Mockingbird (5 page)

CHAPTER 10

MICHAEL AND MANNERS

IT’S LOUD AT LITTLE KID RECESS too but I like these kids much better. They don’t hurt as much when they run into you. They’re my size or smaller. I look around and smile.

I see a little boy in a red baseball cap that reminds me of Devon’s red Potomac Nationals baseball cap. And I remember seeing that boy at the memorial service for Devon because I remember that cap. He was sitting hunched over on a pew just the way he’s sitting hunched over on a bench right now. I wonder why he’s sitting like that. There’s no teacher next to him so I don’t think he’s in trouble. He’s rubbing his eyes so he’s either sleepy or sad. I think those are the only two things it could be.

I walk closer to see if I can figure out which it is. He looks up when I’m near and I can see his reddish wet face.

He nods.

He doesn’t say anything.

I look around for Josh but then remember that he’s not out at this recess.
Is someone else being mean to you?

He shakes his head.

I put my hands in my pants pocket and rediscover my gummy worms. I pull one out and dangle it in front of him.
Want this? Her name is Laurie.

He looks at it for a moment then takes it but doesn’t put it in his mouth.

It’s not a real worm,
I tell him.
It’s to eat.

He still doesn’t eat it and I’m about to ask him to give it back if he’s not going to eat it but then he says,
Thank you.
I don’t think I can take it back now.

He puts it in his mouth and part of it hangs out as he chews. Finally the worm disappears.
I miss her,
he says.

He shakes his head.
Mommy.

He turns his head to look up at me and moves closer but doesn’t invade my Personal Space. I try to look in his eyes. When I do I’m surprised. They are like Bambi eyes. They’re simple. Like the eyes on the Facial Expressions Chart and they stay still so I can see what’s inside.

Don’t you miss your brother?
he asks. The Bambi eyes do not even blink
.

He shrugs.
You’re not weird to me. I think you’re nice.

Thank you,
I say. I’m remembering Your Manners
.

I hear someone clap. A teacher voice calls out,
Okay class! Two minutes! Then we need to line up!

Very good,
I say,
you remembered Your Manners.

He nods.
Mommy said that’s important.

His lips go down a little at the ends and his head tilts like he doesn’t Get It.
I don’t think that’s why.

You do get a sticker though,
I tell him.

He giggles
. They’re not MY manners.

What?
His Bambi eyes look smiley but also a little . . . something else . . . maybe confused?

Everyone has to learn Your Manners,
I explain.

You’re silly!
He giggles some more.

I Look At The Person. All this time I thought I was learning YOUR Manners when really I was learning MY Manners?
But then . . . everyone’s manners are the same.

Ohhh. Thank you. You’re very helpful.
I think it’ll be easier to learn YOUR Manners—I mean MY Manners—now that I know they belong to me and I’m not trying to learn somebody else’s.

The bell rings and the boy stands up and looks at me with his Bambi eyes. A teacher voice calls out and he turns and starts walking toward it but then he turns around again.
What’s your name?

He nods.
Okay. My name’s Michael.

I hold my right hand up and close and open it three times.

His mouth corners go up and his cheeks get puffy and his Bambi eyes smile. He has cute little dimples and blond wavy hair that drops below his cap. He holds his left hand up and opens and closes it several times back to me.

I wonder if this means I have a friend.

CHAPTER 11

THE DAY OUR LIFE FELL APART

MRS. JOHNSON GIVES ME BACK MY group project. It says
Well Researched
and
Very Interesting
and
Excellent
but at the bottom she also writes,
Why are there capital letters in the middle of your sentences? Common nouns are not capitalized. Only the special words are capitalized.
I look at my paragraph. I did not put capital letters in the middle of the sentences. They are only at the beginning of some words. She has put an X over the H in Heart and written a lowercase h. It doesn’t look right that way. I’m sure she’s wrong about the special words and capital letters even though she’s a teacher. How can any word be more special than Heart?

 

 

At home I think about Devon’s Heart. I sit on the sofa and look at his chest. It’s still under the gray sheet. There are rays of light coming in through the blinds and the dust swirls around in the beams and hits the chest and I wonder if any of the dust particles are Devon and if I can feel him.

I close my eyes and remember some of the things that happened on The Day Our Life Fell Apart. That’s what Dad calls it. After we came home from the hospital that night—with no Devon—Dad was yelling and kicking the furniture and the walls and he started pounding the chest with his fists and shouting,
Why? Why? WHY?
and he threw the woodworking books and Scout manual into Devon’s room and slammed the door and said,
No no no no no,
until I screamed at him to
STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!
Then he put the sheet over the chest and now he never even looks in that corner.

I press myself against the sofa and squish my eyes tight and even though I try not to I remember being at the hospital and how there were sharp lights and siren noises and loudspeaker noises and beeping noises and medicine smells and finally people dressed in green pajamas and paper slippers said to Dad,
We tried but we couldn’t close your son’s chest. His Heart—there was nothing left—there was nothing we could do
.
Nothing we could do.

