Mockingbird (16 page)

Hello Caitlin,
Michael’s dad says. He waves from a few seats away because Josh is sitting on the other side of Michael. Josh is all dressed up in a suit like he’s going to church. He says,
Hi,
too but he doesn’t Look At The Person.

I don’t really mind that Josh is sitting on the other side of Michael because even though he’s not my favorite person he is nice to Michael. I take two gummy worms out of my pocket and give them to Michael.

He smiles.
This one’s Caitlin and this one’s Josh.

When he says Josh’s name I remember that Josh is Michael’s friend. So I offer him a gummy worm too.

Josh stares at it until Michael elbows him.

Slowly Josh reaches his hand out and takes it from me. He even Looks At The Person this time.
Thanks.

Michael grins and whispers to me,
Good remembering Your Manners.

I nod. I don’t even need the chart anymore. Not now that I know they’re MY manners and I can do whatever I want with them.

The microphone squawks and I jump again.
We’ll give people just a couple more minutes to find their seats,
the principal says,
then we’ll begin the ceremony.

Hey Caitlin,
Michael says, but his dad says,
Shhh! Michael. It’s time to settle down.
Then Mr. Schneider points up at the stage and Michael looks there too. So do I.

I see the principal walk over to the left side of the stage where Mrs. Brook is sitting and I think he’s going to walk down the steps and I hold my breath but instead he touches the blue fabric next to Mrs. Brook and talks to her.

I let out my breath slowly but I can’t help looking at those worn wooden steps on the left side of the room that go up to the stage. And I start shaking. Those steps scare me. They creak LOUD. Especially when the auditorium is quiet. The third step is the worst. I know. When Devon walked up the steps to get his Life rank the whole auditorium was silent because like Dad said it’s a big event for a seventh grader to get his Life rank so soon. But when Devon put his weight on the third step it creaked so loud it sounded like a gun went off and it scared me so I screamed and then everyone stared at me and started whispering and a little kid even pointed at me and said,
It was her!
And I started crying. Devon jumped off the steps and came running over to me saying,
It’s okay. It’s okay.
But it didn’t feel okay even when he tried to give me a gummy worm because I had a recess feeling in my stomach and I didn’t want it. He held my hand even though it was shaking up and down and he tried to get me to go up onstage with him but I didn’t want to get anywhere near that step but mostly I didn’t want to stand up in front of everyone because they were all staring at me so I pulled my hand away from his and said,
No no no!
And he said,
Everything’s okay. Just watch me. I’ll be up there,
and he pointed to where Dad was standing onstage and I didn’t answer him so he said,
See?
And I still wouldn’t answer him so he said,
I have to go now Scout. I’ll be up there. You’re going to be just fine.

I have a recess feeling in my tummy now. All I see is fuzzy blue because my eyes are blurring everything together. I wish it were the blue of Devon’s room and I were in my hidey-hole with my purple fleece looking up at the carving of my name. SCOUT.

The microphone squawks and I jump again.
Welcome!
the principal says.
Welcome everyone. Thank you for coming to this very special dedication ceremony.

I’m not sure I want to hear everything he says so while he’s talking I keep stuffed-animaling and I just hear certain words like
healing
and
coming together
and
community.
When he says
Closure
everything stops and I blink and look up at him and I squint because the stage lights are so bright and his bald head is reflecting the light like the sun.

He takes a deep breath. The microphone crackles. He flips over the piece of paper he’s holding and it hits the microphone with a pop. Then there’s silence.

Let me read the names,
he says.

I close my eyes.

He speaks slowly but loudly.
Julianne Denise Morris.

There’s a murmuring in the crowd for a moment until it’s quiet again.

Roberta L. Schneider,
the principal says.

I hear Michael beside me.
Mommy,
he says.
That’s my mommy.

I look over at him and he’s staring up at the principal with his Bambi eyes.

Mr. Schneider is blinking and covering his mouth with his hand.

And I hear the next name.
Devon. Joseph. Smith.

My Heart that has been pounding this whole time suddenly seems to stop.

I hear Dad swallow.

The auditorium is silent except for the rustling of the principal’s jacket as he turns away from the microphone and then the slow
squeak squeak squeak
of his shoes as he walks over to Mrs. Brook’s side of the stage. He puts his hand on the blue fabric shape and turns to face the audience. And he starts to speak. Even though he doesn’t have a microphone his voice booms across the auditorium.

This beautiful Mission-style chest was started by Devon for his Eagle Scout project—
his voice stops for a moment
—and then finished and donated to our middle school by his beloved father. Harold Joseph Smith. And his little sister whom he adored. Caitlin.

The principal pulls the fabric off of the shape like he’s a magician and everyone says,
Oh!
and,
Ah!

And there it is.

Devon’s chest.

With SCOUT carved and hidden underneath.

And the Mockingbird on top that I can’t see from here but I know it’s there.

His chest is good and strong and beautiful. Just like Devon.

Everyone is clapping. Even Josh. Dad blows his nose and wipes his eyes but he’s smiling. The clapping is so loud it hurts my ears but it’s a good hurt and I feel the crowd looking at me but it’s not in a bad way so I don’t mind so much.

