Chapters 27 to 29

Chapter 27

It was a couple hours from daybreak when Billy arrived home, the scent of Shari’s hair still doing somersaults inside his head. He practically skipped home the last few blocks. As Shari had said, his first experience at intercourse was not exactly an example for the ages, but it would only get better over time. And he was sure there would be a next time. Somehow, magically, he had found Shari.
The whole day epitomized what summer should be. The Grok. Shari. Warm summer nights.

“A modern-day Beach Blanket Bingo,” Rooster had called the Grok. “A glorious rest stop in the space time continuum.”

After Billy dropped Shari off at her house he had been too worked up to go straight home. He did a couple of laps around the north end of town so by the time he arrived at his house he was emotionally and physically spent.

He was taken off guard, therefore, when he came through the side door to find his parents awake in their robes, sitting at the kitchen table drinking Sanka. His mother had been crying. When they saw him come in, she looked away, but his father leaned back in his chair and gave him a steely-eyed stare.

‘Now what?’ thought Billy. ‘Can’t they let me have one night to myself?’

“Are you aware, young man,” said his father, “what time it is?” He put his mug down. Billy watched the steam rising lazily from it.

“I said,” repeated his dad, “Do you know what time it is?”

Billy leaned against the wall. Not again. He wanted to yell at them, ‘Of course I know what time it is? Do you think I’m an idiot!’ but said, “It’s almost three.”

“It’s after three!” shouted his dad.

“Stay calm, Frank,” said his mother.

“Calm? How can I stay calm? You’re mother was worried sick about you.”

“I thought you’d be asleep,” said Billy.

“Sit down,” said Frank.

“I’m OK here,” said Billy, though he could barely stand on his feet. He stopped leaning against the wall, though, and put his hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, awaiting the worst.

“I said, sit down!”

Billy slowly pulled the chair out from the kitchen table and sat on the edge of it. ‘Here we go again,’ he thought. He grabbed the salt shaker that was on the table, and rolled it between his palms.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” said his father.

“What?” Billy mumbled.

“What? What do you mean, ‘what’? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Billy tried to speak in measured tones. “I was out with my friends. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It’s the last weekend of the summer.”

He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed. Please God, he couldn’t take another lecture.

“It’s after three o’clock in the morning!” yelled his dad.

Billy sat there silent. ‘OK,’ he thought, ‘We’ve established what time it is.’

“After all we’ve been through I think you’d have a little common courtesy. And put that salt shaker down!”

Billy put it back and gripped the edge of the table. Bile started seeping up his throat.

“What are we supposed to think? Your mother was worried sick about you. You think she’d have enough to worry about with Justine. Is it too much to not have to have her worrying that you’re lying dead in the middle of the road somewhere?”

“I’m fine,” said Billy.

“I don’t know what’s happening to you Billy,” said his mother.

“You should have been working this weekend anyway, instead of partying with those hippie friends of yours,” said his dad.

“I worked all summer,” said Billy. “School starts on Tuesday. I didn’t want to work the last weekend.”

“Because you are a spoiled brat!”

“I work more than most of my friends!”

“Oh, that’s saying a whole hell of a lot,” let out Frank, bitterly.

Billy’s face was flushed. He picked up the salt shaker again and started rapidly tossing it from hand to hand. His father followed it with his eyes.

“Can I go to bed?” Billy asked harshly.

“Not yet. I’m not through with you yet,” said his father.

“What do you want from me?” said Billy in a high pitched voice, suddenly fighting off the tears. ‘Do not cry,’ he commanded himself. ‘Whatever you do, do not cry.’

“Maybe to show some responsibility,” said his mother.

“Oh, oh, oh,” said Billy. He was fuming but he knew they could see he was close to tears, too, and he absolutely didn’t want to come off like a little kid. “I work all summer, I look after Justine…Just give me a break, OK? There’s a hell of a lot of kids doing a hell of a lot worse than me!”

“Don’t curse at your mother!” said his dad, while Carol rolled her eyes and simultaneously added, “Oh, that makes me feel reassured!” She went to refill her coffee.

“Maybe you need to be grounded again,” said his Dad.