I’m shaking and sucking my sleeve and I try to stop thinking about The Day Our Life Fell Apart but when I open my eyes Devon’s chest is staring at me so I slide off of the sofa and crawl over to it and pull the sheet up from the bottom and push underneath it and get inside the empty hollow chest and I imagine myself as the Heart. Devon’s Heart. My arms are atria and my legs are ventricles and I pump the blood all around the right way because there
has
to be something I can do. Something I can do. First I pump the blood to the lungs to pick up the oxygen then to the left atrium and ventricle then to the aorta to go all around his body like it should. All my valves are working so the blood flow is right and I can feel the beat and I rock with it because rocking makes me feel alive and I want his chest to be alive. I pump the blood around Devon’s body.
Dev-on. Dev-on. Dev-on.
I say it louder and louder to make it true and my whole body is beating for his louder and louder and wilder and wilder and my head is banging the sides of the chest but I don’t care.
DEV-ON! DEV-ON! DEV-ON!
And I hear Dad’s voice screaming like at the hospital and I don’t want to hear it because I don’t want any part of The Day Our Life Fell Apart to happen again so I focus and become the Heart louder and louder and harder and harder but then I fall out of the chest because there’s no way to close it and I feel Dad grabbing me but all I can do is scream the words from the green hospital people,
I TRIED BUT THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO!

Caitlin! Caitlin!
I hear Dad yelling but I can’t stop crying. I feel him wrap me in my blanket and put me back on the sofa and I feel his arm around me as he sits next to me in the dark. The ringing in my ears finally stops but then the phone rings.

I feel Dad get up and watch him disappear into the kitchen. He comes running back into the living room and turns on the TV and stands there looking at it. He breathes heavily.

The man on Fox Five News has a microphone in his hand and is talking in front of a brick building.
I’m at the courthouse where the remaining killer from the Virginia Dare Middle School shooting has just had his preliminary hearing. The hearing found that there’s enough evidence against him to be put on trial for the murders of teacher Roberta Schneider and young students Julieanne Morris and Devon Smith. That horrific shooting was a devastating blow to this small community—oh! There he is!
The picture jumps around wildly until it’s on a boy in an orange suit with police all around him. He doesn’t look much older than Devon. Mr. Fox Five News shouts as he pushes his microphone past a crowd of people,
What do you have to say for yourself?
The boy in orange stares into the camera and grins a half smile. Then he lifts his handcuffed hands and gives a thumbs-up sign. Dad goes to the bathroom and throws up. The camera switches to a lady sitting inside at the news desk. She says,
We’ll hear more about this story later but isn’t it good that we now have closure?

I suck my sleeve. I don’t think there is anything good about any of it. And I wonder how CLOsure can help. And what it is. When Dad comes back to the living room and turns off the TV I ask him,
What is CLOsure?
He says he has to call a neighbor but when Mrs. Robbins comes over he forgets to ask her what closure means. He just says she is going to take care of me because he has a headache and needs to take a shower. I wonder if it is one of the crying showers. I close my eyes.

I can see the light come on through my eyelids and I hear a creaking sound and then Mrs. Robbins’s shaky voice.
Can I get you something Caitlin? Hot chocolate? Warm milk?

More creaking.
Okay dear.

I look up CLOsure and it says:
the state of experiencing an emotional conclusion to a difficult life event such as the death of loved one.
I do not know how to get to the state of experiencing an emotional conclusion so I ask Mrs. Robbins,
How do I get to the state of experiencing an emotional conclusion to a difficult life event?

Her mouth opens and closes three times and makes a squeaky noise.
Excuse me,
she says, and runs into the kitchen but I can hear her blowing her nose and now I can hear Dad crying in the shower so I put my purple fleece over my head and close my eyes and plug my ears and with my elbows I squeeze my Dictionary tight against my chest.

CHAPTER 12

CLOSURE

I WAIT ALL MORNING FOR MY MRS. Brook time. I run-walk to her room because of No Running In The Halls. I push the door open without even knocking and ask,
How do I get to the state of experiencing an emotional conclusion to a difficult life event?

She stands up from the round table.
What do you mean?

Closure,
I say.
I’m talking about Closure. How do I find it?

I nod about a hundred times because she is a little slow Getting It today.

I Look At The Person. But she’s not answering my question.

I’m still standing.

Okay
, says Mrs. Brook,
I’ll sit.
She puts her hands in front of her on the table and clasps them together. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. Slowly. She closes her eyes.

Is she praying?
This isn’t church,
I remind her.

I know. I’m thinking.
She scratches the part in her hair then puts her hands together again.
Sometimes the process of a funeral and burial and doing things like putting wreaths on grave sites help give Closure.

It’s not Sunday,
I point out
.

I shrug
. We used to go to one with the Boy Scouts but not anymore. Now we just drive past it.

I Look At The Person.
You’re a counselor. I see you.

Sometimes we can do that but I’m really here to help the students. But talking can help both of you a lot,
she says.
Talking about your feelings.