Capítulo 29: Brain Freeze
Slushies, smoothies, and milkshakes have one thing in common: they attack the Tiny People and lock them in the brain freezer. Some characters in dark comedies claim to like this sensation.
I'm not one of them.
✎✎✎
The next morning, my brain was stuck in my chest, and my heart pounded through my throat like a jackhammer. (I don't know how to not sound like Shakespeare here. I'm on my ninth read-through of Romeo and Juliet, end to beginning.)
I rolled out of bed, finding Mom's head instead of my empty doorframe. Her mouth twitched. "How are you feeling, Honey?"
"I'm fine."
She didn't budge from the doorway, watching as I pulled my hoodie on, shook my hair out, and checked my phone for any messages. Nothing. Yet, I felt an awkward expression on my lips.
That stupid smile.
"Where are you going?"
I shoved the shoelace into place. "Therapy."
"Isn't it a Saturday?"
If she knew it was Saturday, why would she ask me? Whatever. I guarantee Mom knew. If my parents messed up a day, they'd probably get sued by somebody. The idea of the question sent me pondering, but I was too…happy to care. The word tasted weird in my Tiny Person's mouth.
"Doctor White's holding an extra session."
A wisp of hair escaped her lips. "And you're…going to it?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then, okay."
Okay.
"How's therapy been going for you?"
This attention was strange. I liked it. At least, I think I did. I would've been grinning either way.
"Good…" I scratched my head. "Are you alright?"
Crash.
I'm not sure how to explain what happened next without that word. But let's try. Mom had been fidgeting with a champagne glass (they drank everything from those glasses). At my last three words, it slipped out and shattered against my bedroom floor. I would have jumped, but having caught every movement, there was no shock. Just a little bit of confusion mixed up with a big lack of sleep.
Mom breathed, "Did you just…"
"What?"
"Just…nothing. I'm fine."
"Cool." I realized that wasn't enough when her weight shifted towards the door again. "Well, thanks for checking in." We stood in the bubble of silence. "I'm gonna go."
"See you later, Honey."
"Uh-huh."
I'm still not sure what just happened. Dr. Conner takes me off my antidepressants and suddenly I'm a nuclear bomb.
✎✎✎
Julia was on time to pick me up; I didn't even need to call.
Unfortunately, I wasn't home. I'd been staking out at that stupid fountain waiting for a drug deal or gun fight or something. As usual, nothing. I'd even worn my Mission Impossible sunglasses.
When I got back home, there she was, tapping her foot against the brown grass. She saw me and jumped in. I followed suit.
"How are you?"
Something about these words—or any words—must be powerful when they leave my mouth. Julia pulled my mom when she let a Starbucks cup slip right from her hand. I gasped. Hot coffee and skirts don't go well together.
Julia shrieked, "Gah…I'm. NOT. Going…to swear. Right now. OW."
Petrification is no laughing matter. Awe transformed into utter fear of the creature beside me.
"S-sorry," I screeched.
My hands instinctively found the tissue box in her glove compartment to soak the brown, sticky mess off her clothes. What did I learn? Tissues are not sponges; they take on a wet-wipe texture when they get wet.
You'd think I would've put two and two together.
I yanked off my sweatshirt and patted it against her lap. A part of me wanted to do something else, something more useful and normal, but Julia swatted me away, sweatshirt and all. I noticed her manicured fingers when she gripped one hand around my shoulder and gritted her teeth. "Alright," she said. "Well, that just happened."
I gulped.
Her emeralds pierced with mine and froze time. "Wait…did you…apologize?"
Nothing about the sweatshirt. Maybe she wouldn't notice.
"Of course."
Did you say that? Tiny Person asked.
"Ben, don't get too nice on me here. You're starting to freak me out."
Me too.
"Oh, sorry."
"Stop that!"
"Okay, sorry."
She fisted her hands and put the car in drive. That instinctive pattern-loving area of my brain urged my eyes towards the glass of the window, but I couldn't seem to move them from her.
"What are you staring at?"
I couldn't respond with any abnormality. I couldn't try to sound creepy intentionally, or blow her off, or insult her, or look away immediately and say nothing. I couldn't look at the speedometer, well over twenty-five miles per hour. Or the destroyed sweatshirt in my hands. I couldn't focus on the disturbing odor of coffee. My brain wouldn't let my fingers draw on the window. I felt like a part of a horror film. Except, I was the psychopath.
I blinked to resist another apology. Reading my mind, she gave me a nod. Appreciation? Sure, let's go with that.
Then her eyebrows furrowed again.
"What?" she asked.
There was something fascinating here. This discovery I was racking Tiny Person around outranked the dinosaurs.
"It's…nothing."
"Ben, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just…"
There's something Julia always does. I have my own mannerisms. But when she's upset or wants to know something, she pulls the car over for clear emphasis. This time was no exception.
"Look," she said, "You can tell me what's going on right now, or we can bring this up at therapy. Your choice."
"But nothing's wrong."
Julia folded her arms. "Well, obviously there's something on your mind. Share. I'll go first: I'm frustrated because my friend can't figure himself out and is convinced there's something wrong with him besides his own stubbornness, my friends all want to use me as a therapist―including Alex—and my dad is too busy trying to save the planet to focus on his own grief for one stinking second. Your turn."
That spiraled fast.
My heart faltered away from a real answer. "You…don't think there's something wrong with me."
It was supposed to sound like a question, but it didn't have that little up-edge.
"I think I've made it clear that the idea of you being beyond hope is an insult to anyone who has ever had any kind of mental issues of any sort. Now, spill."
