CHAPTER TWENTY

THE APARTMENT WAS GRAY AND STILL AND LIFELESS. WAY TOO QUIET. So much worse than it had been over Christmas. He flicked on the Wolverine lamp and sat on Toby’s tangled dinosaur sheets. His chest ached thinking about all the times he’d yelled at Toby to make his bed. Making his bed was so unimportant, so meaningless. He swore to whomever you swear to that if given the chance, he’d never yell at Toby again. Not for anything.

He scooped up the teddy bear and stroked the fake, matted fur. He should bring Toby some pajamas and his toothbrush. He grabbed everything he thought Toby might want or need. Then he saw the Spiderman suitcase in the corner. If Toby woke up, when he woke up, he’d love seeing it in that drab, sterile room. But when Sean unzipped the suitcase, it wasn’t empty. Dozens of letters filled it, each one folded in half and addressed to “Mommy.” Sean slumped to the ground, dropping everything he’d gathered and stared at the pile of letters. He picked one up and opened it. “Dear Mommy,” it said. “Today I drew a picture of you. You were in a car driving and there were mountains in back. I hope you call or send another post card. I miss you. Come home soon. Love, Toby xxxoo”

Toby had been writing Ellie every day and Sean hadn’t even known. He could barely breathe as he picked up another one. “Dear Mommy, I made up a song for you today during music. It’s in my head and I can sing it for you next time I see you.”

The heat rose up through his chest, onto his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Tears blurred his vision and inhuman moans slipped from his body between gasps for breath. Every inch of him ached with grief. When the crying jag subsided, he sat paralyzed, staring at nothing. He finally climbed into Toby’s bed with his computer. He typed “Methylphenidate and …” he held his breath. “Fatalities.”

He scrolled through the first twenty of 40,600 results. Each article was more depressing than the next. There was no hard evidence that methylphenidate caused heart problems, but there were too many pieces of anecdotal evidence to discount. He closed the computer when he got to a site that blasted parents for poisoning the still-developing brains of their children with mind-altering drugs. He breathed in the smell of Toby’s pillow and closed his eyes.

Sean woke from a black hole of sleep to his ringing phone. He sat up, disoriented, and looked around the room. A moment later, the reality of why he was here flooded him with a new wave of sorrow. His phone was charging in the kitchen. He ran for it.

“Ellie?” he said, flipping open the phone.

“Um …” It was a man’s voice. “Toby missed tutoring yesterday.” Noah. “I couldn’t get through on your phone, like, all night. Is everything okay?”

Sean caught his breath. His heart pounded against his ribcage.

“No. Actually nothing’s okay.” He told Noah about Toby—about the diagnosis, the drugs, the hospital.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Noah said. “You put Toby on medication? Why the hell would you do that?”

The bottom fell out of his stomach. Why the hell would he do that? “I guess you don’t think he needed it.” Why hadn’t he told Noah, asked his advice? He felt like an idiot.

“I wish you’d asked me, man. That’s all. I wish you’d talked to me.”

“Why are you saying it that way?”

“Let’s just say—and this is off the record, not to be repeated to anyone, you understand?” He had a serious, un-Noah tone. “Do you?”

“Yeah, okay.” Sean was getting impatient. “What is it?”

“Look, it’s not my field of expertise or anything. But he seemed fine to me, perfectly fine.”

Sean didn’t need anyone else to tell him what a douche bag he’d been. He knew. “What’s off the record?”

“I’ve seen this happen before. With Bradley. Other schools, too, but Bradley in particular. They do this. They make suggestions. They make threats. They don’t leave parents much of a choice. Parents of boys, mostly.”

Sean’s heart rate sped up. “You’re saying this happens … a lot?”

“I’m not saying anything. Because if a tutor in this city were to say anything about Bradley, that tutor would never get another referral from any private school ever again. But if I were to say something, I’d say that instead of changing the way they teach, schools go for the easy fix. What happened to Toby—it’s not the first time this drugging-the-healthy-kid thing has backfired for them. I’d say they have a magic Bradley way of making their problems disappear.”

“But why would they want to drug healthy kids?”

Silence. “Noah? Hello?”

“I’m here.”

“Why?” The phone shook in his hand. “For better test scores?”

“I hope Toby gets better, man. He’s an excellent kid.” Noah paused. “I don’t pray often. But I’ll be praying for him.”