And she was running out of people to give them to. Their cleaning lady already had two necklaces, a bracelet, and three sets of earrings. And the cleaning lady’s kid had a sea glass necklace she had made him that he’d drawn a big W on with a Sharpie marker. “For Wolverine,” he told her. I had a whole cigar box full of necklaces. Some of which I’d just hang in the windows of my room to catch the light. Declan took her sea glass stuff and actually put it back in the sea. “It’ll get better with time,” he told her when she caught him doing it. Before Becky started getting high, she used to do schoolwork with the same intense concentration. But now it was just coding and sea glass and she seemed much happier now.
“What did Fitz want?” Becky asked, brushing her long red hair out of her face as we ducked beneath the low branches that hung before the footpath down to the creek. The fall leaves crunched beneath our feet and the air smelled good, like autumn: wood smoke and mud and pine and the faint brackish salty smell of the ocean that hung in the air all around.
Declan said, “He wanted me to show some new kid around. I swear, he thinks just ’cause of my PSAT scores, I always gotta represent the school or some bullshit.”
“It’s your own fault,” I said. “You could stop winning chess games and science fairs and maybe drop out of the Model UN and debate team. The reason he got that idea is because you actually do represent the school. Duh.”
Becky nodded in agreement. “Shoulda done the wake-and-bake method of studying for the P-sat,” she said, inhaling deeply and passing the bowl to him. She coughed and smiled. “I think that helped knock me down to average from slightly above. Except in math.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think anything could depose you from being the scary computer math nerd queen,” I said. “Anyway, who’s the kid?”
“Graham somebody.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Graham Copeland?!” I shouted. “Gross. That’s the creepy fucking dweeb I was telling you about.”
I took the bowl from Declan. Becky was laughing at the way I’d said “creepy dweeb,” or maybe the way a squirrel had run across our path, or she was just laughing because, as usual, she was high or thinking about something else when other people were talking—I couldn’t tell which.
Declan shrugged. “The car kid?”
“Creepy dweeb,” Becky said to herself, snickering.
“Oh my God, you’ll be with him all day and telling him about school? This is too good. You have to tell me all about him.” I handed Becky the bowl and grinned back at Declan. “I just know there’s something weird going on there. There’s a story in there that we don’t know.”
Declan shrugged. “Your motivations seem suspect, Tate. Him being a dweeb or a nerd or socially outside the norm is hardly a reason for me to spy on him, but perhaps you’d like to simply admit to us how you feel about this creeb. This dewy breec, this weepy bed wrec.”
“Oh God! Stop with the anagrams!” Becky yelled. “He’s worse with the anagrams when he’s stoned,” she told me, but of course I already knew this.
“It’s true,” I said, looking at Declan. I don’t think those even count as anagrams. Weepy Bed Wreck? He’s just making up words.
“I’m simply saying that if you want me to spy on him because you feel hormonally compelled to spend time with him, you might as well just say so.”
Becky looked at me, rolled her eyes, then started laughing again. Declan grabbed me around the waist and spun me in a circle. “Tate’s got a crush!” he said, and then kissed me.
“You know who I’ve got a crush on,” I told him, looking right into his eyes.
He smiled at me, returned the look. “Life’s long, Tate. There’s lots of crushes to have.”
The woods were becoming prettier by the second and I was happy to be there with my two best friends. We walked along the trail out to where it met back up with the road that led to our neighborhood. Then I put the skateboard back down on the pavement.
“Of course I’ll check him out for you,” Declan said.
“Can we please go buy some Doritos now?” Becky asked. “Or cake. Oh! You know what would be good? Cupcakes. My mom made some yesterday. Let’s go to my place.”
“I’m gonna skate,” I told them. The fact was I loved skating when I was a little high. There was a good winding downhill to my house and almost never any cars and it felt amazing to cruise down it right to the door of my house. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye!” they yelled in unison, grinning and looking like the coolest people you could ever spend an afternoon with. I watched them turn around and walk beneath the trees that flanked the sides of the road, leaves just beginning to turn yellow and hope and mystery filling our whole small world. Then I got on my board and leaned into the curve, coasting home.
From: [email protected]
Dear Dr. Adams,
We’d like to thank you for all the help you’ve given Graham over the last year.
As you know, he will be starting school again next week, and we are beginning to feel some trepidation. Kim has mentioned again the possibility of homeschooling—she would be able to stay home with him and has the credentials to teach him, and we feel they have as strong a relationship as a boy like Graham could have with a stepparent. We were wondering if you could advise us. I’m sure you understand our concerns, and I’m wondering if maybe this is the best route to take.
I know you’ve said it’s important for him to get some socialization, and while we essentially agree, the fear and risk of reliving anything close to what happened in Virginia has made us very reticent. We’re concerned that his social life be a healthy one. We don’t want to see any more heartache.
We’ve read the books you recommended about the benefits of combining drug regimens with talk therapy, and in theory we are fully ready to support Graham any way we can, but in practice it seems daunting.
He’s still working on the Austin, and I’m planning on buying him another antique car for Christmas, which I think will also be therapeutic. And we’re getting him that better telescope he wanted. Trying to encourage his healthy preoccupations. His mechanical skills are really quite excellent, and the best times we have together are in the garage just tinkering. Or outside looking at the stars.
We’ve tried harder than anyone to put the past behind us and invested as much as a family can in the health of our child. We’ve come a long way from last year. But I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t still afraid of my own son sometimes. I’m hoping that you can give us the best advice. We agree that his spending should be monitored, and there’s no need for him to have his own source of income at this point. He’s getting his usual allowance, and we make purchases for him. I’m happy to update you regularly as we make this transition.
Also we know that there have been some advancements in the drug regimens since Graham was prescribed, and we’d like to make sure he’s on the best possible plan. Please let us know about any pharmaceuticals you think could make this time easier for him. Thank you again for your support.
Best,
David Copeland
After that first day when we saw him out by his car, it seemed like he was always around. I would almost say lurking around but it was his own house, so I guess you’d just call it hanging out. Most of the time he was working on his fancy car or filming things.
Once when I was practicing some tricks in the driveway he came over and asked if he could film me—you know, doing kick flips and simple stuff.