It reminded me of one time when my parents took me to the zoo when I was maybe four or five. I wanted to see the bears, so we went over there and stood with a bunch of other people looking at them. They were brown bears, I remember that, some kind of grizzlies. Everyone was pointing and talking, and the bears were walking around playing with these big plastic balls or sitting in the pool and doing what bears do. All except one. He was sitting in the grass, just looking at the crowd of people. Only he wasn’t really looking at us, he was looking past us, as if he was trying to see something way off in the distance. I remember how sad he looked, and I remember starting to cry. My parents thought I was afraid, and took me away, but that wasn’t it. I was sad. I was sad for that poor bear having to sit in that pen while a bunch of stupid people looked at him and he had to pretend he was someplace else.
That’s how Juliet looked, like she could see where she wanted to be but couldn’t get there because she was trapped inside something. After a while she put one hand out through the invisible bars, like she was trying to give something to someone. She held it in her palm, like a present. I wanted to reach out and take it, but I remembered that we were just supposed to watch, so I didn’t. Instead, I watched her eyes. They were fixed on something behind me. I turned my head to see what it was and saw Bone standing with his back to us. He was watching Alice and didn’t see Juliet reaching for him.
I totally don’t feel sorry for her now. Bone? How pathetic is that, being so in love with someone who isn’t even interested in you? Juliet told us that she’s here because she has an eating disorder. I don’t know about that. I mean, she’s not exactly skinny. I asked Sadie if she’s ever heard Juliet yakking up dinner in the bathroom, and she said she hasn’t. So we think maybe Juliet’s got a bunch of other problems she just hasn’t told us about. Yet. I’m sure she will. But really I don’t care. If it turns out being in love with Bone is her big problem, I’m going to be really pissed off. What a waste of time.
A minute after I caught Juliet staring at Bone, Cat Poop called out for us to switch, and Juliet sat down without saying anything. I got up and just stood there, not knowing what to do. I felt incredibly stupid. I knew Juliet was waiting for me to do something, but nothing was coming to me. I kept seeing her face, then the bear’s face, and then the two faces together, like Juliet was wearing a bear mask or the bear was wearing a Juliet mask.
Then I realized that I couldn’t think of anything to do because I really didn’t know what I was feeling. All week, I’ve just been not thinking much about it. Even when I’m talking about it, I’m not really thinking about it. I’m just saying stuff because someone wants me to. I feel like one of the characters in the movie Sadie and I watched the other night, where I’m playing this part but the words that come out of me belong to someone else because the sound is turned off and what I’m saying can’t be heard.
That’s when I got mad. Mad at my parents for finding me. Mad at myself for not doing it right. Mad at Cat Poop for making me do stupid exercises like standing in front of Juliet looking like an idiot.
So I was just standing there with Juliet watching, and inside of me all of this stuff was whirling around and around like a tornado. But on the outside I was frozen. I couldn’t move. So I stood there for the five minutes until Cat Poop told us to stop.
Then it got worse. We had to get together with our partner and talk about what we saw when we looked at each other. I told Juliet that I saw someone who felt trapped, which was a no-brainer. She was all excited, and I knew it wasn’t because I’d understood what she was saying, but because she thought she was such a great actress. She kept asking, “Did you like how I” did this and that. I told her she was great, because I figured if I could keep her talking about herself we might never get to talking about me.
I did pretty well, too. When Cat Poop announced that we only had two minutes left, we hadn’t said a word about me. I thought I was going to get out of it, only then Juliet looked at me and said, really quick, “You’re hiding something.”
I thought she was accusing me of taking something, so I said, “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” she said. “There’s something inside you that you don’t want anyone to see.”
And then time was up and group was over. Juliet immediately ran over to see what Bone was doing, and I just sat there. Sadie came and sat next to me.
“How was mime time with Juliet?” she asked me.
“Lame,” I said, trying not to think about what Juliet had said to me.
Sadie snorted. “Want to play cards?”
“Do we have to talk about how we feel?”
“Hell no,” said Sadie. “In fact, if you say one word about what’s going on in there, I’m finding another poker buddy.”
That’s what I need more of: people who just leave me alone.
Day 10
I couldn’t sleep again tonight. I don’t know why. I’m pretty used to functioning without the little blue pill now, and it wasn’t like I was having bad dreams or anything. I just couldn’t sleep. So I went into the lounge, thinking I might finally write Allie that letter after all or maybe help Nurse Moon with her crossword. But Sadie was in there, sitting on the couch and reading a magazine.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked her.
“Did you know that only about half of the eggs that get fertilized ever actually turn into babies?” she said, putting down the magazine. “And out of those, only about eighty percent are actually born. The rest get miscarried.” She counted on her fingers. “That means out of a hundred fertilized eggs, only forty are ever born.”
“Those aren’t the best odds,” I said.
“And that doesn’t include the ones who are born with defects,” Sadie added. “That’s something like another ten, so ultimately we only have about a thirty percent chance of coming out with no defects.”
“I guess it depends what you consider a defect,” I told her.
She nodded. “If you look at it that way, there’s like a zero chance of being born normal. But think about it: Right from the start the odds are against you. It’s kind of amazing that any of us ever get here at all.”
