waves. I tell stories for them and mostly Miss Jean Bauer tells me they're good stories. The first one is a picture of a boy and a violin and this is the story I tell:
"There's a spider down in the violin and then he's sitting there wondering if it's going to come out of it and if it will bite his chin if he begins to play. But his mind keeps drifting away so he's not worried."
"Where is his mind drifting?" she says. "What's he thinking about?"
"He wants to go outside, I think."
"And what will happen?"
"He'll probably play that violin for a while and the spider will just listen," I say. "How do you read my answers? You think they mean in a certain way, but how do you know?"
"Don't worry about any of that," she says. "Just tell me the first story that comes in your mind. Have you ever seen an X ray?"
"Yes," I say. "I know what one is."
"Well," she says, "we're trying to find out what it looks like inside you, by the stories you tell."
"You could just ask," I say.
"Yes, but you might not be able to say it."
"So it's a crooked way you're going," I say. "So I'll somehow say what I can't say."
"Right," she says. "That's not a bad way to think about it." And then she shows me a picture of a person turned away with their head on a bench and a gun on the floor and then another with a woman on a couch reading a book to a girl holding a doll and looking away like she might not be listening.
It is so hard to be in the room with these girls. I sit at the round table with the pencil and scratch paper trying to write and then I get up and stand next to the window and I feel like breaking the glass in that room since it seems like it should be easier to breathe and I can't get air. Every time the door opens I think it could be Father and I look up and instead it's Miss Jean Bauer or Mr. Harris coming to get me or Valerie or Taffy.
My feet hurt so I take off my shoes and put the socks inside them. The floor is too hard and smooth beneath my feet. It's cold. The air smells like all the chemicals it takes to keep everything so clean.
"Gross," Valerie says. "You're getting your dirty feet all over everything."
"My feet are clean," I say.
"You act like you're better than everyone. Different."
"That's not true," I say to her even if what she says makes me think that I do feel that way but I don't act that way.
"What's your problem?" she says.
"I don't have a problem."
"That's your problem," she says. "That you think you're so great and don't have any problems. And your watch is always the wrong time. Stupid."
"My problem is that I got taken away from my father," I say. "Obviously. And then I got locked in here where you're trying to argue with me."
"I can ask whatever I want," she says, "if you have a problem. Is it me? Is that what you're saying?"
"This is such a dumb conversation," I say. "I used to think we were almost friends and now we only talk like this, not saying anything at all."
Taffy sits watching the television and then turning her head, looking at Valerie and then looking at me. Listening. Her face is happy like she expects something.
"You think I'm dumb?" Valerie says. "You don't even have any friends."
"I do," I say. "I have a friend named Zachary."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"No," I say.
"Is Richard your boyfriend?" she says. "Do you think that?"
"Richard? No. He tried to give me a bracelet but I didn't accept it."
"Bitch," she says, standing close to push my shoulder. "Richard is my boyfriend," she says. "Don't you ever touch him. Don't even say his name again. What are you laughing at?"
"I was thinking about Zachary," I say. "He believes in Big-foot but really it's only Nameless."
"Whatever," Valerie says, and then reaches out to grab at me and tries to slap but is too slow and then she's chasing me around the table and is already breathing hard. She curses and picks up a chair and throws it over the table and I leap so it hits the wall and crashes down next to me. She comes around and I swing
"There's a spider down in the violin and then he's sitting there wondering if it's going to come out of it and if it will bite his chin if he begins to play. But his mind keeps drifting away so he's not worried."
"Where is his mind drifting?" she says. "What's he thinking about?"
"He wants to go outside, I think."
"And what will happen?"
"He'll probably play that violin for a while and the spider will just listen," I say. "How do you read my answers? You think they mean in a certain way, but how do you know?"
"Don't worry about any of that," she says. "Just tell me the first story that comes in your mind. Have you ever seen an X ray?"
"Yes," I say. "I know what one is."
"Well," she says, "we're trying to find out what it looks like inside you, by the stories you tell."
"You could just ask," I say.
"Yes, but you might not be able to say it."
"So it's a crooked way you're going," I say. "So I'll somehow say what I can't say."
"Right," she says. "That's not a bad way to think about it." And then she shows me a picture of a person turned away with their head on a bench and a gun on the floor and then another with a woman on a couch reading a book to a girl holding a doll and looking away like she might not be listening.
It is so hard to be in the room with these girls. I sit at the round table with the pencil and scratch paper trying to write and then I get up and stand next to the window and I feel like breaking the glass in that room since it seems like it should be easier to breathe and I can't get air. Every time the door opens I think it could be Father and I look up and instead it's Miss Jean Bauer or Mr. Harris coming to get me or Valerie or Taffy.
My feet hurt so I take off my shoes and put the socks inside them. The floor is too hard and smooth beneath my feet. It's cold. The air smells like all the chemicals it takes to keep everything so clean.
"Gross," Valerie says. "You're getting your dirty feet all over everything."
"My feet are clean," I say.
"You act like you're better than everyone. Different."
"That's not true," I say to her even if what she says makes me think that I do feel that way but I don't act that way.
"What's your problem?" she says.
"I don't have a problem."
"That's your problem," she says. "That you think you're so great and don't have any problems. And your watch is always the wrong time. Stupid."
"My problem is that I got taken away from my father," I say. "Obviously. And then I got locked in here where you're trying to argue with me."
"I can ask whatever I want," she says, "if you have a problem. Is it me? Is that what you're saying?"
"This is such a dumb conversation," I say. "I used to think we were almost friends and now we only talk like this, not saying anything at all."
Taffy sits watching the television and then turning her head, looking at Valerie and then looking at me. Listening. Her face is happy like she expects something.
"You think I'm dumb?" Valerie says. "You don't even have any friends."
"I do," I say. "I have a friend named Zachary."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"No," I say.
"Is Richard your boyfriend?" she says. "Do you think that?"
"Richard? No. He tried to give me a bracelet but I didn't accept it."
"Bitch," she says, standing close to push my shoulder. "Richard is my boyfriend," she says. "Don't you ever touch him. Don't even say his name again. What are you laughing at?"
"I was thinking about Zachary," I say. "He believes in Big-foot but really it's only Nameless."
"Whatever," Valerie says, and then reaches out to grab at me and tries to slap but is too slow and then she's chasing me around the table and is already breathing hard. She curses and picks up a chair and throws it over the table and I leap so it hits the wall and crashes down next to me. She comes around and I swing
Similar Books
