The Unlikely Hero of Room 13B (13 page)

“Yeah, I don’t know why I blabber so much to you. Maybe because at Group, with the others, you’re so solid, you know.”

Solid? Him?

“Definitely not just another
pretty boy
.”

“Wait, are you saying I’m
not
pretty?”

“Stop fishing, Adam.”

He could hear the smile in her voice.

“And hey, maybe I’m kind of hoping that you’ll talk too. Talk to me, Adam. It helps. Whenever I tell you something, you’re just so … well, it helps.
You
help.”

His face warmed. It was her lip gloss that smelled like
peaches. He remembered now from when he’d hugged her in the cemetery. That didn’t mean that
she
would taste like peaches.

“Adam?”

“I’m here, sorry.”

“Look, maybe I trust you, and maybe you could trust me too?”

Did he? Was it about trust? He got lost in the
wanting
again. It was just always so right there with her. He had wanted to kiss her
so much
. Maybe she would still taste like peaches, even if it was only lip gloss that made her
smell
like peaches. “There
is
something—something I haven’t even told Chuck.”

“Not even Chuck?”

“No, not even Chuck. Well, I started, but I stopped. It’s complicated because it’s not about me, not directly. Sort of like with your mom.”

“I’m here. I
get
complicated. I promise.”

“So yeah, she, my mom, is getting these, like, anonymous letters and they’re sicko and they freak her out. And I, I’ve got to say they’re sort of freaking me out too. It’s … they’re that bad.”

The relief was faster than instant.

And relief trumped shame. Relief even trumped his fear of her reaction. So much relief from letting go of one dirty little secret? Or were all secrets dirty? Maybe even the clean ones were like magnets inevitably attracting slithery things.

He was stunned.

Adam
told
and the world didn’t wobble. Robyn did not
mock him, or threaten unwanted action. The secret lost its power,
poof
.

“Okay, that’s sick, Adam. Way harsh. How many so far?”

“Three or four or five or more. I don’t know. She used to try to hide them. I just saw a bit of one. It was like in the old serial-killer movies, you know.” Adam made an executive decision
not
to go into how he fished out shreds from the garbage and then forgot about them in his pocket. “Like when the deranged guy cuts out words from newspapers and magazines and glues them onto the paper.”

“Wow, that’s extra creepy. Do they threaten her? Like, really technically threaten?”

“Yeah, well, maybe no,” he said. “They’re nasty, but not directly, I don’t think. I haven’t seen them really, but it mainly sounds like they call her terrible things and tell her to die, but not like he is going to kill her.”

“Or she,” corrected Robyn. “Did you Google ‘threatening letters’ or whatever?”

“No, see, I can’t. Only at school. And I—”

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot. Hang on. Let’s just see, shall we? I’m going online now. I have a new iPad! Daddy got it for me the day I got off meds. Cool, eh?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Again, the scraping inside his stomach. “You deserve it.”

There was a pause. “Adam, I started off way worse. I was in residence, remember? For months.” Another pause. “But you’re going to do great too and I swear you’re, like, ten feet taller. Hell of a Group, all in all, eh? Here it is, I’m looking up ‘receiving anonymous letters.’ ”

“What?!”

“On the iPad. I’m looking up—”

“No, the other thing. The taller thing.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. It’s
your
body. Snooki’s noticed.”

“She has? I mean, that doesn’t matter. But you can actually tell?”

“Geez Louise, you’re taller than me. You’re heading into Thor and Wolverine territory. Didn’t you notice when you hugged me?”

“Uh.”
When he hugged her and her lips smelled of peaches
. “Uh …”

“Got it! www.ehow.com.
How to cope with receiving anonymous letters
.”

“That sounds good. What’s it say?”

“Okay, sooo there are five tips. One …”
Mutter-mumble
 … “
Remain calm and form a plan to cope with the person and any future letters
.”

“I’ve been telling her. Thing is, she just rips up the letters. What next?”

“Okay, two …”
Mutter-mumble
 … “
Only cowards write anonymous letters, and most of them will tire if they receive no response from you.”

“Yeah, I sort of thought or hoped that, but it’s so many letters now. When does it stop?”

“So number three is … Never mind, that’s on e-mails. Number four says,
Check with local authorities. They can help you track down
—”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“Okay, the last tip is to, uh, basically call a lawyer or a
private investigator, to seek professional help because this can threaten your physical or mental health and—”

“Not gonna happen either. But thanks, I’ll keep it all in mind. Promise.”

“You’re the kid, Batman.”

“Huh?”

“Look, I know you’re a guy and you’re fifteen and everything, but your mom, she’s the parent, right? And she is, like, a big deal at a hospital. I overheard Chuck say. She would know about this stuff.”

“No. Well, maybe, yeah. She’s like a supervisor and she heads committees, so yeah. I guess.”

“You’re not the one in charge.”

Wanna bet?