Billy slammed the salt shaker on the table. “You can’t do that!” he yelled, surprised at his own forcefulness. “This is the last weekend of the summer. I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t come home drunk. I wasn’t caught stealing. So I stayed out a little late. So big deal!”

He fought to regain his composure, but there were still some tears sliding down his face. Angrily he wiped them away.

“You know you’re practically a man,” started Frank.

“And some day I’ll be dead!” Billy shouted. “And what then?”

“Oh, please,” said Carol, “Don’t be so melodramatic. Your father and I are going to be lying cold in our graves for a long time before you die. You’ve got your whole life in front of you.”

“Yeah, and one more year before I’m out of here!” said Billy. He pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “I’m going to bed now, OK?”

His father slammed his fist on the table. “How dare you! You little snot!”

“Frank, calm down,” said Carol. “See what you’ve done, Billy, you’re going to give your father a stroke.”

The vein that ran alongside his father’s forehead was standing out now in bold relief. Seeing it and imagining the blood coursing through it took the steam out of Billy’s anger. A vision of his dad in the hospital bed flashed in his head. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he asked meekly.

“We need to know we can rely on you, Billy. When we’re gone it’s just going to be you and Justine. We need to know you can think about someone other than yourself,”said Carol.

“Is that what this is all about?” asked Billy.

“No, this is about a seventeen year old boy, living in his parents house, staying out all hours of the night – without calling—and scaring the devil out of his mother. And then,” said Frank, practically sneering, “And then waltzing in here, slamming down salt shakers, and announcing that he can do anything he damn pleases!”

“I though you would be sleeping,” said Billy, in measured tones. He wasn’t crying anymore. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Well, I’m sorry you see it that way,” said his mother.

“Can I go to bed now?” asked Billy.

“Yes, you can go to bed,” said his father.

Billy started towards the stairs, but his father stopped him.

“Only one more thing,” he said. “When your sister comes home, I don’t want to have to deal with any of your…your…” He was searching for the word. “Shenanigans! It’s going to be tough around here and I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

“Then don’t,” Billy hissed under his breath.

“What did you say?” asked his father.

“You won’t,” said Billy.

“I hope not,” said Frank.

“Look, Billy, I know this has been hard on you, but you have to understand it’s been a lot harder on us. We’re Justine’s parents. You’re right. You’re leaving after this year, but for us Justine will never really leave. I only hope when you get older that you’ll be there for us and for your sister.”

Billy stared down at the toe of his sneaker, which was burrowing into the linoleum floor. He couldn’t look at his parents. They were right but they were wrong, too. They were overreacting.

“We love you, Billy,” said Carol.

“Let him go to bed!” snapped Frank. “He doesn’t want to hear all this.”

“Why are you making such a big deal of this?” asked Billy. He spoke in a thin voice. “All that happened was that I stayed out a couple of hours later than usual.”

“You’re always out. You’re never home,” said Carol.

“Neither are any of the other kids,” said Billy.

“I don’t care about them,” said his mother. “I care about you.”

He was desperate to escape to his room. He couldn’t take this anymore. It always went around and around in circles. They were always making a big deal over everything. You would think with Justine trying to kill herself that they would gain a little perspective, but no. They were still on his back.

“Can I go to bed now?” he asked, softly.

“Yes, go upstairs,” sighed Carol. She picked up her and her husband’s mugs as Billy quickly muttered goodnight and ran up to his room. He shed the clothes from his body and slunk into bed. Within seconds he was fast asleep.



Chapter 28

When Billy was in elementary school, he was a voracious reader. Story books, biographies of Paul Revere and Abraham Lincoln and other boyhood heroes, and science books. His parents were delighted when he read books about biology or the human body because Billy said he was going to be a doctor when he grew up.

“My son the doctor,” Frank would say with a broad smile on his face and the obligatory tussling of Billy’s hair. Frank and Carol hadn’t even gone to college, but they were intent on Billy and Justine getting a good education.

“My son’s not going to end up busting his back like my father did or end up like me kissing asses all day while people haggle over the price of sewage supplies.”

“What do you do for your job, Daddy?” Billy had asked.

“I sling sludge.”

