Capítulo 13: I Join the Biggest Group of Losers in History
I had no issues with school the next morning. My computer was surprisingly friendly. Alexa and Siri told me jokes, sending laughter millimeters from my mouth before it died. (I murdered humor when it tried to escape me.) When I checked my email, I found five assignments with red text bolded beside them, a past due symbol in the midst. I closed the tab. I would deal with my Canadian tutors later.
My parents left the house at the crack of dawn for an emergency meeting with Peterson. He'd said something stupid again. I watched the news. His face had replaced mine on the "hot topic" box, something about his latest statement being sexist. I sighed and clicked the power button.
When the clock above our television struck twelve, I knew I was in trouble. By one o'clock, a heart attack built up. Two-thirty: there are no words.
That's when someone named "Realization" thumped me on the head and shouted, "ANYONE HOME?"
Had I promised Julia White I'd go to therapy? Sure. But I had the power here. I could easily decide not to show up and… No. Julia was blackmailing me. She could blab that big mouth of hers at any moment and sell me out.
A car pulled into the driveway and made up my mind for me.
Must be Ed, I thought. Ready to drag me out by my hoodie. I poked my head out the door, caught a glimpse, and reared back inside.
Back up.
The image drew the bold lines of a coloring book. This car was not Ed's.
A shiny paint job sparkled off the hood. I don't remember the exact color, Metallica bright? It can be whatever you want. The color doesn't matter and the shade isn't the point. So shut up.
Here's what I'm trying to get at.
The passenger seat window slid down. A face popped out, dark brown hair hung over the shoulder.
"You coming?" Julia White asked.
She was good.
I snatched a backpack Mom had bought for me the other day, remembering her middle school speech about fitting in, insisting that normal teenagers carry around backpacks. My shoes squished through the grass of our lawn. Snow puddled over my socks. I didn't care.
I grabbed the backseat handle of Julia's car. It locked at my grasp. I glanced through the glass and found a plate of chocolate chip cookies wrapped in plastic…in my seat.
"What are you doing?" Julia shoved the front car door open.
I stared at the empty leather.
She glanced at her radio. "We're gonna be late."
My chest did a little somersault. I never realized how big the windshield is from the front of a car. Compared to the back seat of my limo, I swear it was like seeing an original painting versus a print-out in a textbook.
The locks snapped beside me. Julia yanked on the gearstick.
"Shouldn't you be in school or something?" I questioned
Maybe I should've asked for this valuable information before climbing inside this death rocket. Did my parents know about this? What about Ed? Julia must've worked something out. I would not have guessed Julia White as one to shred rules.
She maneuvered her hands and the car turned, glancing at me between lights. "I worked it out so this is my off-mod." Like I was supposed to know what that meant. "I used to use this time to finish up Chemistry, but it was more important to make sure you didn't break our deal."
I studied this girl. Not an ounce of sarcasm or lip curling to be found.
Silence. For the next few miles… I think. I don't know how long a mile is, or what it feels like.
Salt and pepper shakers prickled my thoughts. Somehow, my tiny person told me what Julia was thinking. I knew why she showed up to take me to therapy. I needed to correct her.
"I wasn't going to skip today."
Like she'd believe me. I didn't believe me.
I waited for a smart comeback. Instead, she focused on the road and breathed with the steadiness of a bear in hibernation. It seemed she didn't know how to respond.
Finally, something we could agree on.
The car smoothed to a stop. I couldn't help noticing a lack of nausea in the pit of my stomach, a feeling I often experienced with Ed behind the wheel. What am I saying? Am I really complementing this girl's driving skills? Maybe I forgot to take my antidepressants this morning. Tiny Person doesn't like that.
We headed towards the wonderful room of therapeutic torture. Austin was hunched over by the window. Dr. White sat behind his desk, typing a bunch of nonsense letters into his computer.
I waited for the chubby blond kid to see me and freak out, but Austin gave a military nod. My eyes met the bugs behind the frames of his glasses. His hands scribbled furiously across a shred of paper. Probably math homework. I imagine I look like that when tortured with a calculator.
My hand felt violated. Julia's fingers had wrapped around mine. After slipping the tray of cookies onto Doctor White's desk, she forced me down beside her, across from Austin. I glanced at her.
Whatever my face did, Julia ignored it.
Next came the girl with blonde hair that clashed with her dark skin. She'd wrapped it up in a big bun. I searched my head for a name… Darn my stupidity. She squished past me and snuck in on Julia's other side.
Julia's shoulders relaxed. "Hey, Kim."
