The Grays

high that he couldn’t even begin to touch its meaning. They had changed him, though, and he was marked, and would forever be marked, by the greatness of that hour.

Will had said as Conner came out onto the playground: “Hey, Conner, how’s it hangin’,” smooth and easy, but his inner voice had screamed, I’d like to get a knife and cut your heart out, you stupid asshole!

Look at them playing around now, laughing, horsing around… and glancing at him from time to time, sly glances from Will and Kevin and David Roland, from Lannie Freer—even sweet Lannie Freer—who had imagined, that she was going to come up behind him and tap him on the shoulder and spit in his face when he turned around.

She’d done it, too, she’d tapped him on the shoulder and he had run, it had been like a nightmare knowing what she was planning.

Not all the kids had those thoughts. Paulie didn’t, thank God for little blessings. He was only thinking how scared he was of Conner. He was thinking how to convince his parents to move, and feeling sick inside every time he so much as glanced Conner’s way. Then he’d smiled and said, “Hey, pal, I ditched the busters, okay? They’re gone.” He’d snapped his fingers and said, “Poof!” and his mind had said, Get away from me, you’re a monster, get away!

Then a familiar car appeared at the end of the street. It turned, came this way. Conner tore through the gate and down the middle of the street. The moment Mom stopped, he jumped in.

“Honey, what’s the matter? Do you have fever?” He doesn’t look sick, he looks terrified. If they’ve been hassling him, that damn Paulie, my poor little guy, he’s too damn small for eleven, the baby…

He looked at her. Most of the time, her mouth hadn’t moved. He pushed up against the door, but it wasn’t good enough, he could still hear that sorrowing voice and he didn’t want it to be that way, he wanted his mother to see him as strong and confident.

“Conner?” What’s the matter now? Oh I’m so tired, the damn kid… “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Her face smiled but that was no smile, he knew the truth of it, he knew that his mom wasn’t close to being as happy and contented and full of energy like she wanted him to think. She was terribly upset and so tired that last night she’d dreamed about her own funeral.

“You won’t have a funeral!” he shouted.

“What? What funeral? Conner, what’s the matter with you? Why do you want to go home in the middle of the day?”

“Mom,” he whispered, “I love you so.”

“Oh, honey, I love you so, too! What happened, honey, why do you want to leave school?” Why can’t he get along, oh but I do love you, I do love you my gray eyes.

How could he tell her that the kids wanted to kill him? The thoughts came back to him, the ones imagining that they would shoot him, the ones imagining that they would kick him to death, knife him, choke him, but smiling, always smiling. How could he tell her about that?

Mom pulled the car over and stopped and turned toward him. “Honey,” she said, reaching out her hand, “honey, now, what’s the trouble? Why do you need to go home, what happened? What happened at school, Conner? Did Paulie and his friends give you a hard time? Because if that damned kid—”

The angry thoughts that accompanied these words were like brands burning into his skull as she talked. She wanted to slap Paulie, to shake Maggie Warner until she broke her neck, to wade into the class slashing with a sword.

“Mom! No, Mom! It’s not that, it’s not Paulie. Paulie was okay to me today. It was better than it has been, actually.”

“Then why aren’t you on your way into English Lit? Why did you tell me it was an emergency, Conner? You terrified me! I adjourned my seminar and came over here as fast as I could. But you’re not sick and you’re not hurt and you’re not in trouble with the kids. So why am I here, Conner? Please tell me.”

He tried not to listen to her thoughts, but he did listen, and she was thinking what is wrong with my child? and that thought was making her scared.

“Mom, I need to be home.”

“Then it’s not an emergency? You’re just—”

“I need to be home!”

She sighed, then put the car in gear. Then she turned around, heading back toward the school.

“It’s an emergency!”

“All right, tell me what the emergency is.”

He could not tell her he could hear thoughts, hers included. How could he? He said, “I’m afraid I’ll go insane on you, unless I can go home and get some private space.”

She took a sharp breath. Then she stopped the car again and sat there for a moment in silence. Look at his face! He looks insane! Oh, God, he looks like his great-gran. Could it be that he’s schizophrenic, too, will we be cursed now with that? Help him, help him God.

He smiled a glaring, hollow smile.

“Come on,” she said, “whatever, you can take the rest of the day off. Let’s go home and game together. Would you like to game with me?”

They played a lot of Myst: Uru together but he didn’t want to. “You never told me we had schizophrenia in the family.”

She was silent for some time. When she talked, her voice lilted like it did when she was trying to hide something. “What makes you ask that?”

He had to watch her lips to see if they were moving, or he was going to keep giving himself away. If Mom knew he could hear her thoughts, she was going to withdraw from him. Not right away, but over time. Anybody would, because of the invasion of privacy. He hunched close to the door, stared out.

“What makes you ask that particular question right now?”

“Uh, it was in science.”

“They were talking about schizophrenia in science? Why was that?”

“Abnormal-psych module.”

“Dan would be fascinated.” Oh, my Dan, I need you now.

Conner clapped his hands to his ears and forced the scream that urged to get out to become a hiss through his teeth, ssssss!

Mom’s neck flushed, she gripped the steering wheel, she glared straight ahead. Then she sort of shook it off. She started the car and they continued home.

“Mom, it’s not Dad’s fault.”

“What isn’t Dad’s fault?”

“Mom… you know. It’s not his fault.”

She almost ran the car off the road. Then she looked at him with her eyes bugging out and her face bright red. What is this? Her hand came out and she grabbed his shoulder and she turned him to her. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry.”

She stared at the road, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Conner, I think I know why you’re feeling so bad. You’re feeling so bad because you know about Marcie.”

He did not exactly know, not the name. But now he did, because the instant she uttered the word Marcie, a huge complex of thoughts and feelings had poured out of her. They were frightening adult thoughts about sex and things he knew little about, and they made him feel like he was prying into his mother’s deepest privacy, and he didn’t want to but could not help it.

“Conner, has she been at the house? Has she been there when I was gone?”

He shook his head. She’d turned onto Starnes, which meant that they would be home soon and he could get away into his room and get out of this hell of thoughts.

“She has, hasn’t she, Conner? You answer me!” He better not lie because if he lies, he’s not my son, not anymore!