Counting by 7s (34 page)

I am worried about Quang-ha.

I know that he has lots of homework this week. I hope that he at least attempts to do some of it.

And then there is Dell. Will he go back to putting things in closets? Will he return to staring out the window and waiting for his life to begin?

Will Pattie keep working so hard? I know for a fact that those fumes from the nail polish are bad for her.

I realize now that I'm worrying about all of them.

It's better than worrying about myself.

This is one of the secrets that I have learned in the last few months.

When you care about other people, it takes the spotlight off your own drama.

I
'm in a large room with five other girls at Jamison.

We all have hearings today.

Four of the five girls are sleeping. Or at least pretending to.

The fifth girl is talking on a cell phone.

I have my computer with me, and after I ask three times, the woman at the front desk gives me the wireless password.

No one else has a computer. I feel bad using mine, but the other girls don't seem to care.

Everyone in this room is in her own bubble of unhappiness, and there's not a lot of sharing.

I'm grateful for that.

Since I have access to the wireless code, I decide to take a look at the Jamison system.

This system is of course protected, but the firewall isn't very secure. I've looked at a lot of code for electronic buffering.

It's not a very sophisticated network, because I see the transport layer and recognize it immediately as something I've gotten through.

I'm thinking that not many hacker kids end up here.

I'm not a hacker kid, but I have potential in this area.

I get in right away.

I go to Lenore's account.

When I look at her e-mail, I suddenly feel sorry for her.

She appears to be massively overworked. There is e-mail from juvenile court, from schools, from the police department.

Mountains of the stuff.

I see references to all kinds of medical documents. There are reports of physical abuse and criminal behavior.

I feel sick now.

In a new way.

I really shouldn't be reading these things.

It's all too personal and it's not about me and what I'm doing is wrong.

I have Dell's work files on my computer.

I transferred everything when I put together his laptop, but I never actually looked at any of the stuff.

Now I open one of his files called DDSS. And I read:

 

Dell Duke System of the Strange

1 = MISFIT

2 = ODDBALL

3 = LONE WOLF

4 = WEIRDO

5 = GENIUS

6 = DICTATOR

7 = MUTANT

There are many names in most of the categories.

I go through them.

Quang-ha is a lone wolf. And Pattie is a dictator. I see that Mai is a junior dictator.

Then I see that for MUTANT there is only one name.

Dell Duke has listed himself.

At first, I'm appalled.

But then I realize he's only trying to make sense of the world.

He's looking for a way to put things in categories.

He's seeing people as different species.

Of course, he's wrong.

All of us are all of those things. I'm no genius. I'm as much of a lone wolf or a misfit or a weirdo as anyone.

When it came to the garden, I was a dictator.

If there is anything I've figured out in the last months it's that you can find labels to organize living things, but you can't put people in any kind of group or order.

It just doesn't work that way.

I close my computer, and in only a handful of minutes a woman comes into the room to tell us that lunch is being served.

I'm not hungry, but I follow the group to the dining area.

They don't have much of a selection for vegetarians, but I pick my way through a salad and some spinach with alarmingly bright orange-colored cheese sauce.

At least I think it's cheese sauce.

It seems better not to ask.

Everyone else sitting at my table is having a hot dog.

When we are finished they bring us each a bowl of vanilla ice cream with sprinkles on top.

The girl next to me starts to cry when she sees the sprinkles.

I'm wondering if she's worried about the long-term side effects of consuming artificial food coloring.

It's a valid concern.

But I decide she's not crying about that, because she has a horrible burn on her arm and she picks at it as she weeps.

The burn is the size of a cherry.

I get a bad feeling in my stomach thinking that someone did this to her.

Maybe that's even why she's here.

I shut my eyes and do my best to imagine I'm back in the new garden.

And before I know it, my ice-cream bowl looks like soup.

And the colored sprinkles have all sunk.

Lenore comes to get me. She says that she likes the way my hair looks today.

It hasn't changed since she picked me up, so she might just be trying to think of something positive to say to me.

But I smile anyway.

I realize that it's a true smile.

I will go forward into the world and do my best to be the daughter that my parents would have wanted me to be.

I'm not brave; it's just that all other choices have been thrown out the window.

Lenore takes me to see the grief counselor (whose name is Mrs. Bode-Ernst).

Sitting in her office I realize that I'm not afraid.

Of anything.

Exactly 7 letters.

Just a coincidence.

Not long ago, I had a lot of fear.

Now it feels like there's not a lot left to be afraid about.

Lenore says:

“Today is all just procedure. You will see the judge in private. He might ask some questions. There is paperwork to be signed.”

Mrs. Bode-Ernst smiles and I understand that she's thinking this is good news.

Or maybe she is just smiling to be encouraging.

I don't share her optimism.

The grief counselor says:

“The beginning of anything is hard. I know you've been through a lot. We're going to get you in school. And you'll make all kinds of new friends. Before you know it, you are going to be right back in the swing of things.”

I think about telling her that my school experience was never that great, and besides Margaret Z. Buckle, I didn't have close friends until I met Mai and Quang-ha and lived at the Gardens of Glenwood.

But I don't want to upset her.

How could she know that I never had that kind of swing?

Lenore and I return to her car.

She explains that the judge will take legal responsibility for me.

I'm hoping that it will be a woman and a person of color who sees me and understands that I'm different, even Strange (as Dell Duke figured out), but that I still have value.