“Frank!” said Carol.

“OK, I sling the stuff that cleans up the sludge.”

“Your father sells chemicals that help us keep our water clean, Billy,” said his mom. “It’s a very important job.”

When he was younger, his mom had only said that Daddy went to work to make money. Billy imagined his father standing in front of a gigantic machine that noisily pressed out nickels from huge sheets of metal. In his mind, the newly minted nickels would make a tremendous clattering sound as they poured into large bins. His father would wheel away the shiny mounds away to waiting trucks that would bring them to all the banks. Billy could practically feel the shiny coins flow like liquid between his fingers. To him, it seemed like the greatest job in the world.

***********************************************************

One day Billy had been reading a pamphlet called A Doctor Talks to Nine-Year Olds that he had secretly brought home from the pediatrician’s office the last time he went for a check-up. He was only eight years old, but he often read books meant for older kids. Upon reading the pamphlet later in his room, he was surprised to discover that it was all about where babies came from. This wasn’t news to him. He had actually read some other books in the library that alluded to the mysteries of sex and had even shown pictures of fetal development. Still, there seemed to be many gaps in his reading material. Key information was missing.

“Dad,” he had asked.

“Yes, Billy.”

“Could you tell me something? I know where babies come from.”

His father put down his paper and paid closer attention. He cleared his throat and tried to appear matter-of-fact.

“I know that babies grow inside the mom’s uterus, and that they come from when a sperm meets an egg.”

“That’s right,” his father had said, mildly surprised. They hadn’t spoken about this before. Frank had not thought he was ready.

“But what I don’t know is, how does the sperm know who you are married to?”

“What?”

“I mean, what if your wife is in California but you are in New Jersey. How does the sperm find your wife’s egg?”

Frank had been slightly flustered. This talk was coming sooner than he had expected, and Billy was an odd mixture of precocious and naïve. He gave it a try. “Well,” he said, “the sperm comes out of the man’s penis and goes into the, uh, well, the woman’s vagina.”

He swallowed hard when he said the last word. It was OK to use the word “vagina” even though Billy was eight. Right? Sure. It must be. They had used it while bathing Justine. Billy knew what a vagina was.

“It happens when they are together in bed,” Frank explained.

‘Of course,’ thought Billy. How stupid of him.

“But how does it go across the sheet and find the woman?”

“No, no,” said his Dad. He was messing this up. He was sure of it. “The man puts his penis into the woman’s vagina.”

“Oh.”

This had never occurred to Billy. It had been in none of the books. They only mentioned that the sperm comes from the man, leaves his penis, and then fertilizes the egg. It made sense, now that his father had explained it, but it seemed kind of gross.

“Are they awake when it happens?”

His father was somewhat stunned and rendered more than a little uncomfortable, but he managed to retain his footing.

“Yes,” he said. “They’re awake.”

“Oh,” said Billy. But he guessed that if you wanted a baby, then that was something you just had to do. Nobody ever explicitly told him that this activity was actually supposed to be an enjoyable one.

That was the last conversation he ever had with his father about sex, with one exception. His mother had once approached him when he was sixteen and asked him to go to his father for advice. She had come home from work with groceries, and Billy had helped her sort them and put them away. As usual, she had the radio station tuned to WNEW which played old standards from the 30s and 40s. Billy always thought it was odd that his mom listened to older music. She had graduated high school in the 50s. Why didn’t she listen to Elvis?

“Want some pudding?” she asked.

“Before dinner?”

“Why not? You’re a growing boy. Lack of an appetite doesn’t appear to be a problem for you.”

“OK. Sure.”

“Chocolate or butterscotch?”

“Chocolate.”

On the lower shelf in the refrigerator, in two neat rows, were glasses half-filled with either chocolate or butterscotch pudding. Carol had made a big batch the night before that was meant to last a few days.

Billy sat down at the table, and Carol placed a glass in front of him with a spoon. He dug into it, polishing it off with a few quick gulps. Carol sat across from him nursing a glass of butterscotch.

“You know, Billy,” she said offhandedly. “Your father would be really happy if you went to him with any questions you might have.”

“About what?”

