Glimpse (16 page)

“Dean? I'm Dr. Mickelsen.” He extended his hand. “I'm glad you decided to join us today. I've spoken with your dad, and he's given me a bit of information about how you're doing.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, shaking his hand. Nerves twisted my stomach. “Um… when did you talk to my dad?”

If my dad had talked to him yesterday, then Dr. Mickelsen would assume I was just some poor kid who had seen more than my fair share of trauma this past week. But if Dad talked to him this morning, the doctor would know about the whole spider incident and think I was some nutcase who went around stabbing insects with forks.

“I just talked to him this morning.” He smiled and gestured to the chairs. “Shall we begin?

This morning? Great. He thinks I'm nuts
.

When we took our chairs, Dr. Mickelsen plopped back into his, opened up a leather-bound notepad, and then looked around expectantly.

“Who'd like to begin?” he said. Without pausing, he turned to me. “Dean? How about you? Since this is your first session, perhaps you could introduce yourself and maybe tell us just a bit about how you're feeling.”

I knew everyone in the circle. Lisa and Colin were on my right. Eric Feldman and a couple of his loser followers were on my left. I didn't really see how introducing myself was going to be helpful. I glanced at my watch. It was already after ten, and all I could think about was Becky. Was she okay? Did she catch another spider, something even more dangerous than her stupid black widow?

Is there something worse than a black widow?

“Dean?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” I took a breath. “I'm Dean Curse. I… um… I know everyone in this circle, and I'm feeling a bit, well, confused. Thank you.”

“Thank you for that introduction, Dean. I think you'll find that confusion is a fairly common emotion for people who have experienced what you have gone through.” His gaze tracked around the group. “Anyone else?”

Eric put up his hand.

“Oh, brother,” Colin muttered. “Here we go.”

“Mr. Blane,” the shrink said, pointing his mechanical pencil at Colin. “Rule number one in this circle is trust. Trust that this is a judgment-free zone, and that anything you say or do here is free from ridicule.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Sorry, sir.”

“Go ahead, Eric,” Dr. Mickelsen said.

“I don't just feel confused. I feel really, really angry.” There were no tears, but Eric swiped the sleeve of his shirt across his face anyway. He went on for another fifteen minutes about how traumatized he was from the accident. He finished his little sob-fest with, “Why did this have to happen to one of the nicest teachers at school?”

I didn't mean to, but a laugh escaped my lips. It was just so pathetic the way he was going on.

Eric turned in his seat and glared. All traces of sorrow evaporated. “Something funny, Curse?”

“Why are you even here, Eric? You weren't near the explosion and you didn't even like Mrs. Farnsworthy.”

“That's not true!” Eric leaned forward. “She was my favorite teacher.” He turned back to the doctor. “I'm angry that something this terrible happened to her. She was so kind.”

“Oh, please,” I mumbled to myself. I shook my head and turned back to Dr. Mickelsen. He looked at me, at Eric, and then scribbled something on the pad.

“You bring up an excellent point, Eric.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Actually, anger is the topic I wanted us to focus on today. It's entirely normal for people to have feelings of rage when they experience traumatic events.” He looked around the group. “Some people direct their anger toward other people, some go and vandalize property, and others…” His gaze landed on me and stopped. “Others take their rage out on animals.”

“Animals?” Lisa looked disgusted.

Colin glanced between me and Dr. Mickelsen and whispered, “Why's he looking at you?”

“Does anyone else have any problems with anger?” He quickly looked around the group and paused on Rodney for a moment before settling on me again. “Dean? How about you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I'm not angry.” If there was one thing I had learned from my dad, it was that counseling sessions ended early when no one shared their feelings and lasted hours when people did. I glanced at my watch. 11:23. I hated that I couldn't be near Becky right now. If the spider wasn't the cause of her death, I only had a few hours to help her.

“Animals can seem easy targets,” the doctor continued. “But to hurt one, or kill one—”

“Are you suggesting someone here killed an animal? Because they were angry?” Lisa leaned forward and scowled around the circle. “Who?”