“Adam?”

“I’m here.”

“Okay, so why not the cops?”

“She has other issues that could be a problem if anyone … She’s not … She has issues, and it’s complicated.” Adam felt more disloyal with each word. He was shaking by the second “issues.”

Silence again. Not so awkward this time. He could hear her breathing at the other end. If only he could see her, see her lips.

“The
collecting
?”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Adam?”

“Yeah.” He kept nodding. “Yeah, the collecting. It’s a no-go.”

“Okay, how about good friends—of your mom’s, I mean?”

“Yeah, not so much. Not anymore. There is no one else, Robyn.
I’m
the one she tells things to. I’m everybody.”

Silence.

“I get it, and your dad’s out with the divorce situation and everything.” Adam could almost hear her thinking. “I know this is nuts, but how about your stepmom?”

“Brenda?”

“Yeah, you talked about how her and your mom are bordering on being friendly.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but no. You see, Brenda’s cool and all, but she kind of has her hands full with my little brother. He gets a bit anxious and that makes her anxious and off they go. But you gave me some real good ideas off the Net. That whole ‘plan for the next letter’ thing and that it’s a coward, et cetera. Good to know. I mean it, thanks. I’m glad I called.”

“Are you?”

“For sure. I get to hear your voice, and yeah, like, it was good just to get it out of my head and say it out loud.” And the funny thing was, it was.

“You know what
I
know for sure?”

You don’t have to
see
a smile, you can
hear
one. Her beautiful mouth turned up, one dimple at play. It was contagious. Adam smiled too. “No, what?”

“That it’s all good for me. Like, maybe
you’re
good for me. See you Monday, Batman!”

Robyn hung up while Adam was constructing what he should say and how he should say it. He held the phone in his hand long after he heard the dial tone, still smiling.

He did not count.

Adam’s heart ran laps around his chest, threatening to break a land speed record. He could conquer the universe.

He had
told
. He had told
her
. And Robyn had not run off; she’d stayed and they’d talked just like two
normal
people out there in the world who cared. Normal. This was what
normal
felt like?

Su-weeet
.

Adam bolted up the stairs three at a time. He needed to measure himself against his door jamb right away. But once there, he froze. It wasn’t a threshold thing. It was a confusion thing. What if she was just messing with him? He leaned hard into the door, waiting for the nausea to pass.

From the time he could stand upright, Adam’s height had been dutifully measured and recorded by his father’s
pencil markings, and then his mother’s, and now his own. He grabbed a ruler and laid it flat on top of his head. The temptation to angle it upwards and make himself taller had to be resisted each time. Five foot seven and three-quarters! Yes! He’d be six feet by Christmas. Anything was possible!

He was good for her!
She’d said it. Out loud. Maybe she didn’t mean it, though. Maybe she just felt sorry for him. His stomach lurched. No! She wasn’t like that, wouldn’t do that. He
was
good for her. And she liked him. He picked that option and tried to stay with it, but couldn’t.

Adam’s feelings stumbled and tripped around like out-of-control drunks; he was jubilant one minute, drowning in anxiety the next. This was love? It was like being held hostage by a terrorist. The feelings from hope to horror were crazy intense and changed on a dime. If only he knew what she thought. Why couldn’t girls tell you exactly what they were thinking the moment they were thinking it? The world would be a better place, yes, sir. But at the same time, he couldn’t stop grinning. Adam felt like he was starring in an Italian film. If only he smoked. He should smoke. Maybe smoking would calm him down some, focus his mind without the tapping. He would
not
tap. He should go for a run. No, his mom would be home soon.

Adam paced around his room but stopped as soon as he realized he was doing so in precise concentric patterns. He reached for the figurines but did not touch them. He could do the List. Yes! He felt instantly awful for not keeping up with the List. He’d promised Chuck, promised himself. This time he’d have it all ready to go for his next one-on-one. It would blow Chuck away.

Adam ripped a sheet out of a notebook. He was perspiring, but began writing before he lost his nerve. He wrote it all while standing.

Damn. He remembered now why he hated doing these. Full-frontal reality. Reality sucked. He sucked. What massive suckage to see just how much he sucked on paper. And he was getting worse—no use denying it—which was suckier still. The Ativan dose was a lie, but he did not correct it.

“Adam? I’m home, finally!”

He heard his mom shoving things away and knew that she did so without really seeing the mess. “I’m just finishing up some English homework,” he called. “Dinner’s in the blue CorningWare thingy. Stick it in the microwave.”

“Thanks, baby!”

He heard rattling, shuffling, ice clinking. Vodka on ice. Adam shut his door. Robyn. He could do it if he thought of Robyn.

There. Adam touched the paper eleven times as he reread his List. It was bad, no doubt. But not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Chuck was right. Lists were good. Staring at it straight on was like taking himself straight on. That was what Chuck said. Big long exhale. Okay.