Mockingbird (9 page)

I don’t tell Dad that I didn’t ask Devon if I could have his room when he was gone. I asked him a different way.

And Devon said it was a weird way and I shouldn’t say it like that and I asked why.

He said people would get upset.

I don’t want Dad to get upset.

So I don’t say what I really said:
Can I have your room when you’re dead?

I think maybe I understand what Devon meant. Because now I have a recess feeling in my stomach.

I slide out from my hidey-hole and crawl past Dad’s shoes to my room. I get a clean piece of paper and make a sign. It says,
Devon’s Room,
and I draw Devon’s eyes in the top left corner. In the top right corner I draw his mouth with his lips curled up to show he’s happy. I draw his crooked nose in the bottom left corner. His chest is in the bottom right corner. It’s still not finished. And I guess it never will be.

CHAPTER 19

SHOES

EARLY TUESDAY MORNING RACHEL Lockwood comes into class and her face is scratched up and purple. Her left arm and leg are bandaged. Everyone crowds around her saying,
Oh my gosh! What happened? Are you okay?

I fell off my bike,
Rachel says.

How?
someone asks.

Oh my gosh! Was there?
a girl asks.

No—duh!
a boy says.
We would’ve heard by now.

Rachel shakes her head.
No. But I was watching the police car coming up the road so I wasn’t watching where I was going and I went off the sidewalk and fell off my bike.
She looks down.
It really hurt. I was riding so fast to try to get away because I was scared of being shot like . . .
She stops talking and turns to me. So does everyone else. It is very quiet.

You should watch where you’re going when you’re riding a bike,
I tell her. That’s what Devon always told me.

Some people turn away and some shake their heads but I know I’m right. Emma and some of the other girls stand around Rachel so she is in the middle of a circle and they are all staring at her. I wouldn’t like that so I stare at them and hope they get the message to leave her alone.

Finally Rachel asks if her face looks really bad and Emma says,
Of course not. It looks totally fine.

Rachel says,
Really?
She looks around and her eyes stop at me.

I look away because I wasn’t staring at her like those other girls.

What?
she asks. Her voice is soft and shaky.
Does my face look bad?

Even though I’m not looking at her I can feel her Look At The Person. I wonder how she knows that honesty is one of my skills.
Yes,
I say.
It looks bad. It’s purple and puffy and really gross.

Rachel starts crying and runs out of the room.

CAITLIN!
Emma yells.
That was so mean! Didn’t anyone ever tell you how to be a friend?

That’s when I realize that maybe I should listen to Mrs. Brook when she talks about friends. Now that Devon isn’t here to tell me.

I try to say that purple is actually my favorite color but too many of the girls are yelling at me. They say that Rachel will be self-conscious and embarrassed and it’s all my fault.

I hate self-conscious and embarrassed. I decide to help Rachel. I’m a very helpful person. I look around the room but I know there’s no place for her to hide. There’s no sofa or blanket or anyplace where she can be in her Personal Space and not have people staring at her.

Then I have an idea. I pull her desk out of the row and push it all the way to the back corner of the room and shove it up against the wall where the terrarium was until the turtle died.

I hear voices saying,
What is she doing?

But I don’t care. I’m being a friend.

I go back and get Rachel’s chair and put it under her desk so it’s facing the corner. Now no one can see her face and she can hide from everyone. I’m happy until Emma and Rachel come back and Rachel starts crying again and Emma starts yelling and pulls the desk out of the corner and I try to stop her and Mrs. Johnson comes in and says,
What in the world is going on?

Emma says how mean I’m being and Mrs. Johnson gives me her pinched lip stern look and says,
What’s this all about?
And I tell her I’m just trying to be a friend.

Some of the boys laugh but the girls are mad and Mrs. Johnson takes me all the way to Mrs. Brook’s room herself even though I know how to get there.

 

 

I sit at Mrs. Brook’s table and cry because even though I Work At It I still don’t Get It.
I was being a friend!

I know you were,
Mrs. Brook says,
and I know that you might feel comforted by sitting in the corner and not having people look at you but Rachel doesn’t.

I Look At The Person.

Empathy,
Mrs. Brook says.
Remember? It means to try to feel the way someone else is feeling. You step out of your own shoes and put on someone else’s because you’re trying to BE that person for a moment. In Rachel’s case you want to try to feel how she might feel having all those obvious injuries.

I think you can learn empathy.
Mrs. Brook smiles at me.
In fact I’m sure of it.
She goes on to explain life the way Rachel sees it.

I listen but I don’t want to tell her that it’s not life how I see it. I also don’t want to tell her that I’m not sure I can learn how to do empathy. She seems so sure that I can.

