OCDaniel (19 page)

I scooped my books up quickly, told Max thanks, and left, trying to ignore the laughter. I ran to this field because I wanted to be alone, and stayed here until sundown, when the darkness scared me away.

  •  •  •  

“What are you thinking about?” Sara asked me.

“Nothing,” I said.

She smiled. “Sure.” She looked out over the field. “This is my favorite place.”

“Because you can be alone?”

“Because I can imagine I could be completely alone,” she corrected.

I glanced at her. “What would you do?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Go to Times Square and do the funky chicken. Or go to the top of the Empire State Building and lie down and look at the stars. Check out London and Delhi and Rio. Maybe go into rich people's houses and pretend to be really rich for a while.”

“That sounds weird.”

“I don't think so,” she said, almost dreamily. “Imagine the freedom.”

I was a little unnerved by her voice. She almost seemed happy.

“Have you talked to your mom about John and the recording?” I asked guardedly.

“Of course not,” she said. “I didn't want to before. Now I hate her. When I get John, I'll take her down too. She won't mind losing me. She probably always wanted to.”

“I'm sure that's not true.”

She shrugged. “Like I said, it's not easy having a crazy kid. I mean, they had to pay for a TA and they fought a lot about me and they got awkward when I was at the table and not saying anything, and sometimes I knew by her face that she wished I wouldn't be there anymore. Not like she wanted me to die or she was going to kill me or something. She just wished I wasn't there. Not like my dad.”

“I . . . I don't know what to say.”

“It's okay. People always want the easiest thing. That's why you touch stuff, like, a hundred times for no reason.” She paused. “I read the book too.”

We kept walking. She was wearing a ball cap today with her ponytail pulled through the back, along with a heavy coat pulled to her chin. I wished I had dressed a little warmer—my ears were stinging.

“Do you think I'm even crazier now?” she asked, glancing at me.

“No. The same amount of crazy.”

Sara laughed. “Sweet. So, what are you going to do about the OCD?”

“I don't know. It said there are meds and therapy and stuff. But I don't want anyone to know.”

“Why?”

“Because they'll treat me different,” I said simply. “You know that.”

She sighed and looked out at where the sky and the earth met. “Yeah.” She glanced at me. “I won't. There's this thing I go to on Wednesdays. Group therapy. Open invite. It's for people with anxiety disorders.”

I shook my head. “I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“The people there are nice. They're all a little batty, like us.”

“I don't want people to think I'm batty,” I said sullenly.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. If you ever change your mind, it's every Wednesday.”

We walked for a while in silence.

“What are we going to do about John?” I asked, changing the subject.

“We almost have a case,” she said thoughtfully. “But it's not ready. We might have a weapon, but we don't know anything else.” She paused. “We need a body.”

I felt my skin go cold. “You mean—”

“We need to find my dad,” she said quietly. “There's no murder until that. Just accusations.”

“How are we going to figure that out?”

“I don't know,” she said. “That's the next step.” She turned to me. “I know this is getting heavy. If you want out, I'll understand. You've helped me a ton, and I really appreciate it. You've done enough.”

I was tempted to take her up on the offer. But I knew I couldn't.

“We'll figure something out.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Want to know what I do sometimes?”

“Sure.”

She suddenly took off, running like mad. I was so surprised, I just stood there for a moment, stunned. She was sprinting through a meadow of tall grass almost reaching up to her waist like she was wading in the water. Her ponytail bounced around madly.

“Sara?” I called.

I did the only thing that made any sense: I took off after her, chasing her across the field. She was surprisingly fast.

She was halfway to the next field when she stopped, laughing and bending over. I caught up to her, doubling over myself with cramps.

“What was that about?”

She looked at me, smiling. “Freedom.”

I shook my head, but we both started to laugh as we straightened up.

“You know . . . I kind of had a crush on you,” she said.

“You did?”

“Yeah. A couple of years ago. I thought you were strange, but in the best kind of way.”