Kim!
"Hi," Kim whispered.
Kim. Dyed blonde hair, always up, dark skin, small, large turtlenecks, and... fourteen? Kim. Kim. Kim. Come on, you can remember this. Tiny Person, you good-for-nothing stupid piece of banana split.
Kim played with a strand of her hair. Her free hand wrapped around herself. What did Austin say her deal was again? Right. Kim hears voices in her head. Schizophrenia. She'd been born with too many tiny people.
Someone coughed. A child sat four chairs from me. How had he snuck in here so quick? I couldn't remember this guy's name, either. I focused on his mini-bucket haircut, the fact that he had to be in middle school, and his slanted eyes.
What was his name? Started with a "W," I think.
"Hey, Willie," Julia said.
Maybe she was a psychic like her father, knowing what my tiny person wanted. Even when I didn't.
Dr. White stood up from his desk, but he was interrupted by scuttling. A boy slipped inside the door and dropped into a chair, "S-sorry I'm late, there was a p-problem with the bus. I had to go on foot."
I thought this kid had a stutter. It turns out he was just cold. He was the one who was afraid of his own shadow. What was his name…
"What happened, Stuart?" Austin snorted, "The bus driver run out of Kleenex?"
What was this kid's name? I could've sworn… It was on the tip of my tongue. He was scared of everything. Don't discuss death with him…
"Austin, leave Stuart alone," Julia said.
I give up. This kid's name remained a secret to Tiny Person. Just as fate intended.
"Welcome," Dr. White began. "Let's get started…"
He talked about how great we were and stuff. I quizzed myself on names. Which one was Stuart again?
"Alright, I know we were going to start on the new unit today, but go ahead and split yourselves up in discussion groups of two again," Dr. White said, sending a glance in my direction. "I think we'll start the new program tomorrow. Yes, that's what we'll do."
Dr. White likes to hear himself talk.
My eyes unconsciously flew towards Austin. He'd already seated himself next to the nervous kid…STUART. Julia spoke something into Kim's ear, and Kim fled towards the child with selective mutism…William! They reminded me of a yin yang.
Austin and Stuart caught my attention. I lifted my fingers in a simulation of a wave. They showed no acknowledgment, which was weird because their eyes drilled holes into mine. Austin straightened his glasses.
"Ben?" Julia's voice pulled me out of my trance.
"What's everyone's problem?" I blurted.
Julia followed my gaze. Her lips curled inside her mouth.
"What?" I asked.
"Well…"
"Well, what?"
She sucked her bottom lip farther towards her tongue than I knew to be humanly possible. I wondered if it could come clean off. "Since you stopped showing up, I think they think that you think you're too good for them."
I have no idea what she just said.
I shook Tiny Person off and spoke, "Oh."
"They'll come around."
I paused.
Wait, what if they thought that I thought I was above them when I'd stopped showing up? I thought therapy was stupid, but it had nothing to do with the fact that I thought I was too good for them. My presence dug a trench below them. They all knew what was wrong with them. I was nobody.
Woah, was that empathy?
No way, it's a glitch. Yet, a part of me wanted them to know that I don't have that kind of pride.
"Maybe we could go to the hangout after therapy today," Julia said.
I hate my naivety whenever this girl opens her mouth.
"What hangout?" I asked.
"Just the little cafe up the street."
"Stacks?"
"Yeah. Have you been there?"
"No," I lied.
She laughed. There was an edge in there, sharp glass mixed with hot torches. It was genuine at the same time, with fuzzy teddy bears. Maybe I'm insane. Laughter sounds like hiccups. That doesn't mean it's evil.
Julia asked, "Well, do you want to go when we're done? We don't have to sit with everyone else if you don't want to."
My parents would surely be upset if I didn't go home right after therapy. I said the most logical thing I could think of.
"Sure."
But I'd have to talk to people… People who hate me.
I reached for an index card. We were supposed to write about our feelings without using the word "good." I had a better idea.
Julia's eyelashes pressed on her forehead. "What are you doing?"
I scribbled down some words: "hate," "me," "you," "sucks," etc. I went through them again. Then I erased, wrote again, and rearranged the letters into a logical order. I had to make this sound right. My voice was going to ruin it already.
"Ben?"
"Just writing some stuff down. If I don't, I'll say it wrong later."
I need another word for "laughed" ... guffawed? Sure. Julia guffawed. "That's usually how it works. But who are you going to talk to?"
"Well. You said the whole freaking group is going to be there, so I might as well make nice with the weirdos. Looks like I'm going to be stuck here a while."