My feet begged me to run. But Tiny Person wanted to answer. I listened to the latter because it usually served me better. Well, that's not true, but I listened to it anyway. "I…don't always…read people well, you know? It's…hard for me to know when someone's happy, or when I'm annoying them, or when they're upset. But…"
You're probably thinking this is some serious BS (bat squash). Ben doesn't talk like this. No one talks like this.
I swear.
Julia scratched the tip of her nose with her pinky. I saw guilt. "But what?"
"I don't know…with you…I know you wrinkle your nose before you cry, I know you your cheeks flush out when you're happy, and I know you bite your lip and pull your hair when you're upset…" I shrugged and leaned against my fist. "Sometimes it honestly feels like I can read your mind."
My idea of mind-reading is sad. I was no Dr. X, no Cable, and no Dr. Fate. But if you'd asked me then, I'd tell you I was freaking Superman.
Julia stared at the double yellow lines on the street. "Oh."
"And…right now I know that you don't want to talk because you won't look at me in the eyes."
Her lips curled up, just a slight bit. "I think…that's just what happens when you get close to a person. Didn't you ever feel that way with Kyle or your parents?"
I felt my forehead crease. I shook my head.
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry."
"Did you want me to buy you more coffee?"
"Nah," she laughed, eyes back on the road. "This is what I get for being an addict."
We watched the scenery pass by. Spring is supposed to be a time of growth, change, sunshine, and butterflies. I think it's overrated. Before I knew it, the car stopped again; I unsnapped the buckle and glanced over. "You coming?"
She shook her head gently. "I've got…um, can you…keep a secret?"
Um, no.
"Sure."
Her grin was unbearable. "Alexander and I have our first date tonight."
I don't remember much after that. The information was like a firecracker: it destroyed me as it crumbled itself from existence. Because Julia's date was the last thing I wanted to think about, it was pretty easy to pretend it didn't exist.
Well, not easy, but manageable.
In some cruel twist of fate, Dr. White wanted us to have an emotional conversation with the group. I repeated what I'd said to Julia, without all the Julia-stuff. If I was going to die, it would not be at the hands of Dr. White. It wouldn't be of my own either, because I knew that Julia would find a way to raise me back from the dead just to kill me again if I ever…
Let's change the subject.
Austin said something about burritos, Stuart about spiders, Kim about wizards, and Willie about the sound of his own voice. Dr. White had a frown that wouldn't wash away when we were done. The lecture following? I don't remember. You try staying focused when your head is on a cloud in a children's cartoon.
I do remember this:
Moving the desks to make room, Austin stuck his face in front of mine. "So, do I have to drag you to Stacks for our group lunch or would you prefer to be strapped to the roof?"
"No, I'll go."
"Wait…" Stuart said. "You're going to eat with us willingly?"
Something about the way he said that made my mouth sour.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
When Stuart paced, it reminded me of a college professor when he's talking to a student about his full potential. I've seen it on those teen dramas. "He must be plotting against us or something. We should make sure he doesn't have explosives attached to him or anything because he might convince us to go somewhere in the big city or the capital and blow up everything and sing a song about it in hell afterward that we'll be stuck listening to for eternity. Well, not me, but you guys would all be screwed and that would just mean more therapy for everybody, assuming that they have therapy in the afterlife…"
I have no room to judge, but Stuart is an odd guy.
"Shut up, Stuart," Austin said. "Let me think."
Kim and Willie skipped over, hand in hand. These two were becoming worse than any couple on The Young and the Restless. "Did Ben just agree to go do something social?" Kim's voice bounced.
"Why are you all being weird?" I darted my eyes toward the group. They had me surrounded. Dr. White was nowhere in sight. Where the fishing rods was he?
Stuart fidgeted with a pencil. "Guys, I think he's been drugged up. Let's lock him in the back and wait it out."
Austin pushed his thumbs up my lids and studied my eyes. Like some rebel from another lifetime, he pushed his glasses up his nose. My face tinged before I saw it. It sounded like a drum with the silencers on.
"What was that?" I said.
"Dude, why are you smiling? I just slapped you!"
He did it again. I attempted to turn my lips down, but they wouldn't budge.
"Is he high?" Kim asked.
I was the opposite of high. My antidepressants were emptied beneath the floorboard of our attic.
"We should get Doctor White," Stuart said. "I don't like this."
"Agreed. Ben shouldn't be this likable. Ever."
I edged myself away from these psychopathic friends of mine. If this was me being likable…
Austin turned to leave, but Willie stood like a mouse in front of the tiger. His skinny brown eyes were bullets. I'd never noticed the odd way his lips moved.
"Stop. It's obvious," Willie said. I can't begin to describe the sound. You'll have to imagine it. In a way, it was like hearing an angel, or at least an angelic devil. Some sort of supernatural figure that's not a vampire. "How do you not see it?"
Kim swallowed. "See what?"
"I told you, it's obvious." He grinned. "Ben's crushing on someone."
The old me would have slapped him. But Willie was the nice one. If the stereotypical quiet guy hated me, it wouldn't be anything new, but it would've hurt. I heard a montage of voices as I jumped from my seat.
"That would explain the smile."
"And the kindness."
"And the friendliness."
"Not to mention the likability."
"The weird way he's been walking."
"He's always walked like that."
"Well, maybe he's been abducted by-"
"Shut up, Stuart."
I pushed over the desk. Well, I didn't, but I like the drama of making it sound like I did something.
"WHAT THE HECK DO YOU KNOW?" I shot.
My knees arched high, I marched out of there. So much for food. I'd even brought in the extra money to pay for the group. Except, the money I brought to get Julia one of those jumbo chocolate cookies would go to complete waste now because I'd have to buy her disgusting coffee, but she wouldn't take it because she'd rather get coffee and chocolate chip cookies from Alexander. I wasn't the only one who could make her smile like that anymore. What I wouldn't give to—
Wait a second…
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