Michael smiles and points at me and says,
It was her!
and I don’t mind that either because he’s happy and I’m glad that Devon’s chest is bringing him Closure too.

Mrs. Brook is at the podium and she talks but I don’t know what she says until I hear her talking to me.
Caitlin. Caitlin! Please stand up. I think everyone wants to see you.
She smiles at me.

So I stand up but I don’t turn around and look at the audience because I want to see—really see—the Mockingbird on Devon’s chest so I stand on my tiptoes and stare at it. I can hear the cheering and clapping though.

Dad says,
It’s okay,
and I tell him,
I know.

Over all the noise in the auditorium I can still hear in my head what Devon told me.
I have to go now Scout. I’ll be up there. You’re going to be just fine.

I don’t know how long I stand there before Michael is pulling on my hand saying,
Caitlin there’s cake and lemonade on the lawn!

What?
I ask him.
Why would they put it on the grass?

He giggles and says,
It’s on TABLES on the grass. Come on! Let’s get some!

I look back at Dad who has stopped gripping the armrests and his lips curl up on one side and he says,
Go on Caitlin,
and I run after Michael up the aisle and out the back door of the auditorium and into the sun.

 

 

Michael and I are the first ones to the table and we both get edge pieces of cake that have lots of blue and white frosting. Josh gets one also. Some grown-ups smile at us and tell us we look like middle schoolers with all the blue and white on us. Michael grins and when I see how blue his teeth are I laugh. Even Josh smiles.

Mr. Walters the art teacher comes over while I’m sucking the last glob of blue frosting off of my finger. He hands me a sketchbook and a big box of pastel crayons.

I Look At The Person.

He smiles.
These are for you Caitlin.

Thank you,
I say, and take the sketchbook. I don’t grab the clear plastic box of pastels right away.

I know,
he says,
you don’t like colors. But I thought you might be ready to give them a try.

I stare at the colors for a moment. There are three different shades of orange AND lots of reds and yellows so you can make your own orange. And with pastels you can blur them if you want to move from one shade to another. Mr. Walters Gets It. Maybe I can too. Slowly I reach out and take the colors.

Mr. Walters winks.
See you in August.

Pass it here!
Josh shouts, and I turn to see Michael’s dad throw Josh a football. After Josh tosses it back Mr. Schneider throws the ball to Dad and he catches it. I forgot that Dad could catch a football. Dad and Devon used to throw a football in the backyard. Sometimes I played too even though I can never catch it until after it hits the ground.

Michael is still next to me but he’s stepping from one foot to the other. I can tell that he kind of wants to play football too so I tell him he should follow his empathy and go play. I watch him run and tackle Josh and they both laugh and roll in the grass.

I look down at my shoes and socks. Slowly I push off my shoes and let the cool grass tickle my feet through my socks. Then I bend down and pull my socks off and stand right on top of the grass and the earth and I feel a shiver run up my legs and all the way to my neck and it gives me a little chill. But after I move my feet from side to side a little bit I get used to the prickly cool feeling and it starts feeling softer and more like an okay touch than a tickle.

I walk barefoot over to a big oak tree and sit underneath it. The breeze blows the leaves around so it’s partly shady and partly sunny. I put the sketchbook on my lap and open my new box of colors. Now I’m ready to use them because I figured out how I’m going to draw the whole complete picture. I smile and begin.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The shootings of thirty-three people at Virginia Tech University in Blacksburg, Virginia, on April 16, 2007, were horrible and devastating. While I may not have known those involved personally, it happened in my own backyard. It was the deadliest shooting by a lone gunman in United States history. And wherever or whenever this kind of tragedy occurs, it affects us all. How could something like this happen? Why? What, if anything, could we have done to prevent it? Who knows. But I am certain of one thing. If we all understood each other better, we could go a long way toward stopping violence. We all want to be heard, to be understood. Some of us are better than others at expressing ourselves. Some of us have severe problems that need to be addressed, not ignored, no matter what the cost. Saving society money is a travesty if the cost of that savings is in human lives.
Ignore
and
ignorance
share the same root.

This book was inspired by the events at Virginia Tech as well as my own need to try to explain what it’s like for a child to have Asperger’s syndrome. The two themes are related in my mind because I believe strongly in early intervention, whatever the disability. Understanding people’s difficulties and—just as crucial—helping people understand their own difficulties
and
teaching them concrete ways to help themselves will help them better deal with their own lives and, in turn, ours. In this novel, the main character has Asperger’s syndrome but is receiving early intervention through the public school system. She has only one parent and he is far from perfect. Her brother was the family member who really listened to her, tried to understand her, and taught her helpful behavioral skills. Unfortunately, he is killed in a school shooting, and now, but for her school counselor, she is on her own. I hope that, by getting inside her head, readers will understand seemingly bizarre behavior. And I hope that readers will see that, by getting inside someone’s head, really understanding that person, so many misunderstandings and problems can be avoided—misunderstandings and problems that can lead to mounting frustration and, sometimes, even violence.