Crazy (22 page)

SEXY LADY
:
You're still hot, Jason. Dim, but hot.

LAUGH TRACK
:
(Laughter).

I'm wracking my brain trying to make sense of it. A few days ago I was wearing high-water jeans and Dad's old boat shoes. Now I'm wearing jeans that fit, a new T-shirt, a pair of new running shoes, and the hunting jacket, all appearing out of that hall closet in the Lynches' house like some magic-hat trick, and I have a large sack full of food, and money to buy even more food if I need it. It's insane.

I think about my dad. I called Sam several times this weekend, and he said Dad was doing fine. He said he's been transferred to St. Mary's Hospital. I wonder if he, too, is getting lots to eat. I wonder if he gets a new set of clothes.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Oh sure he does. The kind with the extra-long sleeves that cross and tie around the back. He wasn't transferred; he
was committed. Let's get real here. Isn't that what you're doing now? Getting real?

Hey, don't get mad at me. You're still here, aren't you? I haven't gotten rid of you, have I?

SEXY LADY
:
You need us. Just remember that. We're here for a reason.

I watch Mrs. Lynch and Gwen until they ride out of sight, and then I just stand on the sidewalk, frozen. I don't want to go inside the school, but I don't know where to run to if I don't go. I can't move. I just can't move.

CRAZY GLUE
:
You're coming unglued, goob.

Someone tell me what to do. Come on—one of you tell me what to do. Should I run? Tell me. Come on, Crazy Glue. You're such a big mouth. Tell me. FBG with a mustache, you always have good advice. What should I do? Where should I go? Aunt Bee? Sexy Lady? Hey You—do you know?

"Whoa, Pope-a-Dopester! You're back, man. Why didn't you call and let us know?"

I whip around and there's Haze loping toward me, coming from the parking lot where his ratty old van is shivering and shaking and coughing.

I'm confused because I'm so relieved to see him; yet I'm still pissed at him for what he and the others did to me. But since I don't know what else to do, and none of you are giving me any help, I say, "Hey! Looks like your car is sick over there."

Haze grins. "Yeah, what is that? I swear it's gonna explode on me someday."

He catches up to me and throws his arm around my shoulder and just like that we walk together toward the school.

CRAZY GLUE
:
It was that easy all along, goob.

"So, how's that wing of yours, Popester?"

I lift the arm still in its sling. "Good. It's better every day. I got stabbed with a switchblade, though," I say. I smile 'cause I know this will get a rise out of Haze, and I want it to for some reason.

Haze takes his arm off my shoulder and steps away from me. "Are you shittin' me?"

CRAZY GLUE
:
Bingo!

Haze looks so stunned.

"This kid in the foster home I'm staying in stabbed me in the stomach." I shrug, like it's no big deal, like it's just part of the foster home experience, but then I think of Reed, and the words "there one minute and gone the next" pop into my head, and I stop smiling.

CRAZY GLUE
:
You don't fool us. You're so proud of your war wound.

Haze puts his arm back over my shoulder. "Dude, you gotta be one messed-up hombre, huh? Even my parents and their shit can't compete with all
your
shit, man!" He jostles me and lets go.

Am I messed up? What's the difference between being crazy and messed up, anyway? Is there a difference?

CRAZY GLUE
:
It's a matter of degree.

FBG WITH A MUSTACHE
:
Just exactly how real do you think we are?

We reach the steps of the school, and Haze turns and looks straight at me. "Hey, sorry about what happened about your dad, okay? I mean, man, I'm really sorry. I hope he gets better really fast, and if there's anything I can do—I mean, I guess you think I've done too much already."

CRAZY GLUE
:
He could have pushed him under a train. That would have been worse.

AUNT BEE
:
Oh, he's all right. Give him a break.

"Yeah, well, thanks, Haze. Thanks for the apology." I nod and press my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

Haze frowns. "So, is he okay? Is he liking his new digs and all, or is that a dumb question?"

I'm about to answer, but then I notice he's shaved off his beard and he doesn't have any makeup on.

"Hey, what's with your face? Where are the tears?"

I expect Haze to make a joke, but instead he shakes his head and looks at the ground. "For your dad, man," he says. "For both your parents."

I blink. "What?"

He shrugs and gives me this lopsided smile. "Okay, it wasn't a tattoo, just makeup, but teardrop tattoos, real ones, they're like some gang symbol for how many people you murdered. I couldn't go around wearing that. Not now, not anymore." He heads up the steps and I follow. "I got rid of the tears and shaved the beard out of respect for your parents."

I'm not sure what to say. I'm too stunned.

CRAZY GLUE
:
How about "Whoa, man!
"

"Thanks," I say.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Lame!

Haze reaches for the door and opens it, then pauses. "Maybe you don't want to hear this, okay, but after what happened that afternoon with you and your dad—I mean, the way you protected him and locked yourself in the bathroom and all, and seeing how important he is to you, it kinda woke me up. I mean, I only wore the tears and the beard in the first place to get back at my parents for all the hell they've been putting me and my sister through the past couple of years, but, hey, they don't deserve all the crap I've been giving them. My mom doesn't deserve it, you know? I need to start showing her some respect, too. Right?" Haze nods, more to himself than at me, and answers his own question. "Right."

