Old Wounds (5 page)

Then she left with Jason Fox.
Jason Fox
of all people. I didn’t have anything against him. Well, except for the drugs he used and sold.

Sophie and Jason didn’t return, and when she came into the greenhouse after lunch, I nearly fainted. The only open seat was next to me and Mr. Reese had
promised
it would stay that way, but apparently just like everyone else, his promises meant next to nothing, because Sophie came and sat down next to me.

I tried to calm down by telling myself this would get me used to being around her. After all, tomorrow I was going to have to spend even more time with her. As she sat down, I could smell that she’d been smoking marijuana.

It made me think of my mother; not Stephen’s ex-wife, but my real mother. I did my best to push that back, instead trying to concentrate on breathing.

Mr. Reese betrayed me a second time as he called on me with a question about soil microbes and I had to answer. Of course, my slow mouth and mind couldn’t figure out a way for me to not sound like a stammering idiot. I could always hear myself think without the stutter, but the moment I pushed air through my voice box, it got stuck.

I was used to the snickering when I had to speak in front of people, and for the most part, all of these kids were used to it and no longer found it funny. But Chris Anderson wasn’t one of them. He had to turn around and say “V-v-very g-g-good, D-D-Dalton.” Truthfully though, I wouldn’t have minded as much if I hadn’t been sitting next to Sophie.

Then as Chris laughed in my face, Sophie told him to stop being a dick. It actually made me a little happy that she would do that for me, even though she didn’t know me. But when I thought about it some more, the happiness faded. I was such a loser that the new girl had to stick up for me. It was embarrassing. I had no idea what someone like Sophie Young thought of me, but she had to know by now that I was an incredible loser.

As soon as the bell rang, I didn’t linger after class, not wanting a typical run-in with Anderson to show Sophie how truly inept I was; at least any more than I had already.

I went to the administration office and sat down, relieved to see only a few other people. I was here for my appointment with the speech pathologist. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I had to finish out my school day with a session with Ms. Rice. She was nice, and typically our sessions consisted of either talking or reading. Even after all the years of coming to Ms. Rice or people like her, my stuttering never got any better. I was sure Robin and Stephen were convinced that I wasn’t trying hard enough, but no one wanted me to speak normally more than I did.

As usual, Ms. Rice came out and got me after about five minutes. Once we were situated in the small office, her chair next to mine, she gave me a quick smile. She never sat behind her desk. I supposed it was to make her seem friendly. Perhaps I was supposed to see her as someone equal to me and trustworthy, but she had no speech impediment and probably never knew a day of ridicule in her life.

“So, Elliott, how’s the day going for you?”

I shrugged my answer, but knew immediately that she wouldn’t approve. She tilted her head and just waited, so I took a deep breath and said, “F-f-fine.” I could tell she still wasn’t pleased with my response, so I sighed and continued. “P-p-p-p-pretty normal.”

Smiling, she handed me a book. It was orange and small, and I knew exactly which one it was.

“Have you been practicing?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to start?”

“N-no.”

Again she smiled, taking the book back, flipping it open to the page she wanted me to read, and then handing it back. “Just relax, okay? It’s only the two of us and no one else is listening. And look,” she said, holding up her hands, “no notebook.”

She had stopped taking notes while I read when I told her it made me nervous. “F-fine,” I said with a sigh.

“Relax. Let your mind tell your voice box what sounds to produce, and let your mouth do what it needs to in order to let them come out naturally.”

Taking a deep breath, I looked down at the book in my lap, feeling frustrated. I hated this page. I wondered if a normal person could get through it without issues.

I tried.

I failed.

Stupid fox. Stupid kid’s book. Stupid Dr. Seuss with his impossible words and rhythm! It had taken an insane amount of time for me to get those twenty-five words out.

I looked up at Ms. Rice and I knew anguish was written all over my face because that’s what I felt. “Don’t look so down, Elliott. You improved there at the end. You stopped the prolongation of the word ‘fleas’ and there were little to no blocks in the entire paragraph. Your repetitions are what we need to tackle.”

