Sara and the Search for Normal Read online

  No one spoke for a moment. I glanced up and saw Erin pluck her eyelash out. Mel was taking deep breaths, Peter was staring into space, and Taisha was clearly embarrassed. Dr. Ring was taking notes.

  I felt my lungs getting heavy like they were full of lead. Not again.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.

  But the wheel was spinning and the tide was coming and good-bye, Sara Malvern.

  I wanted to disappear. So I did.

  I left the room and ran to the bathroom. I fell on my knees in front of the toilet and wretched on air and felt tears streaming down my face. Not again. I was breaking the rules.

  Finally the door clicked open and Dr. Ring’s calm voice came through:

  “Breathe, Sara. It will pass.”

  He came in and stood by the door, blocking the view from anyone else. The pathetic view of a girl choking on air. I stared down at the still water in the toilet. I breathed.

  And then my brain said, “Sorry, team. False Alarm. You can all go back to work.”

  “I’m okay,” I croaked. “I’ll come back in a second.”

  Dr. Ring nodded and closed the door behind him. When I came out, Erin was waiting.

  “You okay?” she asked stiffly.

  I nodded, and then she did the same and stormed back in to join the group.

  Dr. Ring stepped out. “Do you want to talk?”

  “I … I think I am going to go home,” I said.

  He nodded. “Of course.” He laid a hand on my arm. “Fighting is a part of friendship.”

  “I don’t have any friends,” I said, and then hurried outside to the van.

  My mom frowned when I got in. She put her book down and checked the time.

  “Finish early today?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t ask me any questions.

  “Oh.” She started the van up. “Figured he would want to maximize every session.”

  “I don’t want to do the group sessions anymore.”

  “What?”

  “They aren’t helping me. They’re making me worse.”

  “Sara—”

  “I can’t be around other kids like me,” I said sharply. “I don’t want to be like them.”

  She sighed. “Okay. We’ll talk more tomorrow. But I won’t force you to do anything.”

  I had three new rules when I got home:

  139. Stay away from other crazy kids.

  140. Especially Erin.

  141. Never accept that you are different.

  I stared at the last one. I had variations on it throughout the list. But this one was about as clear as it could get. It was the opposite of what Erin had told me. She was okay with being different, or at least she was trying to make it seem like that. But it wasn’t helping either of us.

  Getting better was the goal. The only goal: Make the Games go away.

  I had my rules out for another reason. I crossed off Rule #1.

  1. Stop taking the pills.

  I fished in my pocket and pulled out my two nighttime pills, partially dissolved like little misshapen teeth. I had stuck them under my tongue and spit them out when my mom wasn’t looking. It was time to follow my rules. Time to be normal. I put the pills in my drawer and lay down in bed, smiling. Tomorrow I would be normal. Finally.

  But I found it hard to sleep. I lay there in the dark and tossed and turned and finally got up and went downstairs. My father was sleeping on the couch, empty bottles scattered around him. I sat down by his legs and just stared at the TV, not really seeing anything but the blue on the walls around me. He stirred.

  “Sara?” he mumbled. “What are you doing?”

  “Can’t sleep.”

  He yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah. Just … can’t sleep.”

  He nodded and ran two calloused hands down his face, pulling his lips down and letting out a tired, protracted groan. Stubble was turning to patchy beard, and his eyes looked heavy.

  “We got to try,” he said. “School for you tomorrow. Work for me. Come on now.”

  “Was I always like this?”

  He looked at me, frowning. “What?”

  “Was I always like this? Even when I was a baby? Was I born sick?”

  He stared at me for a moment, then slid closer and put his arm around me.

  “You cried a lot, I guess,” he said. “But we never had any other kids … maybe they all cry that much. I don’t know. You were temperamental. Still are, I think, but you come by that honestly enough. Most things, actually. What are you asking me, Sara?”

  I kept my eyes on the TV. “I want to know if I have a chance.”

  “A chance for what?”

  “To get better. I’m trying. Sometimes I feel like I am, but then it goes away again.”

  He frowned. “Is this about the other night? With your friend?”

  “It’s about every night.”

  “I don’t know how to make the anxiety stop, Sara. I wish I did. I leave that to Dr. Ring. But I know that I love you as you are. All of that stuff sucks. I know. But it doesn’t change who you are. Smart and funny and kind. Nothing changes any of that.”

  I pulled away from him. “Of course it does—”

  “How do you know?” he asked. “You’ve been dealing with it your whole life.” He took my shoulder and smiled. “I told you, you’re strong. You’ll be just fine.”

  “I want to be better.”

  He laughed. “Better than what? If that is your goal, it never stops. When is enough?”

  I thought about that. I just wanted to be better than I was now, of course, to be like the other kids at school. But what did that mean? How would I know when I got there? How would I know what they thought or felt?

  I had to aim for something. Happiness, maybe. I wasn’t happy as Psycho Sara.

  That I knew, at least.

  He patted my leg. “Now, off to bed. Or I will have to tickle you until you flee.”

