“And they think it was because of you?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
“Now you do think I’m cruel, right? I mean, who would do that to a sick little boy, right?”
He was silent just a little too long to please me.
“You don’t have to pick me up, and you can take Sandra Roth to Audrey’s party. She’ll be easier, for sure, because she doesn’t have all these problems that will spoil your fun,” I said, and I got out of the car before he could reply.
“Hey,” he called after me.
I kept walking, tears burning my eyes, and entered the house quickly. I never looked back. Mrs. Camden was sitting in the living room with a tall, thin, dark-brown-haired woman who looked like she had a pair of microscope lenses for eyes. Maybe that was my imagination, because I knew she was Dr. Patrick and her job was to get inside your head. She wore an ankle-length dark blue skirt and a slightly lighter blue blouse that I thought looked more like a man’s shirt. She had her long legs crossed and was sipping a cup of tea. Her thin lips softened into what looked like a crooked slice in her lean face. Then her eyes softened, too, as a full smile rippled. Mrs. Camden stood as soon as she saw me.
“Hi, Clara Sue. This is Dr. Patrick,” she said. “Why don’t you come in? I was just going up.”
“Maybe I should put my books away and change,” I said.
“Oh, we won’t be that long,” Dr. Patrick said, holding her smile but commanding with her eyes. She put her cup of tea down on the side table and unfolded her legs as she sat back on the sofa. “We should start by getting to know each other.”
“Start what?” I asked, not moving.
Mrs. Camden kept smiling but continued to walk out of the living room.
“Just give it a chance,” she whispered as she passed me.
I turned back to Dr. Patrick.
“Just a conversation, Clara Sue. Please. Won’t you sit?” she asked. She had the sort of authoritative voice that made requests sound more like commands. Mrs. Rosner, my business education teacher, sounded like that. Even the toughest boys in our class jumped when she snapped an order.
Nevertheless, I was determined not to be intimidated. Not even attempting to hide my annoyance and reluctance, I approached the chair across from her like someone on death row approaching the electric chair. I flopped into it and slammed my books onto the table beside it so hard that the lamp shook. She didn’t lose her smile. Ironically, her tolerance for bad behavior made me even angrier.
“You’re in the eleventh grade?”
“I’m sure you know that. You probably know everything about me.”
Her eyes blinked, but she otherwise didn’t reveal a note of displeasure. I was beginning to hate that smile. It seemed like a mask. I could feel the way she was taking measurement of me, making me self-conscious of my posture, the way I opened and closed my hand, and even how I was breathing. I really was under a microscope.
“I never take anything anyone says about someone else for granted,” she said. “I have the feeling you’re the same way. You like to make up your own mind and not let others do it for you.”
“That’s right. That includes everyone.”
She nodded and finally lost her smile, ready to get down to business. “I understand you do very well in school. What’s your favorite subject?”
I looked away and then turned back to her. “What’s my favorite subject, what’s my favorite color, what kind of music do I like? Let’s not dance around what’s happening here, please. I know my grandfather wanted you to see me because he thinks I’m seriously disturbed or mentally ill because of all this.”
“He doesn’t think you’re mentally ill, Clara Sue.”
“He wanted me to see you. You’re a psychiatrist, right?”
“I am. A child psychiatrist,” she said, leaning forward. “People generally think young people don’t need treatment. Most people believe all they need is more discipline. At least, I get that most of the time.”
“Is that what my grandfather thinks?”
“He wouldn’t have had us meet to talk if he believed that, would he? And he didn’t ask me to talk to you because he thought you were mentally ill. We’re just talking. I’m not giving you all sorts of diagnostic tests. There’s no reason for you to be afraid of me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not afraid of you.”