A few days after talking with Ms. Trepky my mom checked me out of school half an hour early.
I flopped into the backseat and dropped my backpack on the floor. It seemed like so many worry whirlpools—baby worry, Mr. Trent Hickman worry, Talia’s worries—were swirling around in my mind into one big blustery mess.
“How was school?” Mom asked.
“It was good,” I said, trying not to pick at my nails. Sometimes I did that when I was so focused and anxious about something.
Mom cleared her throat and looked back at me, so I knew she was going to tell me something important. “Honey, do you … do you remember when you were taking piano lessons and things were really, really hard? And I told you I’d look into something?”
I nodded. Was Mom going to sign me back up for piano?
Mom kept going. “Sweetie, I know things are going on with Talia and school and other things making you anxious and … well, if it’s okay, I’m going to take you to a new doctor’s office because I think they might have some ideas.”
“A doctor? What kind?”
“It’s called a … I think she’s a neuroscientist. Or a psychologist.”
“A neuropsychologist.”
“Sure, that works. Is that okay? We’re just going to talk to her.”
My mom was looking at me, both hands on the wheel, and she looked nervous to be asking me this, like maybe it would hurt my feelings. I smiled at Mom and her shoulders relaxed.
“Okay,” I said.
This doctor’s office was in a brown brick building about twenty minutes away. This office had the puffy gray chairs, landscape paintings, and latex-and-disinfectant smell like my other doctors’ offices. Mom checked us in, then a nurse in turquoise scrubs brought us to the back. Like normal.
Except this time it was slightly different. This time I didn’t take my shoes off and stand on the scale, and this time they didn’t take my blood pressure. And when we got to the office in the back there wasn’t a doctor’s table covered in paper for me to lie on. Instead, more chairs and a desk.
Then a woman came in who was only a few inches taller than me and had brown skin and the brightest smile. “I’m Dr. Prasad,” she said, coming straight over to me. “And you’re Libby?”
I shook her hand and smiled back. I already liked Dr. Prasad.
“Yes,” I said.
And that’s how the weirdest doctor visit I ever had began. Dr. Prasad asked me a lot of questions at first. She asked me if I liked school, and what parts I liked. I told her I definitely didn’t like math. She asked me about my friends. She asked if it was hard for me to make friends. I told her I liked eating lunch in the library, because with doctors you’re supposed to tell the truth, and I told her about Talia. She asked me lots of questions about how I had made friends with her. She asked me if I knew the difference between anxiety and fear and I said of course and she smiled and asked me if I felt anxious a lot.
Then we did some game-style tests. There were flash cards with symbols and sounds that I had to memorize, and a game on the computer where I had to click the space bar when I saw a certain letter. Some of the test games were easy and some were a lot harder than they seemed.
Then we waited a bit, and then Dr. Prasad and Mom went into another room and talked by themselves. I read a National Geographic magazine.
When they came back out I couldn’t read the expression on Mom’s face. It was almost like she’d been crying, but not. Like she was sad and also relieved, like she was gearing up and also ready to lie down.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Libby,” said Dr. Prasad. “Keep working hard in school.”
I nodded.
“Thank you,” said Mom, like she really meant it. Like after a couple of hours they were now the best of friends.
I was ready to leave, which was unusual for me and doctors’ offices. Dr. Prasad was maybe the nicest doctor ever, but I felt like something that had been under the microscope for too long.