I sighed, moving my eyes to stare out the window. It was just beginning to drizzle again.

“Elliott,” she said, drawing my attention back to her, “you need to work on relaxing. Being nervous before a sentence or a word makes it difficult for your brain to control your mouth.”

“I’m nnnnot nnnnervous,” I said.

“The prolongations in that sentence give you away. You need to remember that you have nothing to be anxious about. We’re just talking. Your entire body tenses up the minute you have to read.”

My hand moved up to my mouth and without really realizing it, I began to chew on my fingernails. I wasn’t supposed to do that, so as soon as I noticed, I threw my hand down to my lap. Ms. Rice was right about the nervousness, but I’ve never been able to tame it. Not even the anti-anxiety pills changed it.

Ms. Rice sighed and held out her hand for the book and I gave it to her, but all she did was hand me another one. It was green with a turtle on the cover. As much as I didn’t want to read aloud anymore, I knew that I could at least handle this book better. Before I could open it, she asked, “So what’s the one thing in the world that can make you relax?”

I didn’t have to think about it, but even as my mind clearly shouted the answer, my mouth botched it up. For some reason, I couldn’t get it to form the word. My cheeks ballooned as I tried to force it. My right hand clenched into a fist and I brought it down onto my thigh, hoping to kick-start my brain into working.

This was what Ms. Rice would call a “block.” It was possibly more frustrating than the actual stuttering itself. Most people had no idea how difficult it was to be able to think of a word or a sentence in your head, but have your body refuse to let it out. It was trapped in the thick cage of my mind. I sighed, my head hanging low.

“Relax. If you can’t get it out, stop trying so hard. Breathe and slowly release it.”

I did as she asked, but the word still wouldn’t come. We spent five minutes just trying to get it out. Finally, I again looked out the window and focused on the rain that slid noiselessly down the pane of glass. “M-m-m-uuuusic.”

Slumping down into my chair, I let my head fall back, my eyes tightly closed, thanking God for at least letting me get the one little word out, no matter how horrible it sounded when I did.

“Very good.” Ms. Rice’s voice annoyed me. It wasn’t very good. It was barely even mediocre. If it was very good, then I would be speaking in complete sentences in front of the entire school with my head held high. “So music relaxes you?”

I nodded and was thankful when she allowed me to get away with it. “Then what you need to do before reading or speaking is to think about the most relaxing music you know. Let that saturate your mind for a moment before trying to talk.” She nodded at the book.

“Pick a page. Listen to the music in your head. Relax, and then read.”

I sighed and flipped through the pages until I found the passage I could read the best. Taking in a deep breath, I let the sound of Tchaikovsky’s Romance Opus 5 fill my mind and I tried to get lost in it. The office disappeared, Ms. Rice disappeared, and the book within my hands disappeared. Halfway through, I felt as relaxed as I was going to be, so I opened my eyes and looked at the words. I tried not to force it. I tried to just let my brain speak to my vocal chords and the muscles in my mouth without pressure.

Three words into the first sentence, my calm broke as I stammered over one tiny little word and after that, it was a disaster.

A hand ran through my hair and I lazily opened my eyes to see Jane sitting in the backseat of David’s Scout with me. I normally disliked being touched, but Jane’s was soothing. It always took David ten minutes or more to extract himself from all of his admirers, so we usually found ourselves waiting on him. Today, she had slipped into the backseat.

I could tell by the look on her face that her day hadn’t been much better than mine. “Can I borrow your English notes?” I nodded and looked at her quizzically. “All I remember is talking about Anglo-Saxon Beowulf something, and then the next thing I know Trent’s poking me in the side, telling me that class is over.”

“I-I-I’m s-sorry.”