“Sort of makes you feel even worse about trying to kill yourself, doesn’t it?” I said.
Sadie shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” she said. “But yeah, I guess it does in a way.”
“Are you sorry you tried?” I asked her.
She looked out the window. It was snowing. Not hard, just a few flakes. If I’d been at home I would have been hoping for it to turn into a blizzard so that school would be canceled. But when you’re locked up, blizzards don’t mean much.
“I don’t know if I’m sorry or not,” Sadie said. “If I hadn’t tried, I’d probably still be sitting around in my bedroom being miserable and writing bad poems.”
“I don’t think most people would consider that a good deal,” I said.
“Maybe not,” she told me. “What about you, are you sorry you . . . did what you did?”
“I’m sorry they stopped me,” I told her.
“What’s so bad about your life?” she said. “From what you’ve told me about your family, they don’t sound so bad.”
“They’re not,” I admitted. “They aren’t the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“I am,” I said. “I’m the problem.”
“And what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “I’m just complicated.”
Sadie rolled her eyes at me. “Everyone thinks they’re complicated,” she said. “But actually there are only a couple of things you can have wrong with you. Which one did you get? Low self-esteem? Fear of failure? A martyr complex? Trust me, after three shrinks and a couple of visits to this place, I’m an expert on all of them.”
I was surprised to hear her say that. I didn’t know she’d been in the hospital before. “I thought this was your first time here,” I said.
“Second,” s
he said. “The first time it didn’t take, so they sent me back. But we’re not talking about me; we’re talking about you. So talk.”
“I have a better idea,” I said. “Let’s watch some TV.”
I turned the set on and flipped around. Finally I settled on the Lifetime channel, which is always guaranteed to have on some completely idiotic movie about a girl with anorexia, or a woman who gets amnesia and forgets she has an evil twin, or maybe even a family who hires a really creepy babysitter who ends up stalking them. And sometimes you hit the jackpot and end up with a movie that has all of those things in it. And believe me, a movie about an anorexic twin with amnesia who hires a psychotic babysitter is not to be missed.
“Want to play the dialogue game?” I asked Sadie.
“You’re on,” she said, and I turned the sound off.
We sat and watched the movie for a few minutes until we had the main characters figured out. One was a teenage girl, and the other was an older woman who seemed to be the girl’s mother. They were in a diner, eating greasy burgers and arguing about something.
“I’ll take the mother,” Sadie said. “Alison, I know you’re keeping something from me,” she said in what was supposed to be a motherly voice.
Alison is Allie’s real name, and for a second I wondered if Sadie had picked it on purpose. But there’s no way she could know about her. It was just a freaky coincidence.
“What makes you think I’m hiding something?” I said, trying to sound like an annoyed teenage girl.
“I found your diary,” said Sadie. “And I read it.”
“How could you!” I said.
“I had to, Alison,” Sadie continued. “And I’m glad I did. How else would I have known about . . .”
“About what?” I demanded. “What do you know about?”
“About Chris,” said Sadie. “That’s right, I know about Chris.”
“I was going to tell you,” I said.
Sadie shook her head. “I’m so disappointed in you, Alison. How could you not tell me? I’m your mother. If you’re seeing a boy, you should talk to me about it.”
“Chris isn’t a boy,” I said, surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth.
Sadie turned and looked at me. “What?” she said.
“Chris isn’t a boy,” I repeated. “Chris is . . . a girl.”
Sadie cracked up. “I didn’t see that one coming,” she said in her real voice. “Good twist. I thought she was just going to be knocked up.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t go wrong with a teenage lesbian story line,” I said. “Had enough?”
Sadie nodded. “I think we’ve worn this one out. Besides, I’m kind of tired. I’m going to bed. What about you?”
“I’m going to stay up for a while,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After Sadie left I just sat there looking at the television screen. The sound was still off. In the movie, the girl and the woman had gotten into a car and were driving somewhere. They were still arguing. I watched their mouths moving without any sound coming out. And the more I watched them, the more I thought that that’s exactly how most people are. They move their mouths, but nothing important comes out. They just talk and talk and talk.
That’s what Cat Poop wants me to do: talk. But like I keep telling him, there’s nothing to say.
Day 11
Oh, man, was today weird—the freak show to end all freak shows. It started at breakfast. Today was pancake day, which we have once a week, and everyone was pretty stoked. It’s totally queer to get excited about pancakes, I know, but compared to oatmeal and dry scrambled eggs, pancakes are a big deal.
There was sausage, too. That’s what started it, the sausage. See, we were all eating, minding our own business and getting lost in the whole syrup sugar-rush thing, when all of a sudden Alice picked up a sausage and started waving it around. She looked like she was conducting an orchestra, moving that sausage up and down to some music only she could hear. The Sausage Symphony in Nut-job Flat, I guess.
Then she started talking. “This little piggy burned up,” she said. “This little piggy burned up. This little piggy went wee-wee-wee, all the way home.” Then she laughed, a weird little laugh that sounded like she was strangling.