  “But—”

  He tickled my side until I squealed, and then he scooped me up in his arms and started upstairs, the floors creaking beneath us. He lay me back in bed and kissed me on the forehead.

  “Good night, Sara.”

  “Good night.” I turned to him as he walked out. “Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You should shower before work tomorrow. You smell like an old dishcloth.”

  He burst into laughter. “Well, at least you’re honest. If nothing else, hold on to that.”

  He smelled his armpit, pretended to faint, and made his way back downstairs.

  “I will be happy,” I said to the room. “When I am better. Tomorrow I’ll be better.”

  CHAPTER 21 NOT EVERYONE LIKES VISITORS

  I didn’t take my morning pills, either. I tucked them under my tongue, went upstairs, and added them to my little pile. I felt heavy already, and as if there were little sparks under my skin, but I decided I was imagining that. I had been taking pills for six years. It would be hard to just stop.

  I sat in my room and stared at my rules and said again and again, “You are better.”

  I went to school on Friday, and the heaviness deepened, and I had a panic attack, but I decided that was to be expected. When I got home, I skipped my nighttime pill too, and I had another panic attack before bed. But when it ended, I just stared up at the ceiling and said “You are better” through the tears. I fell asleep when the sun came up and woke late in the morning.

  It was Saturday, so I went to the park at one. I stood there for about an hour, shivering, but there was no sign of James. Just me and a slide and a November wind. I felt a little strange, but I decided it was nothing. I was on my way home when I remembered that he had come to my house uninvited. He had just looked up my address and showed up. And he was normal.

  I knew his address. I could stop by.

  I chewed my nails for a minute or two and then made a decision.

  I started for his
street. We’d gotten another snowfall and then some rain, and now it was halfway-snow: brown and wet and receding into gutters. I splashed along the sidewalk and shoved my hands deep into my pockets, trying to come up with an excuse to visit. I was in the neighborhood? I had new jeans? What was happening to me? Okay … I wanted to see how you were doing? Yeah, that might just work.

  I got to James’s street in about fifteen minutes. The houses were smaller there and connected. His was a duplex with pink bricks and a gravel driveway. There was a sign on the front door that said WELCOME, which I thought was encouraging.

  I took a deep breath and went to the door. I hoped James would answer. Anyone else would be tricky. I rang the doorbell and waited, feeling my stomach tie itself into a knot.

  A woman opened the door. “Hello, sweetie,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

  I really hadn’t planned this out well. She seemed nice, but she was new and big and her eyes were like James’s except sharper. I felt like I was shrinking beneath her.

  I was hoping James had described me as his mute friend, so I made some quick hand gestures Ms. Hugger had taught me for day-to-day use. It was sort of the sign for “Is your son here?” but she obviously didn’t know sign language. She looked both ways down the street.

  “Are you … can you speak?” she asked.

  I shook my head. I was starting to sweat. Could I leave?

  “Hmm,” she said. “No problem. I’ll call Lily. You’re a bit older than most of her friends, but—”

  I shook my head again, and this time she frowned.

  “For James?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh,” she said uncertainly. “He didn’t say you were coming. He’s in the back with some friends from school. Well, you must be from his school too. That boy does seem to be popular.”

  I just nodded. I guess he didn’t mention his mute friend after all.

  She smiled. “Head round back, dear.”

  I started onto the gravel driveway. As I rounded the side of the house, I heard voices and laughter. I thought about leaving again. Even if I didn’t talk, maybe his friends wouldn’t care. Maybe I could talk. Why not? I was making so much progress.

  I tried to steady myself, then stepped into the backyard, putting on a smile.

  James and three others were standing in a circle, throwing the football. There was another boy and two girls. James was laughing and about to throw to one of the girls when he saw me.

  His eyes widened and he lowered the ball. “Sara?”

  The other three turned to me. The girls looked at each other as James hurried over.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  “I came to say hi,” I said, looking down so they wouldn’t see me talking.

  I wasn’t sure why he looked so upset.

  “Who is that?” one of the girls asked.

  “A neighbor,” James replied curtly, which wasn’t very specific or accurate.

  He took my arm and led me back toward the driveway. His fingers were squeezing hard enough to hurt. He didn’t even look at me as the yard slipped out of view. He stopped there.

  “How do you know where I live?” he whispered.

  I glanced behind him to make sure we were alone. “I looked it up.”

  He ran a hand over his face and looked at the closest window.

  “You can’t just come here. Now Mom’s going to be asking and Jones has seen you, and the girls. Those girls aren’t nice, Sara. They talk. And Jones is going to ask around … ugh. Man.”

  “You came to my house,” I said. I didn’t know if that was for him or me.

  Obviously, I was wrong to come here. How could I have known that when he had come to my house? I didn’t have a rule for that yet.

  “It’s different. I’m not trying to be mean here. It’s just … I got my own things.”

  I had my own things too, but I never held it against him.

  “Okay,” I said. “Well, I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing …”

  “Promise me you won’t come back here.”

  That stung because I knew from TV that friends invited each other over. Crushes, too. I felt my stomach twisting up and a ball in my throat, but I tried not to show it. I just stared at him.