“Did your day suck too?” I gave her a pointed look. “Yeah, it’s Thursday, isn’t it? So I guess you won’t be talking for the next two days?” she asked, giving me a little smile. I never felt like talking after sessions with Ms. Rice. “David told me what happened this morning with Chris.” I sighed and Jane nudged me with her shoulder until I looked at her again.

“If you won’t hit him, then I will. And he said Sophie was there! Oh my goodness Elliott, she’s cute, isn’t she?”

I scowled. Jane was overly excited at the prospect of a new friend, but I was annoyed she had to remind me that I had nearly knocked Sophie over this morning and then just sat around like a lump while a jerk like Anderson made fun of me in front of her. “Don’t worry. She won’t go out with him.”

I couldn’t help it. As much as I didn’t want to speak, I had to. “I d-d-don’t c-care…” a block formed as I tried to get out my next word and I hated how long it was taking me to get out one simple sentence, “…who she g-g-g-goes out w-w-w-with, J-J-JJJJJane.” I sighed, annoyed with the time it took to say it, or that I’d actually even bothered to speak in the first place.

My annoying sister just smiled at me and ruffled my hair again. I ducked my head so that she would be forced to stop touching me. “But she’s pretty, though, isn’t she?”

I gave her a look that told her I obviously thought she was pretty.

“She’s in my Photography class. I wonder when her birthday is. I want to buy her a new camera, and some new clothes. I think she would look cute with shorter hair, don’t you?”

“S-she looks g-g-good now,” I said and then immediately hated myself for it. Jane’s smile brightened even more. I was so happy I could lighten her mood. I narrowed my eyes and clenched my jaw.

“Stop, Elliott.”

“St-st-stop what? You-you’re the one thaaaat n-n-needs to st-st-stop. Don’t b-be a…” I halted as I tried to think of a Chopin song that relaxed me before continuing, “mmmatch mmaker. It n-n-never works.”

“But you think she’s preeeeetty,” Jane sang.

“Who’s pretty?” David asked as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Sophie Young,” Jane answered.

David’s smile grew as he turned around, eyebrows raised, his eyes fixed on me. “You think she’s pretty,” he said with a nod. I sighed and rolled my eyes in response, fairly certain my face was turning an embarrassing shade of red right about then. “Well, hell yeah, she’s pretty,” he said, obviously taking my silence as an acknowledgment. He grew serious as he added, “She should stay away from Fox though.” He shrugged, turning forward and starting the Scout. “I guess she’s like that. We’ll find out soon enough.”

Thankfully everyone was quiet until we reached home. As we walked up the front steps, David unlocked the door and said, “Dr. Cannatella called out sick, so Dad’s staying late.” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing what was coming next. “Robin’s bringing dinner tonight.”

I had no idea why Stephen and Robin insisted on treating us like we were all eight-year-olds, unable to stay in the house for more than a few hours on our own. David, Jane, and I were no culinary wizards, but we certainly could survive cooking spaghetti.

With Robin came Rebecca. Since David’s girlfriend was coming over, Jane would invite Trent, leaving me alone with Robin. I shook my head, taking off my shoes carefully and placing them neatly next to the front door. I was mentally preparing for an evening with Robin and her amazing and unending bag of psychological tricks.

Dinner was exactly what I’d been expecting; an elaborate show of how much public affection Rebecca and David could get away with in front of Robin, and how much of a conversation Trent and Jane could have without saying a word. It was truly sickening. Robin tried to spark up a few conversations to include everyone, but as usual, no one was interested. Each time, I shoved some more take-out Italian food into my mouth to save myself the embarrassment of trying to have an actual conversation.

As usual, the two couples disappeared as soon as they finished eating, leaving me with Robin to clear the table. It just wasn’t fair. I was fine with cleaning up. It was almost soothing to continue the chores from my past, but being alone with Robin left me vulnerable to an impromptu session with her.

I knew she thought I needed the most help. I was the one who was socially inept and couldn’t even hold a proper conversation with anyone in the house, let alone peers or members of the opposite sex I wasn’t related to.