فصل بیست و یکم

Chapter 21

“Hello, Bradley,” said Carla. “It’s a pleasure to see you today. I appreciate your coming to see me.” She held out her hand.

“I punched myself in the eye,” he said as he walked past her. He didn’t want her thinking someone else gave it to him. “I’m the only one who can beat me up.” “Did it hurt?” she asked.

“No,” he said, sitting at the round table. “Nobody can hurt me. Not even me.” She sat across from him. She was wearing a light blue shirt with yellow mice running all over it. The shirt was the same color as her eyes. The mice were the same color as her hair.

“I wanted to hit somebody,” he explained as he stared at her shirt. “But if I hit another kid, I would have gotten in trouble, so I hit myself.” “Why’d you want to hit somebody?”

“Because I hate him.”

“Who?”

“Everybody.”

“Is that why you hit yourself? Do you hate yourself?” He didn’t answer. He thought it was another one of her trick questions.

“Do you like yourself?” she asked.

He didn’t trust that question either.

“Maybe the reason you say you don’t like anybody else is because you really don’t like yourself.” “I like myself,” he said. “You’re the one I don’t like!” “Tell me some things about yourself that you like.” He glared at her.

“I like you,” she said. “I think you have lots of good qualities. But I want you to tell me things you like about yourself.” “I can’t talk anymore,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I’m sick. The doctor said I can’t talk. The more I talk, the sicker I get.” “That sounds serious.”

“It is! I’ve probably said too much already, and it’s your fault. I’ll probably throw up.” Carla nodded. “Don’t say another word,” she said quietly. “We’ll just sit together in silence. Sometimes people can learn a lot about each other just by sitting together in silence.” She locked her mouth shut, then opened it to swallow the key.

“You’re weird,” said Bradley.

“A lot of people tell me that,” she admitted, then put her finger to her lips.

They sat together in silence. Bradley shifted in his chair. His eyes darted restlessly around the room. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, then brought his hands out in front of him and folded them. Then he unfolded them.

He didn’t like sitting together in silence. He thought she was probably learning too much about him. “I can probably talk a little bit,” he said.

“No, I don’t want you to get sick,” said Carla. “I like you too much.” “The doctor says I’m supposed to talk a little, just not a lot.” “All right. Shall we talk about school?”

“No! The doctor says if I talk about school, I’ll die!” Carla frowned. “That’s a problem,” she said. “See, as part of my job, I’m supposed to help you do better in school. But how can I help you if we can’t even talk about it?” Bradley put his fingers to his chin and thought it over. “I know!” he said. “Just tell everybody that you tried to help me, but I wouldn’t let you. Tell them that I was too mean and nasty. That’s it. Tell them I said I’d spit on you.” “Oh no, I couldn’t say that about you,” said Carla. “You’re too nice.” “They’ll believe you,” he assured her.

“It doesn’t matter whether they believe me or not,” said Carla. “I’d know it was a lie.” “So?”

“So when you tell a lie, the only person you’re lying to is yourself.” He didn’t see anything wrong with that. If you’re only lying to yourself, and you know it’s a lie, then it doesn’t matter.

“I just wish I knew why a smart kid like you keeps failing.” “It’s because Mrs. Ebbel doesn’t like me,” said Bradley.

“Shh!” said Carla. “Don’t talk about it!” “Well, I can probably talk about school a little bit without dying,” he said.

“O-kay,” Carla said hesitatingly, “but as soon as you feel even a little bit like dying, let me know and we’ll stop.” They talked about school for about fifteen minutes before Bradley felt like dying. Carla pointed out that the same questions that were on the tests were also on his homework assignments. She suggested that if he did his homework, the tests might be easy for him.

“The tests are easy,” he told her. “I could get a hundred if I wanted. I’m the oldest kid in the class. I answer all the questions wrong on purpose.” “You want to know what I think?” asked Carla. “I think you would like to get good grades. I think that the only reason you say you want to fail is because you’re afraid to try. You’re afraid that even if you try, you’ll still fail.” “I’m not afraid of anything,” said Bradley.

“I think you’re afraid of yourself,” said Carla. “But you shouldn’t be. I have lots of confidence in you, Bradley. I know you’d do so well, if only you’d try. I can help you. We can help each other. We can try together.” It was then that he told her he couldn’t talk about school anymore or else he’d die.

She thanked him for talking about it as much as he had. “You were very brave,” she said. She suggested that for their next meeting he make a list of topics to discuss so that they wouldn’t have to risk talking about school again.

“Is that homework?” he asked.

“No-o-o,” she assured him. “You don’t even have to put your name at the top.” “Good,” said Bradley. He was glad it wasn’t homework.

It was time to return to class. “Thank you for sharing so much with me today,” Carla said to him. “I enjoyed your visit very much.” She held out her hand.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked out of her office.