chapter seven

I wake up from a bad dream. My dad was in the dream. For a second, I think he’s here with me in my bedroom now. Then I know he isn’t. I’m alone.

I look around me. I’m in a dark room, but the door is open. Then I see my bedspread is green. I remember I’m in the group home.

Why did Mom do this to me? I think. Why did she put me here?

Peter walks by the door. He sees I’m awake. He says, “Can I come in, Jason?”

I want to say no. “Yes,” I say. It’s their house.

He sits on the floor. This makes me feel better because now he’s not so big. And because he won’t be able to hit me as fast. Still, I get ready, just in case.

“You slept a long time,” Peter says. “Are you hungry?”

I’m real hungry. “Yes,” I say.

“I’m going to bring you some supper,” Peter says. “After you eat, we’ll talk.”

I don’t want to talk. I think, What will we talk about? I’m not used to all this talking.

Peter brings me supper. There’s a lot. I want to save some to put into my dresser with the ham sandwich. But Peter watches me eat, so I can’t.

My tummy feels very full when I’m done. Peter takes the empty plate from me. Then he sits on the floor again. I sit on the bed. The door is open, so there’s somewhere to run.

Peter says, “Do you know why I held you down on your bed?”

Right away, I don’t like this talking. It makes me feel scared. I think maybe he’s going to do it again. I don’t say anything.

Peter says, “Jason, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You hurt me already,” I say.

“That’s called a restraint,” says Peter. “In this house, you may not throw things. You may not break things. We’ll restrain you if you try to hurt someone. Or if you try to hurt yourself. Do you know what a restraint is?”

“Yes,” I say. “That’s when they grab you and throw you down. They hold you so tight, your arms hurt.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” says Peter. “But you kicked me. I held you still so you couldn’t hurt me or yourself. Sometimes you get so angry, you can’t think. Then you do things you wouldn’t normally do. I held you until you weren’t angry anymore.”

“I’m still mad,” I say.

“What are you mad about?” asks Peter.

“You,” I say. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

Peter says, “That’s not up to me. Your mother asked us to take care of you for a while. You need to work out some problems here.”

This makes me scared. I think, Mom wants to get rid of me. How come nobody asks me what I want? But I don’t say it.

“What are you thinking about, Jason?” asks Peter.

I don’t think I’ll tell him. He’s a grown-up and will tell Mom. Then she’ll get mad and not let me come home. “Nothing,” I say.

“This house isn’t like your house,” says Peter. “We have different rules here. You have to follow them like everyone else. I know things feel new and different. You don’t have to be perfect. We’ll give you chances to remember the rules. But you may not hurt yourself or anyone else. And no one here will hurt you.”

I think about Rob and his snake, but I don’t say anything about it. “I want to call my sister,” I say.

“Sure,” says Peter.

I look at the floor. I’m not too sure about asking this. “Can you call for me?” I say real quick. “Last night I called and my mom didn’t let me talk to her.”

Peter looks at me real close. “Why was that, Jason?” he asks.

I can’t stop it. The words burst out of me. “She said it was too late, but Linda was right there,” I say. “I could hear her crying. What if Linda didn’t get supper? Maybe she fell and hurt herself. I want to talk to her and know if she’s all right.”

“Why do you think Linda might not get supper?” asks Peter.

“Sometimes Mom doesn’t give us supper,” I say. “When we’re bad. I’m bad a lot. Linda, not so much.” I stop for a second. I’m thinking about how mad Mom will get if she hears I said that. But there are too many words inside me. They’re busting to get out.

“See—my mom yells,” I tell Peter. “Sometimes, she hits. Not so much with Linda because Linda’s mostly good. Mom’s nicer with her. But with me, well—she gets mad a lot. Once, she hurt my arm. She pushed me down the stairs and I fell on it. My arm got real big and dark. Mom told the doctor it got stuck in a door, but it didn’t.

“When Mom gets mad, I mostly go away—away from the house. I run outside before she can get me. I ride around on my bike or go to the park. Sometimes, I visit my friend Benny. I stay away until it gets dark. Then Mom’s okay again. When I come home, she doesn’t say anything.”

I talk more and more. I can’t stop. I forget I’m talking to Peter. I forget Mom will be mad. I tell about the time she locked me outside at night. Then I had to sleep on the porch without a jacket. I tell about other things, too. The words come out and out. They’ve been inside a long time. They’re like the bubble of mad, bursting free.

But I don’t tell Peter about one thing—my dad and what he did to me. I don’t even want to think about it. That secret is too big to tell—for now.

Finally, I stop talking. Peter tells me he’s glad I told him what I did. Then he calls my mom. After that, I get to talk to Linda.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“Watching my Care Bears DVD,” she says. “When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I want to come home now.”

“Yeah,” says Linda. “Come home now. This house is poopy without you.”

She laughs and I laugh, too. Then Mom comes onto the phone. She says Linda has to go to bed.

“Goodnight, Jason,” she says. “You be good, now.”

“Goodnight,” I say.

When I hang up the phone, I feel better. Linda sounded good, and I’m real glad about that. I get into bed and think about this. While I’m thinking about it, Sue comes into my room.

“Here, Jason,” she says. “This teddy bear is for you. It’s yours to keep.”

Then she goes out again. I look at the bear a long time after lights out. It’s soft and brown and very nice, but it’s from here. I don’t want to be here. Here is too different, with too many new things. At home, I know the way everything is. At home is where I’m me. Here, I’m not-me. I don’t know who I am.

I want Linda, and my house, and to be good for Mom. No, not good, I think. Perfect. I want to be perfect for Mom. If I’m perfect, then Mom will let me come home again.

Tomorrow, I think. Tomorrow I’m going to be perfect for Mom.

I fall asleep.