He licked the inside of the glass with his tongue, trying to scoop up every morsel he could.

“Billy, please. Stop that. You can have another one after dinner.”

He thought about taking one more quick lick, but decided against it.

“About girls,” she said.

Billy put down the glass. “Girls?” he asked.

“Yeah. You know you’re getting older and you might have some questions.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said. He picked the glass up and then returned it to the table. His mind quickly began searching for an excuse to leave or at least a believable change in subject.

“But you must be thinking about it,” said his mom, trying to give the impression that what she was saying carried no great import. Billy figured she must have rehearsed this in her own mind. If he wasn’t so flummoxed he might even feel sorry for her. “And your father doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by asking,” she added, taking a spoonful of pudding.

“I really don’t have any questions.”

“Well, maybe that’s true. But…”

She got up and dumped out the rest of her pudding and started washing both her glass and Billy’s.

“Could you hand me that spoon?” she asked.

“Sure.”

He leapt out of his seat and gave her the spoon, thinking it might give him a chance to exit, but his mother started talking again before he could leave.

“To be honest with you, Billy. I think your Dad is sad that you don’t come to him. I think he thinks that you don’t feel comfortable talking to him about these things.”

‘You’ve got that right,’ thought Billy.

“I think it would be a nice thing,” she continued, “even if you don’t have any real questions, if you just made some up and asked him. You’d be giving him the best kind of present possible if you did.”

“Just make up a question?”

“Yeah. Show him you can talk to him.”

“About what?”

“There must be something you don’t already know. Maybe something you’re curious about,” she suggested.

Billy stared down at the floor, and made a few half-hearted attempts at a response. This was not going to be pleasant.

“Think about it,” said his mother.

Billy nodded and then ran up to his room. Later that night he asked his Dad a few questions, for his mom’s sake. They discussed whether blue balls was a real phenomenon. His father had said yes, but nowhere near the extent that Billy’s friends made it out to be. Billy also asked how you knew when a girl wanted to be kissed. He received the answer he expected – “You’ll know when it happens – but he was not satisfied. He had been hoping for something a bit more practical. How do you know that you’ll know when it happens. What if you don’t? It would be stupid to ask, “Can I kiss you?” That would be so dorky.

The next evening the whole family was watching television together. His mom had brought in some pretzels and put them down in front of Billy. As she did so, she put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink. He was pleased to make her happy. The ordeal hadn’t been quite as bad as he thought it was going to be. However, it did re-enforce that he could never do that again. All he could think of the whole time they were talking was that they both had penises. And one thing was certain. Billy didn’t want to know what his father did with his, and what Billy did with his own was definitely private.



Chapter 29

Billy laid out his black jeans and black T-shirt at the end of the bed. Actually it was the Rolling Stones concert shirt but he could wear it inside out. Kyle had told him to meet the others, dressed in black, in the woods at the edge of the football field at midnight. Then they would go over their assignments. People had been preparing for weeks.

‘If it hadn’t been for that Food Town job,’ thought Billy, ‘I wouldn’t have had any black pants.’

It was Monday morning, the day before the first day of school. The day before Billy’s last year of school. High school, anyway. He had thought he would want to luxuriate in the day – soak in the last few hours of freedom, while at the same time secretly excited about getting back into the routine of being with everyone all day and even going to classes. He was taking AP physics and calculus this year and though he may not admit it to Kyle and Rooster, he thought that was going to be pretty cool.

Like a sword hanging over his head, however, was Justine. Shari told him not to worry about her, that his friends would understand and even look out for her. He wasn’t convinced. Besides, he didn’t want everything to revolve around her. He didn’t want to have to think about her that much, to placate her and explain her to his friends. And there were bound to be incidents, embarrassing ones, maybe even scary ones. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t want to have that much responsibility. He didn’t want to have to report to his parents and he didn’t want to feel that if something bad happened that he should have known what was going on and done something to prevent it.

Billy rubbed the denim of his black jeans between his fingers. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to keep these clothes out in the open. He shoved them under his pillow. If his mom came in his room – although she wasn’t supposed to – she might ask questions.