I
T DOESN'T
take me long before I'm feeling overwhelmed in my classes. Every teacher hands me a paper listing all the work I've missed since being out. I'll be playing catch-up for the rest of the year and probably into the summer.

I'm worried about seeing Shelby in Biology, but she's not in class. I guess I'm glad. I don't think I'm ready to face her, yet. I think about the Dear Mouse letter I e-mailed and I wonder if she's Tattletale.

In History, Mrs. Trudell hands me back the essay exam I took just before I stopped coming to school and says in front of the class, "Jason, would you care to explain this—this disaster to me? You've got no punctuation, no spacing, and all your words are written in lowercase. I didn't even bother to read this mess. I gave you a zero." She stands in front of my desk, holding out the paper. I look at my tiny scrawl. The words all run together, no beginning and no end. That's what I tell her. I say, "I don't like beginnings and I don't like endings, so I just wrote middles." I take the paper from her.

The whole class laughs. Someone nudges me from behind and I hear his laughter.

CRAZY GLUE
:
You're even funny when you're serious, goob. Or is this just crazy?

LAUGH TRACK
:
(Exaggerated laughter).

The laugh track's laughing, so I'm going with funny.

The morning drags on, and then at lunchtime Haze catches up with me again. "Today's Gomez day, remember?" he says.

I had forgotten, but I nod and follow him to Dr. Gomez's office, glad not to have to get a tray of food from the cafeteria first. I have my own sack lunch now.

The first thing I notice when we enter the office is Shelby's mural. She's painted over her rainbow and has created a darker, more surreal painting. There's black water with foamy waves and a threatening sky, purple mountains and an iceberg and a single black tree, and a single sexless person standing on the iceberg, arms raised to the sky. All of this swirls here and arches there and forms ragged peaks everywhere. It has a frenzied and desperate feel to it, somehow. It makes my heart race. I don't like it. I turn to Haze. "When did Shelby do this?"

Haze flops onto one of the floor pillows. "Over the past couple of weeks. She must have finished it this weekend, though. That iceberg wasn't there last Thursday." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a can of Mountain Dew, then pops it open and takes a gulp.

I move to join him, but then Pete enters the room. When he sees me, his eyes water and he hugs me without saying anything. He just holds me in this fierce grip. It makes my bad arm throb.

"Yeah, okay, thanks, Pete," I say, squirming. He lets go of me.

He smiles at me and rubs his head. "I didn't know you were back. So, how you doin'? We tried to visit you in the hospital, but you had already left. We didn't know where you had gone. They wouldn't tell us anything."

"Yeah, me either, hardly," I say, smiling. I'm surprised that I'm so happy to see him. He looks the same as always, bald, dressed in his white T-shirt and jeans, and carrying some handmade African cloth thing for a backpack—same old Pete. I like that not everything changed while I was gone.

I tell Pete about living with the Lynches; Haze tells him about my getting stabbed; I tell them both about how it happened. I feel I need to tell this story, for some reason.

Then Dr. Gomez bustles in with her arms loaded down with books and papers, and a mug of coffee in one hand and her lunch in another.

She sees me and says, "Oh! Oh!" She rushes over to her desk to drop her load; then she rushes back over to give me a hug. She smothers me in heavy perfume and color—the yellow, orange, green, and purple of her
flowing blouse—but I don't mind. It makes me think of Sexy Lady.

SEXY LADY
:
But I'm still prettier, right?

All this hugging feels good. I've missed hugs. My mom used to hug me a lot.

CRAZY GLUE
:
You were always embarrassed by it.

AUNT BEE
:
Shh! He's having a rare memory of his mother.

She releases me and I push my tongue up against the roof of my mouth. It doesn't help. I know my face is burning.

"I only just got in," Dr. Gomez says. "I didn't know you were back. It's so good to see you. How are you? How's your dad?"

"Okay, I guess. They moved him to another hospital."

"Good, he'll get the help he needs. You look good—taller."

CRAZY GLUE
:
The hem of your jeans actually comes all the way down to your shoes for a change, that's why.

"So, sit down and tell us how you're doing," Dr. Gomez says. She grabs her coffee off her desk and sits on the pillow next to the one I choose.

She looks around and asks, "Where's Shelby?" Then she twists all the way around to look at the mural. "I see she finished the new mural. It looks wonderful."

We have a quick discussion about Shelby. Nobody has seen her and we all hope her mother is doing all right. This gets everybody, especially Dr. Gomez, onto
the topic of our mothers. After naming something we're each grateful for (I choose lunch sacks), Haze talks about why he shaved his beard and got rid of the makeup and says he has a newfound respect for both his parents because of me.

LAUGH TRACK
:
Aw, isn't that sweet.

"That must make you feel pretty good," Dr. Gomez says to me. "Look at the effect you've had. Already something good has come out of a tough situation. We should remember that. There's always something good."

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!