me to see that. Right, Doctor?â
âYou made your own discoveries about yourself, Misty. I merely showed you the way,â she said softly.
âA travel guide to Nowheresville,â I retorted. Surprisingly, none of the three laughed.
âIs that really who you think I am?â Doctor Marlowe asked.
âNo,â I said. âBut it sounded funny.â
I looked to the others because I hoped they would understand even more than our trained psychiatrist.
âYou reach a point where you canât stand yourself because youâre so damn depressing to be with,â I said. Now they all looked like they knew what that meant. âI suppose thatâs why I grabbed so fast at the first lifesaver tossed my way.
âThatâs how you referred to him once, Doctor Marlowe, remember, drowning in sadness and grabbing onto the first emotional raft that comes floating by?â
âI think it came from you,â she said.
I shifted my eyes.
âOkay, okay. Our therapist isnât supposed to put things in our heads that arenât already there,â I muttered.
Jade turned to look at Doctor Marlowe and Cathy did the same. Star simply nodded.
âHis name is Charles Allen Fitch. Whenever he introduces himself, he always includes his middle name. He even prefers being called Charles Allen, rather than just Charles. He thinks the added name makes him sound richer or more important or something. And you canât call him Charlie or Charlie Allen. He wonât respond. Heâll pretend he doesnât hear you. Even if one of his teachers does it, heâll keep this glazed, indifferent look on his face until the teacher realizes whatâs wrong and states his name correctly. Then, heâll turn and brightly respond. Good old Charles Allen Fitch.
âHeâs not bad looking. Actually, heâs a very good looking, six-foot-one-inch boy with thick, mahogany-brown hair that he keeps perfectly styled and trimmed. He goes to the hairdresserâs twice a month. What I love are his eyes. Theyâve got these hazel speckles floating in green, and thereâs just something very sexy about his lips.
âHeâs in my class, but before my parentsâ divorce made the national news, he and I had said little more than a half dozen words to each other. I, along with all my girlfriends, just assumed he was too stuck-up. He comes from a very rich family. He told me the house he and his mother live in once belonged to Clark Gableâs personal manager, who also managed other big stars.
âIt is a big house, so big it makes my castle look small. They have a room they actually call the ballroom. His mother has a small army of servants to tend to her and his needs. Charles Allenâs butler functions as his valet as well. You all know what that is?â I asked.
Star shook her head.
âThe butler puts out his clothes every day and seesthat everything is kept clean and pressed and his shoes are polished,â I said. âCharles Allen doesnât even pick out what heâs going to wear to school. Groden, thatâs his name, does it for him.â
âYouâre kidding,â Star said.
I raised my right hand.
âSwear. I saw the clothes laid out for him myself. Even his underwear.
âAnyway, one afternoon, just at the end of lunch, the bell had already rung, Charles Allen approached me and said, âI can appreciate what you are going through. My parents are in the middle of their divorce, too.â
âThat was all he said. I stopped and watched him saunter off. Thereâs something about the way he holds himself that causes people to think heâs a lot older than he is. When we were going places together, I always noticed that. Heâs got this air of confidence, this arrogance, I guess. Even the schoolâs vice principal, Mr. Proctor, speaks to him differently, speaks to him as though heâs speaking to an adult. Mr. Proctor
âYou made your own discoveries about yourself, Misty. I merely showed you the way,â she said softly.
âA travel guide to Nowheresville,â I retorted. Surprisingly, none of the three laughed.
âIs that really who you think I am?â Doctor Marlowe asked.
âNo,â I said. âBut it sounded funny.â
I looked to the others because I hoped they would understand even more than our trained psychiatrist.
âYou reach a point where you canât stand yourself because youâre so damn depressing to be with,â I said. Now they all looked like they knew what that meant. âI suppose thatâs why I grabbed so fast at the first lifesaver tossed my way.
âThatâs how you referred to him once, Doctor Marlowe, remember, drowning in sadness and grabbing onto the first emotional raft that comes floating by?â
âI think it came from you,â she said.
I shifted my eyes.
âOkay, okay. Our therapist isnât supposed to put things in our heads that arenât already there,â I muttered.
Jade turned to look at Doctor Marlowe and Cathy did the same. Star simply nodded.
âHis name is Charles Allen Fitch. Whenever he introduces himself, he always includes his middle name. He even prefers being called Charles Allen, rather than just Charles. He thinks the added name makes him sound richer or more important or something. And you canât call him Charlie or Charlie Allen. He wonât respond. Heâll pretend he doesnât hear you. Even if one of his teachers does it, heâll keep this glazed, indifferent look on his face until the teacher realizes whatâs wrong and states his name correctly. Then, heâll turn and brightly respond. Good old Charles Allen Fitch.
âHeâs not bad looking. Actually, heâs a very good looking, six-foot-one-inch boy with thick, mahogany-brown hair that he keeps perfectly styled and trimmed. He goes to the hairdresserâs twice a month. What I love are his eyes. Theyâve got these hazel speckles floating in green, and thereâs just something very sexy about his lips.
âHeâs in my class, but before my parentsâ divorce made the national news, he and I had said little more than a half dozen words to each other. I, along with all my girlfriends, just assumed he was too stuck-up. He comes from a very rich family. He told me the house he and his mother live in once belonged to Clark Gableâs personal manager, who also managed other big stars.
âIt is a big house, so big it makes my castle look small. They have a room they actually call the ballroom. His mother has a small army of servants to tend to her and his needs. Charles Allenâs butler functions as his valet as well. You all know what that is?â I asked.
Star shook her head.
âThe butler puts out his clothes every day and seesthat everything is kept clean and pressed and his shoes are polished,â I said. âCharles Allen doesnât even pick out what heâs going to wear to school. Groden, thatâs his name, does it for him.â
âYouâre kidding,â Star said.
I raised my right hand.
âSwear. I saw the clothes laid out for him myself. Even his underwear.
âAnyway, one afternoon, just at the end of lunch, the bell had already rung, Charles Allen approached me and said, âI can appreciate what you are going through. My parents are in the middle of their divorce, too.â
âThat was all he said. I stopped and watched him saunter off. Thereâs something about the way he holds himself that causes people to think heâs a lot older than he is. When we were going places together, I always noticed that. Heâs got this air of confidence, this arrogance, I guess. Even the schoolâs vice principal, Mr. Proctor, speaks to him differently, speaks to him as though heâs speaking to an adult. Mr. Proctor
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