Maybe I was angry. My words sounded less robotic than usual. Don't rip on me and think that I'm making this up. I don't want any more hate mail saying I'm not following the program of disorders right. My brain is random. I do what Tiny Person wants.
Do you have any theories about me? I'd love to hear them.
I scrawled the rest of my heart on the piece of paper and folded it up. When the session ended, Julia and I lingered behind to help reset the classroom. Julia told Dr. White about our plans to meet the group.
Doctor White cracked a grin. If he had suspicions about my parents' approval of this outreach program, he didn't say anything. He slipped Julia five bucks. "Bring me back a coffee."
Julia scrunched the bill. She inspected the plate of chocolate chip cookies on Dr. White's desk. The seat-snatchers from earlier.
"Do you want me to throw the rest of these out?"
He shook his head. "Everything's fine in here, Julia. You two go have fun before they finish and Austin ditches you."
One conversation about coffee-obsession later, Julia and I were off.
Stacks is an interesting place. It's not a restaurant, but it's not fast food either. It's more like a coffee shop without the college kids. I find it fascinating it gets so many customers.
I clutched the notecard in my hand. The door chime shrieked out when Julia led me inside. Sure enough, sitting in the second booth from the end… the whole clan. Austin hunched over a bowl of carb-overloads. Kim picked at a piece of toast. Willie scribbled onto a napkin. Stuart's eyes peeled on his dish, inspecting it like a detective in a crime novel.
Time to back out. How far away is China?
Julia waved towards them, chugging down her first coffee.
"...I'm telling you, there's something wrong with this shrimp," Stuart said. "That is a very unnatural pink."
I approached them. Stuart's voice died, the clicked sounds of eating mouths hushed over.
"Hi," I said.
Julia leaned against the wall behind me. I stood by the table. From the countless television shows I've seen with food places, I realized I was in the waiter's position. A waiter with lines scripted by the best writers in Hollywood. Interesting.
Austin kept his eyes in his food. "Hey."
I unfolded my notecard. The thing looked like a pile of scribbles with everything but the kitchen sink.
"So…um…I'm Ben." Their eyes settled on me and wished my death. I continued to read, "I've…always been told there were things wrong with me. I'm sure you'll come up with theories of your own too."
I paused. What the hiccup did I write in here? This was chicken scratch.
My eyes scanned the page. "I've always been able to depend on one fact: I don't need help. And I…um…don't like being told that I need something I don't. I'm tired of moving objects… you know, around therapy tables…listening to weird lectures. Explaining myself. But you win now, because it sounds like…I'm going to therapy now and… We can make this miserable for each other or just get to. No. Through. Get through it and get along while we have to."
I folded the card and shoved it in my pocket. Did I even say it? All I heard was the drum in my head. Their mouths hung open. Behind me, Julia clapped her hands in a silent bravo. Looking back, I could've sworn she was snorting back laughter.
"Dude," I recognized Austin's voice. "That. Speech. Was totally, an-"
"Epic fail," Kim said, an emotionless gaze fixed on the wall.
"Exactly."
William shrugged, eyes peered for me when his face cracked into a grin. It was like he said, in a twisted form of comfort, I've heard worse.
The same could not be said for Stuart. "Yeah, you think that reading off of some card like some Google Translate app, no offense Willie, is going to win us over? I think he runs a cult, Austin. A cult for people to get brainwashed into his psychotic mind. What if he's one of Hitler's descendants… Yes, that must be it. Convincing words, bad intentions. Maybe you're the one who poisoned my shrimp. You're worse than a spider."
Austin cackled.
"Hey!" Stuart turned on him. "Spiders are truly menacing creatures. With the way they suck the blood out of-"
"Please, don't talk about blood," Kim said.
William held up a finger. He slipped out his phone, sending a message through the airwaves.
Would you all please shut up...exclamation point…:-) ;-)
Austin deleted the message and sneered.
I sighed. I only had one way left to win them over. Communication was never going to work. I dug inside my pocket and pulled out a couple of twenties.
"I'll pay for your meal," I said.
Austin eyed his friends, face broken into a massive grin. "Plus dessert."
"Guess so."
He scooched over.
As the next round of shrimp arrived, Julia joined us and muttered something about Austin's amazing emotional empathy. The meal passed by with conversations concerning Stuart, last semesters of school, and colleges being picky about ACT scores. I paid the waiter well in tips before we left, eying the faces around me. My chest had a funny feeling.
With forty-two dollars and nineteen cents, I'd renewed my premium membership into the biggest group of losers in history.
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