I felt the tingling again. “Why are you telling me that?”

She shrugged. “Felt like it. Never told anyone, as you might have guessed.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

She waved a hand. “Don't worry. I know you like Raya, and I have a new crush anyway.”

“Who?”

She frowned. “None of your business. Now let's get back. I'll try not to act bonkers anymore.”

“That would be nice.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me back toward town.

“Come on. We have a murder to solve. Try to stay focused, Daniel.”

We hurried back to the road, and I tried to make sense of Sara Malvern.

I had kind of thought that knowing what I had and being able to call it something would make it better. But when I went to bed that night, I stood in front of the mirror brushing my teeth and wondered if I could just stop it now. If I could just brush however many times I wanted and put the toothbrush away.

I looked at myself carefully. I focused on my eyes because everyone says they are the window to the soul and I wanted to know if my soul was fixed. I'm not sure if I believe in souls, of course, though I would certainly like to. Or at least I hoped my malfunctioning amygdala would stop being such a jerk.

I went to put the toothbrush down and got Zapped. I felt my insides go hard and the back of my neck tingle, and the thought went through my head that said,
I did that wrong and now I can't breathe and I'm going to die in my sleep.
And then my insides got worse and I started brushing my teeth like normal.

It's funny to be a prisoner of yourself. Like you're being bullied by your own mind and you're afraid of it, but it's also you and it's extremely confusing. I brushed for twenty minutes more, and when I was done, my gums were bleeding again.

And then it was thirty minutes to leave the bathroom and an hour at the light switch, and when I finally went to bed, I stared at the ceiling and wondered what the point of mental illness was. Like, if it was just that something was broken or if they were there for a reason. Maybe I was a Star Kid. Maybe I was special.

But when I fell asleep, I was crying again, and I didn't feel special at all.

  •  •  •  

Monday was a strange day at school. Taj was calling me “Dan the Man” and guys were shaking my shoulders and shouting “State championship!” all day, which was nice but also a bit jarring. I would come out of the bathroom, and someone would do it. Or when I tried to eat my bologna sandwich and Taj hit me on the back and I dropped it on the table. I lost the slice of cheese, and it wasn't the same after.

I ran into Sara between periods when I went to the bathroom. By now her TA was beginning to expect that we would talk, and she just smiled at me and took out her phone. Sara stopped beside me.

“She said you must be very special to make me talk,” Sara said.

I flushed. “Oh. What did you tell her?”

“I nodded. I had a nice walk yesterday.”

“Me too.”

She leaned in a little. “I have a plan.”

I looked at her in surprise. “Already?”

“I have time,” she said. “This Sunday? Can you make it?”

“I guess.”

She smiled. “Good. Have fun in math.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She took off like she had never even stopped, and her TA hurried after her.

I had an even stranger encounter with Raya. We were leaving last class after the bell, and I was heading for my locker and then down to the locker room to resignedly change into practice gear. We were practicing every day leading up to the state championship, which was on Saturday morning. The Erie Hills Elephants had never won a state championship, so this was a pretty big deal to everyone but me. I had been slapped on the back twenty-one times and had talked to the team more than I had in the previous two years combined.

“Hey!” a familiar voice called out behind me.

I turned around, and my stomach did its usual flutter as Raya hurried toward me. She was wearing a wry smile. She had on a white blouse and a Technicolor shawl wrapped around her neck and dangling down to a wide leather belt. I don't know why I always noticed her clothes. I guess I tried to read her mood or intentions in them. If I had to guess today, it was that she cared about her appearance a lot for some reason, because she was extra stylish and her hair was nice.

“Hey,” I said.

She stopped, her hands in her pockets. “Didn't talk to you much today.”

Was that a question? “I know,” I said. “I guess the football team was around a lot.”

She smiled. “You're one of them now, I guess.”

“Until I miss a kick and blow the championships.”