  “Ever?” I asked.

  He fidgeted. “Unless I tell you it’s okay. But better to not come here. We go to the park.”

  “I thought … I thought you wanted to hang out more. I could meet your friends—”

  James stared at me like I was crazy. I felt sick. I knew that look. Took you long enough, James.

  “We’ll hang out next Saturday,” James said. “Or maybe earlier. I’ll come by.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  My voice was cracking, but I got the word out.

  He shifted and looked back at the yard. “So, I’ll stop in and—”

  “I have to get going,” I said, starting down the driveway. “See you later.”

  “Sorry,” he called after me, “it’s just a bad time. I’ll see you.”

  And then he went back to the yard. Tears came down, and I wondered if they would become brown and wet in the gutters too. I was confused. James had said I wasn’t crazy, and that I was smart, and that he was my friend. I had wanted to believe him. But you don’t hide your friends. At least that’s what I thought. But I’ve only ever had one other one, so how would I know?

  As I cried, I remembered something Sara used to know: Talking gets you hurt.

  * * *

  That night I stared at myself in the mirror and I hated everything I saw. And I cried and played every Game one after another until I was lying on the floor sweating. When my mom called me for my pills, I took them right away and forced a smile and then went back to my room and cried again. One of them was a calming pill, and in an hour or so, I lay still and tired.

  “You will never be normal, Psycho Sara,” I whispered to the darkness.

  I didn’t do much on Sunday. My mom asked me what was wrong, but I didn’t tell her.

  I sat on the couch with my dad. I watched the glass bottle garden grow. I watched football, but not really. I just sat there and thought that maybe I had been pretending, not Erin.

  That night, I sat by my phone and stared at the screen. Then I texted her.

  I’m sorry, Star Child. Can I still be one?

  She didn’t text me back. I lay down, staring at the ceiling. I had never felt more alone.

  My phone buzzed by my head, and I stared at it, almost afraid to read. Afraid that she would tell me to leave her alone for good. It must have been a few minutes. Then I opened it.

  Tenet #1. You are a Star Child for life.

  I smiled, and the screen blurred. I promised myself I wouldn’t forget that again.

  CHAPTER 22 GOOD-BYE

  She came over Monday night. As soon as I opened the door, she hugged me and dragged me upstairs and made me tell her everything that had happened since our fight. When I got to James, she stormed around the room, ranting that boys are jerks.

  When she finally stopped, she turned back to me and stopped. “Are you crying?”

  “No,” I said quickly, wiping my nose. “Maybe. I just … it’s nice to have a friend again.”

  She took me by the shoulders. “Sara something Malvern. What’s your middle name?”

  “Lynn.”

  “Sara Lynn Malvern. Do you think I would choose just anyone to be my bestie? Yes, at first your mutism was a real bonus. I could just talk and you couldn’t talk back and tell me I look weird like everyone else does. But then I got to know you, and you know what … you are brilliant. And funny. And crazy, yes. But so am I. Who cares? We are Star Children, Sara. We don’t need to be ashamed of it.”

  “I know, but—”

  She shook me, holding my gaze. “I want you to say Sara Malvern is awesome. Out loud.”

  I laughed. “What?”

  “Say it. Sara Malvern is awesome.”

  “I don’t think—�
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  “Say it!” she demanded.

  “Sara Malvern is awesome,” I said quietly.

  “Louder.”

  “Sara Malvern is awe—”

  “Louder!”

  “Sara Malvern is awesome!” I shouted as loud as I could, and burst out laughing.

  “That’s better,” she said approvingly. “And don’t you forget it, either. No matter what.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Do or do not. There is no try.”

  “Thank you, Yoda.”

  “You’re welcome.” She straightened up. “Now, we need ice cream. Do you have any?”

  “I think so—”

  “Excellent. We will eat all of it and watch a Ryan Gosling movie.”

  I groaned. “We’ve seen them all—”

  “You need eye candy,” she cut in. “Trust me, I’ve suffered heartbreak before.”

  “You have?”

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. “No. But I’ve watched The Notebook so many times I basically lived it. What?”

  I was staring at her arm. The sleeve was rolled up, and there was bruising all along the skin. It was purple and green and black, and it looked painful. It looked like someone had grabbed her.

  I had a feeling I knew who that someone was.

  She rolled her sleeve down and forced a smile. “Wrestling practice.”

  “You wrestle?”

  “I’m giving it a try. At school. Have been for a while. We don’t do meets or anything.”

  I watched her head for the door. That had sounded strangely … rehearsed. Like she had told that story before. It also sounded like a lie. I knew I should leave it. She had asked me to.

  But maybe I could help her. I had promised that I would.

  “Erin … did your dad do that to you?”

  She stopped at the doorway, keeping her back to me. She let the silence hold.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked finally.

  “I saw him at the birthday … and … I don’t know. Just asking. You can tell me, Erin.”

  She sighed and turned back. “He gets mad sometimes. That’s all.”

  “The bruise on your hip …”

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “It’s not a big deal. Best friend secret. Okay?”