Juliet was sitting next to her, and she tried to put her arm around Alice and calm her down. But Alice yelled, “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch the little piggy! I’ll burn you up!” Then she giggled some more.
I’m telling you, it was totally bizarre. By that point the nurses had come out, and they were trying to calm Alice down. But the more they touched her, the more she yelled. She just kept yelling, “This little piggy burned up! Wee-wee-wee! Wee-wee-wee!”
The rest of us just sat there and watched. I mean, what else are you going to do? She was totally losing it right in front of us. “Wee-wee-wee! Wee-wee-wee!” And she really did sound like a pig, like she was on fire and squealing in pain.
The nurses finally had to call one of the orderlies to come help them. He pinned Alice’s hands behind her back, but she kept right on screaming “Wee-wee-wee!” Only now she was sort of crying-laughing, like she’d completely lost her mind. They dragged her out of the room. Her hair was all wild because she kept shaking her head from side to side. “All the way home,” she was saying between squeals. “All the way home.”
The weirdest part was that after she was gone everyone else just went back to their pancakes, like nothing had happened. I guess maybe it didn’t seem like a big deal because they’re crazy too. Maybe this kind of thing happens all the time. But not to me.
“What was that?” I asked Sadie, who was sitting across from me.
She shrugged. “Who knows,” she said. “She just snapped.”
“Just like that?” I said.
“Sure,” Sadie said, like she knew all about it. “The last time I was here, a kid woke up one morning and thought he was Santa Claus. He came out with this pillowcase full of stuff he’d taken from his room, and started handing things out like it was Christmas morning.”
Next to her, Bone laughed. “That’s excellent,” he said.
“It’s weird,” I said, looking at Bone. It occurred to me today that I have no idea why he’s here. I’d ask him, but I really don’t care. Besides, there’s enough weird to go around as it is. He can keep his to himself.
“Whatever,” said Sadie. “Anyway, they’ll drug her up and she’ll forget all about it.” She picked up a sausage and waggled it at me. “Wee-wee-wee,” she said. “Wee-wee-wee.”
Bone cracked up. “Wee-wee-wee,” he said, joining in.
At first I thought it was kind of mean of them to make fun of Alice. But it wasn’t like she was there to hear them. And, anyway, maybe that’s how nutcases handle things like that. I wouldn’t know.
Only Juliet didn’t laugh. She just sat in her seat, picking at her pancakes. She had a blank expression on her face, like she was trying really hard not to think about anything at all.
Later on, in group, Cat Poop talked about what had happened.
“Is Alice all right?” Juliet asked him. It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t all right. She was nuts. But Cat Poop knew what Juliet wanted to hear, because he said, “She’ll be okay.”
Okay? How can she be okay? She set her mom’s boyfriend on fire after he did who knows what to her, she’s in a mental hospital, and she thinks she’s the piggy who went wee-wee-wee all the way home. That’s pretty much the definition of not okay. I shook my head.
“Are you concerned about Alice, Jeff?” Cat Poop asked me.
That was a good question, I’ll give him that. I mean, Alice and I weren’t friends or anything, but I did feel a little bad for her. After all, it’s not her fault she’s nuts, right? She had a lot of bad stuff happen to her. But like I said, we weren’t friends.
“I just want to make sure what she has isn’t contagious,” I told Cat Poop.
He pushed his glasses up, so I knew he was annoyed at me. “I think you
know the answer to that,” he said.
“It’s a good question, though,” said Sadie. “What if Alice has some sort of virus or something that went to her brain?”
I looked over at Sadie, wondering if she was being serious. She winked at me.
“Alice doesn’t have a virus,” said Cat Poop.
“But there are viruses that can make your brain go all weird, right?” Sadie asked him. “Like Mad Cow.”
He sighed. “Yes, there are,” he said. “But no one here has a virus.”
I gave a fake sneeze. “Uh-oh,” I said. “I think I’m coming down with something.” Then I oinked. “I think it’s Mad Piggy!”
“Wee-wee-wee,” Bone said. Cat Poop looked at him. “Wee-wee-wee,” Bone said again. “I think I’m coming down with something too.”
Then Sadie started. She fake sneezed and said, “Wee-wee-wee,” along with Bone. The two of them were trying really hard not to crack up, and so was I.
Then Juliet stood up. “Shut up!” she screamed at us. “Shut the hell up!”
We did shut up. She’s never yelled like that, and it took us by surprise. Juliet glared at us, her hands clenched and her whole body shaking, like she was trying to make our heads explode using the superpowers of her mind.
“Stop making fun of her,” she said, really softly. “Just stop. It’s not funny.” Then she sat down again and looked at the floor.
Maybe she had a point. But come on. Someone yelling about being a little piggy going wee-wee-wee all the way home is kind of funny when you think about it. Sure, I feel bad for Alice, but that’s no reason to go all serious. You’ve got to laugh at stuff.
Anyway, I’m not like Alice. I’m not like the rest of them either. So excuse me if I get a little sarcastic about it when they do something nutty.
Day 12
Alice is gone. Bone told us this morning over breakfast.
“They shipped her out to Morning View,” he said between bites of cereal. “I heard the nurses talking about it.”
Suicide Notes Page 5