Jeremiah Quick (20 page)

The other girl was new, and from the chatter
I gathered another boy had come into the facility while I was at
the nurse or in Corrie's office. He came into the group room while
I was too busy staring at the fake wood-grain of the table to even
look at him.

We all had to introduce ourselves and say
which week we were on, like, as an icebreaker or something. Nine
kids, two group leaders, two supervisors. No way was I going to be
able to keep all those names straight.

But. All the staff wore nametags, so at
least there was that.

One group leader was Karen, the other was
Nick. "Day two of five," they both said, and laughed. It took me a
second to catch on, that it was Tuesday, and sure enough, they'd
been the same group leaders as last night. Which I barely
remembered, because I'd ignored the whole thing as much as
possible. Except for the part where I stole a pen.

A tiny bouncy girl, the one leaving on
Friday, was next. I didn't catch her name, but she was already
tagged in my brain as "Li'l Bit." She was a li'l bit hyper,
probably a li'l bit crazy, and definitely more than a li'l bit on
the short end, height-wise. "Out of here on Friday," she said, and
the new girl, sitting two chairs to Li'l Bit's right, with an empty
chair in between them, started to cry.

We skipped her intro, and before I could do
much more than tag the next three boys (Stoner, Baker, Rock Candy
Maker), it was my turn.

"Jeremiah," I mumbled. "I have a lot of days
left. Most of them."

"What the hell happened to your neck?" Li'l
Bit said, and Karen the group leader admonished her.

"No, it's okay," I said, remembering what
Corrie said about opening up. That I had to, in order to go home.
Or at least had to appear to open up. "Kind of… stupid. I’m better
now. Scout's honor." I held my hand up, trying to remember the Boy
Scout sign, but I'd only been a Boy Scout for a week or two, until
the cost of the uniform became known, so I went with the Vulcan
sign instead. Live long and prosper.

The new girl squeaked, and gave me the sign
back, with both hands. Not everybody can do it with both hands,
although I can, so I was suitably impressed.

Big, thuggish mean-looking boy next to me
said, "You guys are total fucking geeks." And then, "I'm Luke, and
I'm out of here on Friday, like Jenny." I could have tagged him
"Bruiser" but I had a little association game I could play. Spock,
Star Trek, Star Wars, then Luke. Easy.

He seemed like an asshole.

Next to him was an empty chair.

My chair next to him would have been empty,
too, except the only other space was between the two girls, and I
wasn't going to put myself there – or right next to either group
leader. And… no. I'd play along because Corrie said I had to, but
there's no fucking way I was gonna brown nose or suck up. I
couldn't possibly play
that
nice. Not and survive this
intact.

Bad enough one of the supervisors was
sitting behind me.

I was daydreaming when the next kid, a boy
with average brown hair and freckles, introduced himself, but
caught the part where he said he was also leaving on Friday.

Next to him was the new boy, who I finally
looked at, but had to look away from as fast as possible. He was so
pretty he almost made me cry. I couldn't stop myself from peeking
at him, though, so I was stuck playing
look-don't look
for
whole rest of the session.

His very existence made me feel too big for
my skin.

What the hell
was
this?

I'd had two girlfriends before my uncle,
both more or less Goth girls – one that was bitchy and mean and had
a voice that made me want to choke her, and the other who moved and
started going to a different school. I'd kept seeing the second one
for a couple of months, but it was a lot of work, and a lot more
sitting on the phone watching TV than it was time being together,
and the bus line sucked to where she lived now, so we more or less
agreed to let each other go. I hadn't missed her all that much,
which I wondered about, but you know, whatever. And once my uncle
got me, I didn't bother with girlfriends, or even friends.

I caught this boy's name, and I would never
forget it. Jamie. Jamie Summerfield.

He was blond and delicate, and so thin there
was room for two of him on the metal folding chair.

I had an inside-my-head vision of him
pressed beneath me, breathing hard, and I liked it so much I had to
push it away or I was going to smile inappropriately, and maybe
even blush, for god's sake.