He went downstairs to breakfast and poured himself a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes, and flipped on the radio. His parents were off picking up Justine. They’d be home soon and they told him they wanted him there when they returned. In the meantime, the house was his.

Justine was originally going to be in the hospital a few more days, but she was supposedly doing well and Dr. Chow thought it was important she be at school the first day. The first day. Tomorrow! Billy buried his head in his hands. He knew the day would eventually come, but the cold, hard reality of it all was hitting squarely in the gut.

“It’ll be OK,” he said aloud. “It can’t be as bad as I think.” He was not convinced.

He emptied the remainder of the cereal box into his bowl and pulled down an unopened one from the cabinet. Then he filled his bowl with milk and drained what was left in the container with a few big gulps.

Tonight would be awesome. At first the plan had seemed ridiculous, and incriminating on top of that, but they had won him over. “They are going to know it’s us,” Billy had said. “Is that smart?”

“I was worried about that, too,” Kerry had said.

“They’ll know it had something to do with us freaks,” said Rooster. “But if we aren’t caught in the act they can’t pin it on anybody in particular. Besides, it’s not destructive or anything.”

“So we meet at midnight,” said Billy. “Who’s bringing the frisbee?”

“Kerry,” said Kyle. “She’s been in charge of constructing it.”

“Exactly how big is it?” asked Billy.

“It’s twenty feet across,” said Kelly. “But it folds in half. And it’s light, we made it out of sheets. We sewed a hose into the rim to help it keep its shape.”

“And it looks like an official ultimate disc?” asked Billy.

“You bet,” said Kerry.

Rooster gave her a hug and planted a wet kiss on her forehead.

“It’s spectacular,” said Kyle. “It’s the same shade of red and it’s got Whammo, 165 grams, and all that stuff written on it.”

“You got the rope, right?” asked Kerry.

“Yeah. I got just what you asked for. It’s hidden in my shed,” said Billy. “Do you think it will be enough?”

“Dwight and Darren are also bringing a cable,” said Kerry.

“How are you going to suspend it?” asked Billy.

“You’ll see,” said Kyle. “There will be six of us on the roof. The four of us and the twins. Susan, Shari, and Joel will be lookouts.”

“Shari?” asked Billy.

“Yes, Shari,” said Rooster. “We’ll tie one rope to one end of the frisbee and attach it to the top of the dome. The other end we’ll attach to one of the vents on the roof using the cable and a lock. That way they can’t just cut it down right away.”

“When the kids show up for school, there will be this beautiful red frisbee suspended in mid loft over Fairfield High,” laughed Kyle.

“Spectacular!” shouted Rooster.

None of them could keep from smiling, although Billy hoped he wasn’t the one who would have to climb to the top of the dome. Heights made him skittish. But that was hours away. A whole excruciating day. A day his parents presumably wanted to be a ‘family day’. He wasn’t going to complain, though. He needed to lull his mom and dad into complacency so he could sneak out that night.

The white Buick Wildcat slowly lumbered up the driveway. Through the window Billy could see the three of them in the car. When they got out, his mother started brushing some crumbs off of Justine’s shirt. Then she licked her fingers and used her spit to clean off some dirt on her daughter’s face. Justine grimaced slightly and turned away.

‘Leave her alone,’ thought Billy.

He cleared the table and started washing his dishes. He didn’t want them to think he had been waiting by the window for their return. Shortly he heard the three of them come through the kitchen door. The dull thud of Justine’s suitcase as she dropped it on the floor signaled their arrival.

“We’re back,” said Carol. Her voice had a slight lilting quality to it. Billy wondered whom she was kidding. “Justine, honey, why don’t you unpack your bag and make yourself at home?”

“I’m tired.”

“OK, then,” said her mother, trying to maintain her lilt, “How about if you just bring it to your room and lie down for awhile.”

Justine blew a short burst of air between her lips, making them vibrate slightly. Without acknowledging her mother she walked deliberately to her room, her arms hanging loosely by her side. As she passed Billy he let out a murmur of greeting which she ignored. He turned off the spigot and started drying his dishes.

“Well, she’s a bundle of sunshine,” he said.

“Give her a break,” said Carol. “It’s been hard on her and she is still on medication.”

