I feel like something is splitting inside me. I want to get out of here but I don't move. I can't move. I want Dr. Gomez to make her stop crying. Why doesn't she stop her? Dr. Gomez has tears in her eyes. "Let it out. Just let it all out. It's all right. You'll be all right."

  Why does Gomez tell her to let it out? Now we can really hear her through the phone. It's as if she were here in the room. It's horrible. She's screaming for her mother.

  I can't breathe.

  CRAZY GLUE (AS JASON): "Mommy! Where are you? Why did you leave me?"

  I can't take it. Shelby is screaming into the phone.

  CRAZY GLUE: Scream! Jason, scream!

  She needs to stop! Everybody needs to stop screaming—to shut up, Shelby, Dr. Gomez, me. Yes, I need to shut up. I'm shouting. I can hear myself. I don't know when I started shouting, but I am. I yell at Dr. Gomez to hang up the phone. "Hang up the phone! Hang up the phone! Shut up. You hear me? Shut up, both of you! Just stop it! Stop it! Hang up the phone!"

  I feel hysterical. Dr. Gomez is standing with the phone in her hands looking at me, stunned, and this riles me even more. I can still hear Shelby screaming. I have to shut her up. I grab the receiver out of Dr. Gomez's hand and slam it down, missing the phone and hitting the desk. Then I hit the desk some more, slamming the receiver against it over and over again. "I hate her! I hate her! How could she? How could she leave me? Why did she do it? She left me all alone with him when she knows. She knows! I hate her! I hate her so much!"

  Dr. Gomez and Pete and Haze all try to grab me and stop me, but I jump out of their way with another yell—like a roar, as if some wild bird-beast is inside me—and I stomp on my lunch, the second ham sandwich and the chips and cookies still inside bursting from the bag. I mash them into the rug, killing them before they scream out in pain. Then I lunge past Pete and Haze, who both try to grab my arm, and I reach for the stack of books and papers on Dr. Gomez's desk. With another roar I shove them off the top, and papers and books fly everywhere. Then, feeling the urge to pick the whole desk up and topple it over on its back, I move around to the front of it, kicking at the chair with another roar, and reach for the desk, jerking my bad arm out of its sling, willing to rip it out of its socket if I have to, to get the desk flipped. "I hate her!"

  "Okay, now, that's enough!" Dr. Gomez shouts. She gets on the other side of the desk and sets her hands down on it, leaning her weight on it as if her body can hold back my rage.

  I lower myself, preparing to lift the desk. My throat feels ripped out of me. My chest hurts; even the skin on my face hurts as though it's splitting, ripping wide open. I lift the desk and out of the corner of my eye I see Pete lunge forward; then the room goes dark. All of us are in total darkness. I choke on my last yell so that I burst out in a coughing fit, shredding what's left of my throat with each cough. I let the desk drop and I bend over to cough. Dr. Gomez and Pete both ask if I'm okay, and Haze says, "Whoa, this is intense, man."

  I feel a hand clamp down on the back of my neck and I know it's Pete's. Then I feel Pete grab me around my chest and lift me off the floor as his fist goes into my stomach. I feel a thrust of air burst from my chest, and then he sets me down.

  I turn around, even though I can't see him. "The Heimlich maneuver?" I say. "You give me the Heimlich maneuver to get me to shut up?" My voice is hoarse, and it hurts to swallow.

  The light comes on and I look around. The room is a mess with my food mush everywhere, books and papers scattered, the desk off center, the chair against the wall, and the pillows scattered from when Haze tripped over them in his attempt to stop my rampage. Haze is by the door now, his hand in midair making him look like he's playing freeze tag, and Dr. Gomez is frozen, too. She watches me, like she's waiting for my next move.

  Pete stands beside me, looking surprised by his own actions. "It seemed like the right thing to do at the moment," he says to me, shrugging.

  We hear a knock on the door. Dr. Gomez leaps over the pillows and calls out in an overly cheerful voice, "Come in!"

  Dr. Woods, the principal, sticks his head in the room. "I just wanted to make sure everything is all right. Some students said they heard a commotion in here."

  "Everything's fine," we all say, each of us wearing some kind of ridiculous grin on our face.

  Dr. Woods nods, glances at the four of us, and then at the disaster around us. "I'll leave you to it, then." He withdraws his head from the room and closes the door. We look at one another and burst out laughing.