I had no idea what to think about this.

I was…. at that point, average height,
leaning toward tall, my hair was straight dirty blond, or dark
blond, or really light brown – whatever. I hadn't quite got up the
guts yet to dye it black. It was past my neck, not quite to my
shoulders, bangs over-long, almost long enough to tuck behind my
ears.

Jamie caught one of my glances, and his eyes
were such a bright blue I could almost die. Sky blue.

I looked away first. I was doing a lot of
that, here. But this was… this was because I didn't want to scare
him.

He didn't cry when he said today was the
first day of the rest of his life.

Some of the kids laughed.

I didn't. I felt like it was the first day
of the rest of my life, too.

If I could get him to my room, I'd – well, I
had no idea. Kiss him? Rape him? Tie him up and just look at
him?

I'd had fantasies about tying girls up,
tickling and poking them, torturing them with ice cubes until they
whimpered or cried and begged me to stop.

I knew there was something wrong with
me.

It took all the self-discipline I possessed
to drag my attention away from Jamie to figure out discharges
tended to be on your fourth Friday. Smart-ass seemed okay, so long
as we stayed on topic.

I also discovered that I was well and truly
fucked in this endeavor of attempting to appear normal and healthy,
because so long as Jamie was anywhere in the room, my brain would
be on tilt.

He didn't seem scared or shy or anything
less than at ease, and I wondered about that. I was pretty sure he
was younger than me, and at fifteen, I was scared and shy and
totally ill at ease. But of course, I was like that everywhere, all
the time.

I hated that he caught me staring at him.
The third time he cocked an eyebrow at me as if asking, "Do I know
you from somewhere?"

I thanked all the powers that be for my room
restriction, because I was exhausted after that group. Trying to
participate was hard enough, I sure didn't need the distraction of
Jamie on top of it.

Chapter 18

I
had two blessed
hours with Corrie the next day.

Right after breakfast I found her office on
my own, a supervisor trailing to make sure I didn't get lost or go
AWOL or something.

I didn't wait for her to acknowledge me this
time, just dropped dramatically behind her chair to look for music.
She was on my side. It was okay to be comfortable here.

I'd hardly been able to sleep for having
not-quite-asleep dreams about Jamie.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie – his name looped in my
head, never more than half a thought away.

I wished I'd been able to bring my own
music, but was required to leave all personal belongings in my
room. My favorite music was shit no one ever heard of and no one
but me ever had.

I sighed, really loud, then chose Bowie
again.

"Again?" Corrie asked, then in response to
my evil eye, added, "Okay, okay, I can deal." She turned her chair
once I'd boosted myself onto the top of the bookshelf.

I slouched there, and tried on an expression
I hoped was pathetically deject.

"Problem?" Corrie asked, her lips curved
into the tiniest of smiles, as though she knew there was a whole
pile of drama ahead, just waiting to be tripped over.

I nodded. "Jamie."

"The new kid?" she asked.

"Yes." I paused for dramatic effect, because
I felt it, and she seemed to expect it. "Jamie is going to be a
problem."

"You know him from somewhere?"

I shook my head. "I can't function in a room
with him. I can't even explain it. It's like the room is pitch
black and he's the only flashlight. I can't like… take my eyes off
him. It's mortifying. Help me."

She was trying not to laugh. I could
tell.

"Are you gay?" she asked.

"Are you?" I countered.

"I asked first."

"No," I said. "I asked you yesterday."

"Oh, sorry," she said. "You were being so
rude I didn't realize it was a real question."

"So, are you?" I asked again, needing her to
answer first.

She sighed. "Yes."

"But you had a kid! You said so."

She frowned at me, then shrugged. "I also
had a husband for a long time. I don't anymore. People make
mistakes. Sometimes they fix them."

My brain was racing, and I was struggling to
keep up. My counselor was a dyke. She – well, I didn't even want to
picture what she did with other women. Ew. No wonder she lost her
foster care license. She was a lesbo, a rug-muncher, a… god. A
pervert.