Frank sat down at the table and said, “She forgot her suitcase.” He looked at it for a couple seconds, shook his head, and said, “Carol, could you make me a sandwich?”

“It’s only eleven. And why don’t you make your own sandwich.”

He didn’t respond, but only picked up the newspaper that was on the chair next to him and started reading. Billy put his dishes away and contemplated escape. “Can I go now?” he asked.

“No,” said Frank, without looking up.

“Billy,” said his mom, “This is the last day of the summer. Justine’s home, and I thought it would be nice if we spent the day together. You know, a real family day. We haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

“OK,” said Billy. He knew that objecting would be futile, and his mother was trying hard, even if it was pointless. Justine was Justine after all and no family day was going to change that. “What are we going to do?”

“Let Justine rest a bit, and then we’ll have lunch and maybe all go out to a movie.”

“Well, until she wakes up, I’ll be in my room,” said Billy.

Carol cleared her throat. “I don’t think she’s asleep yet,” she said. “I think it would be nice if you went in there and said ‘Hello’. You know, make her feel welcomed home. You can take her suitcase with you when you go.”

“I said hello. She didn’t even respond.”

“Please, Billy.”

“Do what your mother asked,” said Frank, turning a page.

Billy thought of the night ahead. He knew he better play it low key if he was going to sneak out later. Besides, saying ‘hello’ to Justine was the right thing to do. “All right,” he said. “But she might kick me out.”

“Give her a chance,” said Carol.

Billy retrieved the suitcase and went over to her door. It was closed. He hadn’t been back in her room since that day. The prospect of going in there and seeing her asleep, splayed out on her bed did not thrill him. He knocked tentatively, hoping for no response.

“Who is it?” she asked through the doorway.

“It’s me,” said Billy. “I’ve got your suitcase.”

There was silence.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Do what you want,” she said.

Billy slowly opened the door and peeked in.

“Don’t worry,” said Justine. “I haven’t taken any pills. Except for that crap that Dr. Chow makes me take.”

“I just brought your suitcase,” said Billy. He put it down by her closet. He still couldn’t get over her room. Who would think a person with a mountain of stuffed animals would try to kill herself? Someone with music boxes and ballerinas and walls filled with posters of puppies and those stupid little cartoon kids with the huge eyes and sappy sayings underneath. She was thirteen but she had the room of a six year-old. You would think the room of someone who had tried to commit suicide would be filled with black and Ann Sexton poetry, not pinks and Hallmark sentimentality.

Justine was laying face down with her arms hanging over the head of the bed. She didn’t have her music on, which was strange. Billy stood near the door but couldn’t bring himself to leave. He really should say something to her. “Well, um, welcome home,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Justine. She spoke the word with a mixture of sarcasm and weariness. It was half muffled by her pillow. Her life really was miserable, he supposed. And he doubted she was thrilled by the prospect of going back to school tomorrow.

“Are you, uh, feeling better?”

Justine rolled over on to her side so she could see his face. She seemed jaundiced. “Why do you care?” she asked.

“What are you talking about? I’m your brother.”

“Oh, so you have to care. What if you weren’t my brother?”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you weren’t my brother would you still care about me?”

Billy knew this was a loaded question. The muscles in his head started constricting around his skull. He wanted to avoid a blow up. “I wouldn’t know you the same way, Justine. If I knew you, then I would care.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Before he could answer she added, “Do you think I’m smart?”

Billy forced out a “yes.” Why was it hard to say that? She wasn’t bad looking, he supposed. She didn’t do well in school, but she wasn’t dumb. Not the way she could twist anything anybody said into whatever it was she wanted to fight about.

“You’re lying,” she said.

“I am not.”

“You don’t care about me. You won’t even let me be with your friends.”

So they were back to this again. How many times did he have to explain it? She was right, of course, about his wanting her to keep her distance, but it didn’t mean he didn’t care about her.

“Didn’t I save your life?” he asked.

“Oh, thanks a lot,” she said facetiously and buried her head back in her pillow.

“What do you mean?” said Billy, starting to grow angry. “I saved your life! Do you really think being dead is better?”