“Basically.”

There was a moment of silence. Was I supposed to say something else?
Think, Daniel!

She beat me to it. “So my dad wasn't overly thrilled that he caught us kissing.”

I felt my cheeks go crimson. “Oh.”

“He's not going to, like, beat you up or something. He just wanted to know who you were.”

“Did you give him my address?”

She laughed. “He's not a hit man. I told him it was a game. But I did tell him your name and stuff and that you aren't a jerk and that you were really embarrassed.”

“All true.”

“Anyway, he said he doesn't, like, ban you from my house or hanging out with me or anything.”

My brain was working really hard to map this all out, but it was a lot to process.

“That's good. I guess I'll never be the outlawed bad boy of your dreams, then.”

Did I just say that? She broke out laughing, and somehow her hand found her way to my arm.

“I guess not,” she said. “You're stuck being the nice guy. But you're allowed around, so that's good.” Her hand fell away quickly and went back to her pocket. I saw Max watching me, smirking.

“Yeah,” I said, uncertain.

“See you tomorrow, Dan,” she said. And then she was gone, and I was very confused.

Max appeared beside me, still wearing that knowing grin. “You look like a fire hydrant.”

“I don't get girls.”

He laughed and pushed me toward my locker. “Join the club.”

  •  •  •  

“How?” Coach Clemons asked. “We're at the fifteen, Dan. The fifteen!”

I shrugged. “I'm just not a very good kicker, Coach.”

“I am!” Kevin volunteered. We were taking turns kicking now that Kevin was back, and even though he wasn't nearly 100 percent, he was still hitting a lot more frequently than me. Unfortunately, Coach was apparently now convinced that I was a good-luck charm and insisted that I was starting on Saturday, despite both of our objections.

“You're just not focusing,” Coach Clemons said. “You need to focus.”

He looked like he had aged five years since play-offs had started. There were at least twice the gray hairs in his bristly mustache, and I'm pretty sure he was now balding beneath his Erie Hills ball cap. He definitely looked stressed most of the time, and there were veins on his temples that looked perilously close to bursting.

“Laps!” he shouted. “Five laps and then we try the red zone play again.”

A chorus of groans went up, and I dejectedly joined the group as they started for the track. Kevin came up beside me, glancing at me with his small dark eyes and a very sour expression on his face.

“I should be playing.”

“I agree.”

“You stole my spot.”

I looked at him. “Take it back.”

“Don't play coy with me!”

“I'm serious,” I said. “I hate playing. If I could go back to water boy, I would be happy.”

He snarled and ran past me. I let him go. The guys here would never believe that I actually didn't want to play, and I had a feeling that Kevin was planning on taking me out somehow, so I was going to stay clear of him. As much as I didn't want to play, I didn't want to get beat up either.

As we ran, I saw Coach going over some plays with the assistant coach, yelling and spitting and just generally going crazy. It was funny how seriously they all took football. No one seemed to care about the other things going on when practice ended.

“Rough practice,” Max said, appearing beside me.

“I know.”

“You'll be fine. You're two for two. One more play, and we're there.”

I frowned. “Yeah. Is your dad coming to watch—”

“Yeah. Called last night. Said he wouldn't miss the state championship.”

I could see Max clenching his fists as he ran. I knew he would be crazed all week again.

“We'll win,” I said.

Max smiled. “That's the spirit. You have a fan, by the way.”

I followed his gaze and saw Sara waiting by the school, watching us run.

“Two girls now?” Max asked me. “Who are you? What did you do with Dan?”

I shook my head resignedly. “I have no idea.”

It turned out that Sara's mom was just late picking Sara up. Sara had been sitting alone in the front and had decided to come watch us practice. We went back to the front to wait for her mom, and even though I saw some of the guys grinning and shooting me weird looks as they rode away with their parents, I didn't leave. I guess I was trying so hard to be a decent football player that I was too tired to try to be cool, too.