  Chapter Thirty

  I STAY BEYOND the lunch hour to clean up the mess I made in the office. I don't want to go to my next class, anyway. Before I exploded, I wanted like anything to get out, but now I don't want to leave. It feels safe here. It feels like the only safe place on the planet, so I take my time cleaning up. It's weird. My body hurts as if I threw myself against a wall over and over. All my muscles feel sore and so does my throat. I know I made a total ass of myself, but for some reason I feel okay about that.

  CRAZY GLUE: At least nobody called you crazy.

  But maybe that's 'cause they don't know everything.

  AUNT BEE: They don't know about us.

  I'm on my knees cleaning up my lunch mess and Dr. Gomez is picking up the stuff I swiped off her desk. She keeps reassuring me that my outburst, as she calls it, was a normal reaction. "Good for you," she keeps saying. "Good for you, Jason. It's perfectly natural to be angry with your mother for dying. Everybody who loses someone special goes through that. It's just part of the grieving process." She's got all the papers I knocked off her desk in her arms and she sets them on the desk, adjusting them until they're back in a neat little stack.

  I think about what she just said. I feel so guilty for saying I hated my mom. I didn't even know I was so angry with her. I didn't realize this was hiding inside me. I want Dr. Gomez to know that I love her, too. I tell her this. "I loved my mom," I say. "I love her, but I'm just so angry." The pieces of mashed bread I had scraped off the rug I toss into the wastebasket.

  "Of course you are. And maybe she's not the only one you're angry with."

  I pause with a bunch of cookie crumbs in my hands. Jeez! "Who else?"

  She stoops down beside me. "Any number of people, I'm sure. But who comes to mind?"

  I drop the crumbs in the wastebasket and think about this.

  Then I go ahead and blurt out my story about the fifth grade, and being betrayed by my best friend, and the swirlie. I don't know why I reach all the way back to that old story, but as I'm telling it, I feel a strange peacefulness inside.

  "That's abominable what they did to you," Dr. Gomez says when I finish. "I'm sorry, Jason—so, so sorry. But you know, you're going to have to find a way to keep the torments from your past from scarring the rest of your life."

  "Yeah." I pitch a paper towel full of gunk into the wastebasket. "I kind of just realized that. I mean, I feel like I could have died the day they flushed my head in the toilet. I passed out and everything." I run my hand over the bandage covering my stomach. And then when Reed stabbed me, I could have died then, too, but I've been thinking that maybe it's worth the risk of almost dying to speak out and just be myself, because inside I've been dying most of my life, anyway. It's like this slow death trying all the time to hide who I really am."

  "And that's what you've been doing." Dr. Gomez stands up and leans against her desk.

  "Yeah, only I think lately bits and pieces of me are starting to leak out. It's—it's crazy." I laugh.

  Gomez tilts her head. "What do you mean?"

  CRAZY GLUE: Don't tell her about us.

  FBG WITH A MUSTACHE: Or De
ar Mouse.

  "Oh, well, like I've always tried to just be invisible in school, partly 'cause of my dad and then because of what happened with the swirlie. I figured who needs friends if all they're going to do is turn against you. I thought it was safer and easier to be on my own. But I don't think I want to be invisible anymore because—because it's lonely, and I don't want to be lonely. I don't want to be alone."

  CRAZY GLUE: You mean you're scared shitless of being alone.

  SEXY LADY: That's why you have us. You're never alone with us, Jase.

  I scrub real hard at this spot on the rug so I don't have to look at her. "Like writing the wrong dates on my papers and not punctuating my sentences and stupid stuff like that. I think I just wanted to get attention, get noticed, just to kind of see if I could." I laugh again. "I think I was starting to really believe I was invisible—practically."

  "And what do you believe now?"

  I look at her. She's leaning against the desk, waiting, her arms crossed. "That my teachers think I'm a pain in the ass, but I think I can be funny, too."

  Gomez stirs. She picks up some pencils and puts them back in her pencil holder. "Just what this school needs, another class clown."

  "Yeah, okay, maybe not like that, exactly."

  Dr. Gomez smiles at me and pushes up the sleeves of her puffy shirt. "I'm proud of you. I think you've made an important discovery about yourself."

  I've finished cleaning the mess, so I set the wastebasket back over by the side of her desk. I feel better about stuff, I guess, but something nags at me. I don't know what it is and I don't feel like digging around in my head anymore to figure it out.

  Dr. Gomez hands me a pass for my next class and then, just as I'm leaving, she says to me, "Forgive yourself, Jason."

  I stop. "Huh?"

  "Think about it," she says, then smiles this Mona Lisa—type smile that I can't read at all. She lets the door close on me, and after just standing in the hall for a minute or so, stunned, 'cause what the hell did she mean by that, I make my way to class.