I look down at my shoes. Quietly I slip them off. My feet feel cold and clammy because my socks are sweaty. I carefully touch my toes onto the floor which is hard and cold. I pull my feet off of the floor and shove them back into my sneakers. At least I tried dipping my toe in empathy.

CHAPTER 20

EMPATHY

I STARE AT THE SIGN I PUT ON Devon’s door for a long time. I realize they are the first eyes I have ever drawn. And how much they look like Devon’s. I wonder how the picture would look if I put the eyes together with the broken nose and his mouth. It would be a complete face. Of Devon. And I would always know what he looked like even when I grow up. He could always be with me.

I wonder if putting a whole face together would help bring me closer to Closure. If it’s split apart into pieces then wouldn’t putting all the pieces together bring Closure? But I’ve never done a whole face before. I don’t want to mess it up. It has to be right.

I hear Dad turning off Fox Five News and sighing. I remember what Mrs. Brook said about practicing empathy and I go into the living room and look at Dad’s shoes.

I’m not sure what to say next. His shoes don’t give me any clues.
Um . . . so how are you?

Dad looks up from the sofa.
Actually I’m dealing with a lot of stuff right now.

Dad nods.

Dad doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even nod.

I don’t even know where to begin.
He stares at the rug.

Even when the phone rings.

Phone,
I tell him.

It rings again.
Phone.

And again.
PHONE,
I say LOUD in case he didn’t hear
.

Please answer it,
he says
.

I get a recess feeling in my stomach. I hate answering the phone. I don’t know who it will be or what they will say.

The phone rings two more times.

I run to the phone and grab it because I hate shouting even worse than the phone. At least you can hang up the phone.

Hello,
says the voice.
Hello?

It sounds like Aunt Jolee.

Dad and I are here,
I say
.

I wait for her to talk more.

I look at the sofa. Dad is still staring at the spot on the rug.
He’s dealing with a lot of stuff right now. But he won’t read any books about it or go see Mrs. Brook or any other counselor.

Dad looks up from the sofa.
Who is it?

He oofs like all the air goes out of him when he stands up and reaches for the phone.

I give it to him.

He leans against the wall.
Hi Jo-Jo.

Jo-Jo is Dad’s name for Aunt Jolee. It’s a nickname. Like Scout. Dad is Aunt Jolee’s big brother. Like Jem. Like Devon. Like Devon WAS. Dad still has Aunt Jolee’s finger-painted handprint from when she was in kindergarten. It’s in a little blue frame on the wall by the TV. It says TO HARE on it because when she was five she wasn’t very smart and couldn’t spell Dad’s name the right way which is Harry.

Dad shakes his head while he talks to Aunt Jolee.
I can’t afford to see a counselor.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

I know Jo-Jo. Of course you can’t leave them. They’re too young.
Dad is nodding
. I wish you lived closer too. You’re still my best . . . friend.
When he says the word friend a cry comes out of him.

He slides down the wall and sits on the floor. He drops his head and tries to cover it with the hand that’s not holding the phone but I can see his head shaking along with his hand and the phone. I can hear him sniffing too. Then he takes a deep breath and looks up at Aunt Jolee’s handprint on the wall and says,
Thank you.

I try not to listen to Dad because I’ve had all the empathy I can take right now. Empathy can make you feel really sad.

I put my head under the sofa cushion and peek out at Devon’s chest.

I hear Dad say
Thank you
again.

I keep staring at Devon’s chest because it makes me feel like a little bit of him is still here. Even though I know he’ll never be able to teach me how to make a chest. Even though he won’t be able to teach me anything. Even though I’ll never see him again and won’t ever be able to look at him and say,
Thank you.

The more I look at the chest the more I start turning it from a sharp-shaped sheet into something soft. I guess I’m stuffed-animaling even though I don’t mean to. It’s easy when your eyes are already blurry.

CHAPTER 21

NO MRS. BROOK

THE REST OF THE CLASS RUNS out of the classroom to go to recess. I get up to go to Mrs. Brook time and I decide to ask her if Dad can come see her since she doesn’t charge insurance. At least she never charges me insurance. And she said she could see him even though he’s a grown-up.

Mrs. Johnson says,
Oh Caitlin. I almost forgot. Mrs. Brook isn’t here.

I Look At The Person.

Mrs. Johnson looks at the floor and then at me.
She’s having a lot of trouble with her twin babies who aren’t born yet.

Sometimes it’s before and after. So Mrs. Brook is going to see what she can do to help her sister.
She sighs.
I hope everything goes well.

I wonder what that means.
What if it doesn’t?

How does she know?
Are you pregnant?

Mrs. Johnson’s face turns pinkish.
N-no.

I don’t want to be pregnant either,
I say
. I have enough hard things to Deal With.