CO2

Chapter Four TUESDAY

As I walk back towards the nurse's office, I feel a nervous ache inside my stomach. I don't want to face my mom after what she said. And I don't want to face what consequences I might have after punching someone. I get to the office much too fast, and pause before the door. I hate her, I think. I hate what she said, I hate what she thinks of me, I hate that she probably still thinks it. I hate how guilty she looked when I ran away. I don't want to face my mom. But I take a deep breath and enter the room.

To my surprise, when I get back, my mom is smiling, and talking with another woman. I'm glad that she might feel better about what happened. Before I say anything, I listen to their conversation.

"Yeah, Heather, I heard about this great therapist and-" She stops when she sees me enter. My mom seems confused by her abrupt silence, so she turns around and gasps when she sees me.

"Oh! Sam! We were just talking about you," she says, her voice higher than normal. She is trying to cover up what I heard, but it's not working.

"Therapist?" I say, hints of anger in my voice. "I don't need a therapist."

"Oh, honey, that's not what we meant- I mean-"

"Then what did you mean?" I shout. The other woman there seems surprised by my sudden outburst, and she looks around for a way to leave. My mom seems embarrassed by me. I hate how she looks ashamed of my behavior, as if I'm a disappointment.

"Well," she begins, trying to sooth me. I hate how she's speaking to me like I'm a little kid. "My friend here, Nora, was talking about how her child had had a record of fighting and-"

"A record of fighting?" I yell. "I punched one kid! And for a good reason! I don't need any help!" Nora steps back, shaken by my sudden outburst. I hate how my mom looks at me like I'm different than I was just about an hour ago, before I punched Andy.

I realize that by yelling, I'm not really helping prove my point. I take a deep breath, and continue, making sure not to freak out.

"I understand why you think I might need extra help, but I'm fine. I don't need to sit on a couch telling some random stranger my feelings." I try to let go of my anger. I try to forgive my mom, first for what she said earlier, and again for thinking that I have some kind of problem. I hate how my mom seems to think that this is all for my own good. I hate how she thinks that I'd just do whatever she says, and that I would benefit from pouring my heart out to some random psychologist.

"Honey," my mom says, her voice becoming softer, "This could be good for you! A therapist is more than that. It's-"

"It's what? It's gonna help me with all of my problems? It's gonna make me feel 'so much better?'" I hate how she is looking at Nora like she's sorry. "Look, I understand why you might think I need this, but I don't." I hate how she's shooting me looks, as if telling me to stop. "I know you're mad that I punched Andy, but he, Troy, and that other kid were-"

"Troy?" Nora says. "What did he do?"

"He was shoving Ella into the lockers! He was teasing her just because she's gay, and after I punched Andy, he punched her for no reason!" Nora looks shocked. I hate how she didn't care at all until I began talking about Troy.

"He said that he was different," she whispers, mostly to herself. "He said that he felt better." She turns to me, snapping out of her ---- state. "You said that he punched someone?" I nod, and she grabs her bag that was sitting on the desk and leaves.

My mom turns to me and sighs. "Troy is her son that she was talking about. She said that he had fought several kids at school, so she decided to send him to a therapist. He had apparently told her that he was feeling much better, and that he stopped fighting. But I guess she was wrong." She looks down, as if trying to find the right words. "Sam, I'm just... I'm sorry. I'm just confused, I guess. But you don't have to go to this therapist if you don't want to. And I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Let's just go home, okay?" I nod again, and my anger leaves me. I follow my mom out the door, and I go home, relieved to leave the school after that long day.

***

When we get home, I realize how exhausted I am. I throw my backpack down at the door, and plop onto the couch in the sitting room. But my relaxation is short lived.

Just as I lay down, my father walks in, much calmer than I expected him to be, and my older brother follows just behind him. I sit up and try to smile at him, but his face remains blank.

"Sam," he says with an emotionless voice. "Why did you punch that kid?" Why is he so calm? Did he talk to my brother? Every once in awhile, he helps get me out of trouble.

Before anyone can stop me, I begin a rant. I tell him about how Ella just came out, and how she was being teased for it. I tell him how they were slamming her into the lockers and calling her a fag. I talk about the anger that I felt, and how I punched him because I couldn't stand it, I couldn't stand him. I even explain the strange memory I had after Troy pushed me down. But I don't mention running off, or talking to Ella. I don't know why. I guess I just want to keep something to myself.

When I am finished, I take a deep breath, and my father nods. And then he surprises me.

"I understand," he says.

"What?"

"I understand why you punched him." He sighs, and smiles. "You know, you remind me of me when I was your age. I got angry easily." I'm clearly offended, but he continues. "I even punched someone once, just like you. They were bullying my friend." He pauses, thinking back on that day. "I guess what I mean is, you're not the only one. Everyone has their problems." I laugh a little, humored by his cheesy statement. He makes me feel much better about my current situation. "Nevertheless, this cannot go by without punishment." I stop smiling immediately. I thought I might have been off the hook. "What do you think?" he asks my mom.

"Grounding?" she asks. He nods, and points up to my room. I hang my head and trudge up the stairs, thoughts of the fight still swarming my head.