"Say something," she said. "React."

Oh, I was reacting, but I must have had my
blank face on.

"You're a pervert," I said out loud, too
loud. I apologized in the next second, realizing how inappropriate
that was. "They let you work with kids?"

Now she was the one with the blank face, her
lips pressed into a tight line. She was almost as good at it as I
was. "I'm a lesbian. And they let me work with kids, yes.
Boys."

"Because you'd corrupt girls?"

Some expression crept into her face, and it
looked like disappointment. "What do you think?"

I felt a little ashamed then. This was
Corrie, after all, who'd managed to turn me versus Them into Us
versus Them in just a couple of hours. She was okay.

She had to be, otherwise I was completely
alone.

I shook my head. "Okay, now I really am
sorry. For being a jerk."

The disappointment seemed to clear into
something neutral. "Your turn."

"I didn't think I was – you know – like
that. I mean, I've had two girlfriends, and I never thought about
it. Well, not beyond wanting to meet Bowie or Sid…" Words went by
the wayside as I looked at that idea from this new angle.

Shit.

Really?

I pushed myself hard off the bookshelf and
landed prone on the floor. Corrie made a startled noise, a laugh,
maybe, or just an exclamation of surprise. I rolled onto my stomach
with my arms over my face, hands clutching at the hair at the top
of my head.

Didn't want this. Didn't need this. Couldn't
have this. Did my uncle see it in me, is that why?

Don't think about that don't think about
that don't think about that.

But I was thinking about it. Was there some
part of me that liked it? That asked for it?

I was crying, but didn't realize there was
noise coming out of me until Corrie's hand was on my back, rubbing
back and forth as she said, "Shh, shh, you're going to bring
someone in here wondering what's going on."

And sure enough, I heard the door open, and
a voice, maybe Tim? Asking if everything was all right.

Corrie's hand left, and her voice sounded
somewhat further away, talking to someone.

"Yes, we're fine. Talking about that moment
when there's all this blood, and you think you've really done it
now, and there's so much you wanted to DO with your life, and if
you could just have another chance… you know, that kind of
stuff."

Suddenly I was done crying and about to
laugh. She was brilliant. Fucking brilliant.

"I think he scared himself more than he even
thought."

Lower voices, his and hers – thank goodness
there were adults to watch out for kids like him, teach them better
ways to cope, she was already getting through to the boy, yadda,
yadda, yadda.

I sat up. "I'm okay now," I said.
"Sorry."

Fuck, I was apologizing a lot lately.

Corrie closed the door. "So. A couple of
girlfriends."

I didn't even want to look at her.
"Yeah."

"Did you have sex with them?"

Well, that was blatant. And fuck it. What
the hell. "Not all the way, no. Neither of them was sure they
wanted to, and I was, you know, too nervous to try all that hard,
if they didn't want to."

"Do you want to know what I think?"

I nodded, still unable to look at her.

"Maybe you're gay. But maybe you're not.
Maybe you're somewhere in between. Some people seem to know all
their lives, but for some of us it takes a little longer. Or, in my
case, a lot longer. My advice is don't panic about it. Keep your
mind and heart open, and just roll along."

"Yeah, but in the meantime, I have Jamie in
group."

Her laugh was gentle. "Just do the best you
can."

Another big sigh from me. "You're not being
all that helpful, here."

"I can't fix everything, Jeremiah. Some
things you have to figure out on your own."

"Most things," I muttered, crabby about
that.

Side A of Bowie ended, and I got all the way
up off the floor to flip it over and press play. I pulled myself up
onto the low bookshelf again. "Can't you get a couch or
something?"

She barked out a sharp laugh. "They don't
trust me that much. Even with boys."

That made me laugh, too.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now I'm going to tell you what happens to
odd kids who try to kill themselves."

I groaned. "Do you have to? I swear I'll
never do it again."

"Yes, I have to. I want to make sure you
know this stuff. Then I'll know you'll never do it again.
Deal?"

I shook my head no. "Yes."