Eric pointed at me. “Dean's the one who looks the angriest. I bet he did it.”

“I'm not angry,” I growled.

“Dean wouldn't do that,” Lisa added. She looked at me. “Right?”

I gave my head a quick shake.

Eric stood up and took a couple steps across the circle toward me. “Obviously you did it. We can all see the way the doctor is looking at you.”

“Eric,” Dr. Mickelsen said. “I think it's best if you take your—”

“What?” Eric added, leaning over me. “You're so tough you have to kill little puppies?”

“Puppies?” Lisa's eyes widened to the size of lightbulbs.

“I didn't kill any puppies,” I said. I felt my face flush. “And I'm not angry.” My hands started shaking, and I felt rage building inside me. Not just toward Eric, but toward the entire situation. My sister could very well be lying in a ditch someplace bleeding to death. I needed to be with her, not here.

“Yeah, that's why you look so scared.” He poked me in the chest. “You know who the kindest and most gentle person I knew was?” Eric added. “Mrs. Farnsworthy.”

“Mr. Feldman,” the doctor said sternly. “Please take your seat so we can cont—”

“She wouldn't hurt a fly,” Eric added. He reached out and poked me again. “You're sick, Curse. You're really si—”

I don't really remember jumping up, and I don't really remember my fist connecting with the side of Eric's face. But that's exactly what happened. One second he was leaning over me, and the next he was lying on his back on the ground and I was staring down at him, stunned. The circle grew by at least a foot as everyone pushed back their chairs. Except for Colin. He stood up and started clapping as though he'd just seen the final act of an award-winning play.

The doctor was on his feet too, but he wasn't clapping. He glanced from Eric to me and then back to Colin. “Take your seat, Colin,” he said finally. “And Dean, I need you—”

“I'm not angry!” I jerked my head from one person to the next. “It was a spider.” I looked at Lisa. “My sister had a black widow that escaped from the jar. That's what I stabbed.”

“You stabbed a spider?” Lisa asked.

“A poisonous spider,” I said. “One that can
kill
.”

“You stabbed it?” Colin dropped back into his chair and clapped his hands together, looking far too impressed. “Awesome.”

“It was late,” I said desperately, my eyes on Lisa. “I couldn't get it into the kill jar. And the first thing I grabbed was a fork.”

I heard scribbling behind my shoulder and turned to see that Dr. Mickelsen had taken his seat again and was jotting down notes at blinding speed.

“Thank you for sharing, Dean,” he said. “So if I understand you correctly,” he looked down at his notes, “you got up in the middle of the night, tried to force a spider into what you call a
kill jar
, and when it wouldn't do as you wanted, you stabbed it with a… um…” His fingers traced the words. “Oh, yes. You stabbed it with a fork.” He looked up from his notepad. “Do I have that right?”

I glared at Dr. Mickelsen. I was tired of trying to defend myself, and what was the point anyway? My behavior lately had been too erratic, too suspicious not to cause alarm. If I were a psychologist, I would think I was nuts too.

I knew what I was about to do next would only convince my father that I needed to be committed. The best way to get him off my back was to make it through this session without any more incidents.

But I could only think of my sister. I could only think of how I had failed with Mr. Utlet—I wasn't going to fail with Becky too.

I gave my chair a kick. It skidded out of the way, and I bolted for the door. The last thing I saw as I ran out was Dr. Mickelsen's surprised but strangely satisfied expression as he jotted down even more notes.

 

I burst through the door at full speed, raced down the corridor, and rushed out of the building. It wasn't until I stopped to get my bearings and let my eyes adjust to the light that I realized Lisa and Colin were right behind me.

“We figured you might need some company in whichever insane asylum they decide to send you to,” Colin said.

“Thanks, guys,” I managed. I glanced around the mostly deserted parking lot and considered our options. We were downtown. I'd never walked home from this far away, and I couldn't work out how long it would take us to get there if we ran—more time than we had, I figured.

Lisa seemed to be thinking the same thing, and after a couple seconds she gestured to the left. “We run to the mall and catch a bus. We'll be back at your place just after noon.”

