Catch Me (Synacky)

Chapter Four: Brian

Zacky had one bad week. During that time, he did not speak to me, he made these weird sounds and rocked back and forth all through the night, and he wet the bed once. He fought the people that came to wake us up and take us to breakfast, he fought the people that tried to get him to take a shower. He was scared out of his mind.

I switched back and forth a bit during that week, but I wasn’t co-conscious, so I don’t remember much of it. Johnny told me he learned how to spell puppy, and I congratulated him.

After that week, when I spoke to him, he spoke back. He walked with me to school, which was, like, 50 feet away from the main building of the institution. The whole property was surrounded by a big, angry looking fence. No one would ever get out of this place.

Zacky was really quiet. He handled everything awkwardly, but I didn’t mind it. I actually thought it was kinda cute. I asked Todd why Zacky was here, and Todd told me Zacky’s autism proved to be too much for his father to handle.

Autism. Huh.

I didn’t really know what it meant to be autistic. But I had a boy with it sharing a room with me, so I guess I was going to find out.

I figured I needed to be real gentle with him. He was still scared out of his mind. I asked Steph what I could do to make him feel more comfortable here, and she said that Zacky probably would like a schedule. The same things in the same order every day. And he’d want people around him that aren’t loud and crazy, that were content with sitting quietly and reading books.

Well, I could read comics, but I didn’t like novels. Jimmy was the avid reader of the three of us, and on top of that, he was crazy. Johnny struggled with reading, but sometimes Jimmy and I made him do it anyway. It was good for him.

Christmas was a week and a half away. I was reminded of that because sometimes when I regained consciousness after Johnny was around, red and green drawings would be strewn around the room. Sometimes when I was co-con, I’d tell him how to draw a Christmas tree.

I wondered if Zacky had met Johnny yet. Something told me that they hadn’t been formally introduced. I wondered if his dad would come here for Christmas. My parents would be here, along with my brother, all big hugs and smiles. They might even bring McKenna, but I doubted it. They wouldn’t bring her to an atmosphere like this.

One afternoon, in our break before therapy, I was sitting on my bed, reading a guitar tab book. Zacky was staring at me hard. It was kinda unnerving, but I pretended not to notice, skimming over some Queen tabs. Out the window, the first snowfall of the year was covering the world in white. I couldn’t wait to go out there and play in it, but we only got to go outside once a day, for not very long.

“Do you play guitar?”

Zacky’s voice startled me, and I peeked over the top of my book. “Um, yeah. I do. Do you?”

Zacky nodded, hand petting over his stuffed dog’s coat. He was silent for a long while, then said, “I have two guitars at home.”

I smiled. “I do too. An acoustic and an electric.”

Zacky didn’t respond. Damn, the kid was really shy. But I was happy he had initiated a conversation, however brief it was. I asked, “How long have you been playing?”

Zacky didn’t reply, and I started to wonder if he hadn’t heard me. I opened my mouth to ask again, when he said, “Nine years, 11 months, and six days.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. How old are you? I’ve been playing guitar for probably six or seven years, but I’m not sure exactly how long…”

Zacky shut up for good, then. He acted like he hadn’t heard me, and I sighed. Maybe I had said too much at once.