“Better than this, maybe.”

“Bullshit! Don’t give me that.”

Justine sat up. “Don’t yell at me,” she said. “See, you don’t care about me.” She felt oddly vindicated. “I’m home from being locked up and you start yelling at me.”

“What do you want from me, Justine? I saved your life. I came in here with your suitcase to welcome you home. You’re the one who scared the hell out of me.”

“You’re mad at me for trying to kill myself?”

Billy felt stupid. He felt petty. He knew this was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. It was like standing on a bridge looking down into the water from a great height. It was scary and it made his stomach queasy but there was this urge from deep within to just climb up on the railing and step off.

“Yes, I’m mad. You scared me. You scared mom and dad.”

Justine bounced off the edge of her bed and started walking in circles around the room. Billy closed the door and braced himself. In a loud whisper he said, “Calm down, Justine.”

“Why should I calm down? I can’t do anything right. I tried to kill myself and you just get mad.”

Billy had what he thought was a flash of insight. He walked over to her but she hunched her shoulders and moved away. “I wouldn’t have gotten mad if I didn’t care,” he said. “I wouldn’t have been so scared if I didn’t care. Why do you think Mom and Dad put you in that hospital? Why do you think they pay so much money to Dr. Chow every week?”

“He is worthless!”

“They are trying to do something. They are trying to help you somehow. Don’t you want to be helped?”

“I don’t need any help.”

“You don’t need any help?” Billy let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t need any help? You tried to commit suicide!”

Justine collapsed on the bed and started crying softly. Billy knelt down at her feet. He wanted to take her hand or comfort her in some way, but it was too awkward. It would be forced, and she would know it. Justine could spot something phony from a mile away. “Justine, I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She faced the wall and tried to control her sniffles.

“Do you want a unicorn?” he asked, holding one out to her. She grabbed it and tucked it under her arm but she still didn’t look at him. Instead, she drew her legs up underneath her and started rocking gently. Billy struggled for the right words.

“I know your life sucks sometimes.”

Justine let out a “Hmmf” and kept rocking.

“But it’s better than it was, right? You used to flip out all the time. You used to fail tests and stuff. You used to hear voices in your head, but you don’t anymore.”

“I miss my voices.”

“Really?” He was not convinced.

“Really!”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But you are getting better, and you’ve got like 60 or 70 years left to live. I bet most of them will be good even if the next few aren’t.” He tried not to think that no matter how long, life would end -- no matter what.

She was silent for a moment. He could tell she was thinking.
“You think so?” she asked.

“I think so,” said Billy. At least he hoped so. “And kids are getting older and more mature. They won’t pick on you as much in high school as in middle school. Do you know what the teachers call middle school? They call it the middle zoo.”

“Can I eat lunch with you and your friends?”

“What?” A twinge of panic ran through him.

“I said, can I eat lunch with your friends?”

Her eyes were full of tears. The unicorn sat on her lap. It’s eyes, too, stared up at him, unblinking. They were huge black eyes partially obscured by the tuft of lilac colored hair on its forehead. He had no choice and he knew it. It would be awful, but what else could he say?

“Yeah, of course. You can eat with me and my friends.”

“And can I walk to school with you?”

“Yeah, sure, but when we get there I’m going to hang out at the Senior door.”

“Can I go with you to parties?”

Billy stood up and pulled at his hair. “No,” he whined. He took a step towards the door and then spun to face her. “Come on, Justine. They’re my friends and I just need to be with them sometimes. Don’t push it. You can eat with us, but…Just don’t push it.” With any luck she’d have a different lunch period.
“All right,” she said grudgingly. He wasn’t expecting her acquiescence to come quite so quickly. “Do you mean it?” asked Billy.

“You think I’m a liar?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

“No, no,” he said, quickly. “I believe you.”

Of course he didn’t. He knew damn well that she’d push the limits. He knew damn well that she was going to flip out and embarrass him. But if he didn’t give her a chance, then how could he live with himself.

“Come on,” he said. ”We’re going to the movies. It’s family day.”

Justine groaned.

“Family day?” she asked. “This should be a barrel of laughs.”

“Tell me about it.”