We took off, racing across parking lots, cutting through yards, hopping fences, and ducking down alleys. The only time we slowed down was when we hit an intersection that was too busy to rush through. We made it to our stop just as the bus was shutting its doors. Lisa slammed on the glass until the grumbling driver let us in.

For twenty-five minutes, I didn't move a muscle, except for the trembles I couldn't control.

 

***

 

I burst into the kitchen and startled Mom as she was wiping down the counter.

“Good God, Dean, you scared me,” she said. She fanned herself with the washcloth and then added, “What happened? The therapist just called and said you three—”

“Where's Becky?” I asked, cutting my mom off and glancing in the living room.

“She's off looking for another insect for her collection.”

“She's what!? You told me that she was staying home all day!
You
said she had too much packing to do and that she wasn't going to leave the house.”

Mom frowned at my tone. “It's important to her, Dean.” She folded the dish towel and hung it on the handle to the oven. “She took her net to the park. I'm sure she'll be back before—”

I spun toward the backdoor and sprinted out of the house. Lisa and Colin were right behind me. The park was only three blocks away, but I knew it would be packed with people during the summer holidays and with such perfect weather. I glanced at my watch.

“It's 12:25,” I huffed. “We don't have much time.”

 

***

 

As expected, the park was crowded. I shielded my eyes from the sun and tried to spot my sister. “We have to split up,” I said. “Lisa, you have the phone. If we don't find her by two, call 911 and tell them there's been an accident at the park.” She nodded. “She's looking for bugs, guys. She'll have her net. Look for a girl with a net.”

Colin was too out of breath to speak, but he nodded his head and jogged off to the right. Lisa went left, and I headed straight for the creek.

“Becky!” I called as I ran around the park. I probably circled it at least a dozen times, shouting at girls who looked like Becky, only to find out they weren't her. I checked the whole length of the creek and all the bushes. I ran into Colin and Lisa twice while we were doing our laps. They were having as little luck as I was.

By 2:15, my whole body was trembling. I looked to my left and saw a hill that might give me a better view of the park and sprinted to the top. A man and woman were filming the view with a small handheld video camera.

“Becky!” I called again.

The man must have heard the desperation in my voice and turned to me. “Did you lose someone, kid?”

“My sister,” I said without looking up. I didn't dare stop scanning the park.

“What does she look like?” the woman asked, suddenly by my side.

“S… she's eleven,” I said. “She has frizzy hair, and she'll be holding a bug-catching net.”

“There's a girl with a net,” the man said, pointing off in the distance.

I peered toward where he had indicated, but saw nothing.

“There, kid. Right there.” He crouched slightly so his head was at the same level as mine. And then I saw her. I had never been happier to see Becky's frizzy head. She was swinging her net through the air, following an insect that was flying just out of her reach. She was moving back and forth, headed straight for the street. My gaze shifted to the end of the road just as a black BMW squealed around the corner. Like I had with Mr. Utlet, I saw what was going to happen. This time, though, I sprang forward even as the colors around the park drained away, leaving the once bright scene tombstone gray.

My legs burned but didn't slow. I wanted to scream and warn Becky to stop chasing that stupid bug, but if I shouted I'd have to slow down to catch my breath. I could run or scream, but not both. As I moved closer, I saw the guy driving the car that was hurtling toward my sister. He was fiddling with something, his attention split between the road and whatever was on the seat beside him. I wasn't going to make it; there was no way. Becky was at the far end of the park and the BMW was going to pass me any second.

Suddenly it made sense. Mr. Vidmar's hospital visits, his stints in the psych wards… people thought he was trying to kill himself, but he wasn't. He was trying to save people.
The Society of Sacrifice
. People who sacrificed themselves for others. Mr. Vidmar wasn't just trying to save the people in his visions. He put his life in jeopardy to save them. When he jumped off bridges, got electrocuted, and fought off criminals, he was doing that to save lives. He put his life in jeopardy to save
me
. And the color fading away moments before Mr. Utlet died—moments before my sister might die—was a warning… A warning telling me to act.