That was news to me, but I nodded, hoping she would stop talking.
“I’m Erin,” she said, sliding her chair a little closer. “You? Oh, right. The mutism. Never mind. Is that your problem?” She slapped her forehead. “Why do I keep asking? I am going to have to work on my sign language. And by that, I mean completely learn it from scratch. How long do you think it would take? Ugh, I did it again. What if I wrote notes instead? Or like a code … one blink yes, two blinks no, three blinks maybe … Hmm. Could be a lot of blinking—”
“Erin?” Dr. Ring said. “Would you like to share?”
Erin sat up and tapped her chair thoughtfully. “Well, it was a pretty good week, I guess.”
“Why is that?” Dr. Ring asked.
“She still has eyebrows,” the boy said.
He had blond hair and small blue eyes that didn’t look very friendly. Even while he was talking, he was chewing on his fingernails.
“Peter,” Dr. Ring said with his calm voice. “We only make encouraging comments.”
“Well, it’s hardly a bad thing,” Peter muttered.
Erin had her hand on her face now and was forcing a smile. “I went shopping with my mom. Also got an A on a math test, which as you know is totally not my forte. That’s really it.”
“And did you work on our homework from last session?” Dr. Ring asked.
“Yes,” she said. Her smile was gone in an instant. “I focused hard.”
“Good,” he said. “We’ll get back to mindfulness later. Sara? Did you have a good week?”
He is always encouraging me to talk to more people, but a circle of staring crazies was not the time for a major lifestyle change. The whole group was looking at me. I shook my head.
“She doesn’t talk,” Erin offered.
“Are you shy?” Peter asked, but it sounded like he meant, “Are you stupid?”
I shook my head again.
“We only ask questions when they are invited,” Dr. Ring said. “But to avoid confusion, Sara does not speak very much. She is here to learn, as we all are. Strength in numbers, right?”
They were still staring. Erin and the mean boy and the others. I didn’t want to be stared at. I didn’t want to talk or listen or even be around more crazies. Wasn’t one of us enough? What if we made each other worse? What if I got mean like Peter or my eyelashes all fell out like Erin?
Hanging out with crazy kids seemed like a bad way to become normal. I wondered if I should add a rule on the subject. Too late now.
I tried to stay calm, but it’s hard once the bad thoughts start going. My body does strange things without me telling it to, and they don’t just stop when I say stop. My skin gets hot and prickly. My throat dries up. My chest goes tight, like someone is sitting on it, or maybe filling it up with concrete. And I say, “Stop!” but it just keeps going, and I can never explain that to my parents. It happens every day. It gets tiring.
But I didn’t want to show what I was to these strangers. Not if I could help it.
So I stood up and walked out.
I heard Dr. Ring calling after me and Peter asking, “What did I say?” but I ignored them and went into the waiting room. I sat down there because my mother wouldn’t let me leave until the session was over. At least I would be alone. I put my head into my hands and tried to breathe for a minute even as my lungs tried to squeeze all the air out. What were normal kids doing right now? Playing video games? At a sports game? Maybe just hanging out with friends. Normal friends. I was pretty sure they weren’t hanging out with crazy kids.
“You okay?” someone asked, dropping into the seat beside me.
It was Erin. I tried to act normal and nodded, but I knew I was breathing fast. I shoved my trembling hands under my legs. Dr. Ring was watching me from the doorway. I thought he might say something, but he just nodded at Erin and went back inside. He left the door open.
“It’s tough to start,” Erin said. “It’s all, like, ‘why are you crazy,’ and Peter is such a boy, and well, you know. But it gets easier. I barely used to talk. Don’t give me that look, I wasn’t always this loquacious. Anyway, take the night off. Come and try again next week. It’ll be better.”
I shook my head.
“Think about it,” she said, shrugging. “You want to hang out this weekend?”
I looked at her, confused. She picked up a magazine but kept talking instead of reading.
“Saturday night, maybe. I know it’s hard to believe, but I don’t have plans yet.” She put the magazine down. “Do you have a cute older brother? If not, maybe we could wear pajamas.”
I opened my mouth, and then just shook my head again.
“Perfect. Pajamas it is. What do you have anyway? Just the mutism? You on pills?”
I nodded.
“Same,” she said. “An antidepressant. Do I seem bummed to you? Well, I’m not really depressed. It’s for anxiety. This group is like a little anxiety party. Superfun. How many a day?”
I held up four fingers.
“Four different pills?” she said incredulously.
I nodded again and she whistled. “That’s a lot. What for? All that for not talking?”
I shook my head, looked around, and then pointed at the bathroom.
She followed my gaze. “Something for the bathroom? A stool softener?”
I nodded. Then I realized that may have been too honest and my cheeks got hot.
She just laughed. “Hey, no judgment. No one likes a hard poop.”
I smiled, which was strange because usually only Ms. Hugger and my dad could make me smile. I gestured to the open door to let her know she could go back into the session if she wanted.
Strangely, I wasn’t sure that I wanted her to leave.
“Nah,” she said, opening the magazine again. “I’ll wait with you. Now, about Saturday. Your place, for sure. Mine is a total pigsty. Army brat, so we always have unopened boxes everywhere. Plus I have an evil brother. Say … seven? What’s your number? Ugh, I am the worst. Just give me your phone. I won’t text you too much. Just joking. I’ll totally text you every day.”
She punched the number in herself, and then leaned back and put her feet up on the coffee table. I did the same thing because it looked normal. We stared at the far wall, and she talked the whole time and didn’t even notice when I chewed my nails or tried to breathe—and if she did, she didn’t seem to care.
When I got home, I read my list of normal rules before bed, whispering like usual so my parents wouldn’t hear. But it felt different today. I had plans for the weekend. Me. Sara.
My stomach did a little flop, but then I realized something. I jumped out of bed, turned the lights on, and grabbed my list. Flipping to the second page, I took out a pen and grinned.
19. Make a friend
CHAPTER 5 SEVERAL CONVERSATIONS (SORT OF)
At school on Friday I told Ms. Hugger about Erin. She was excited. We even talked a little about what girls did when they hung out and she gave me some ideas. Crafts. Movies. Gossip.
“What should we gossip about?” I asked, writing down some notes.
Ms. Hugger laughed. “Anything. We used to gossip about boys, mostly.”