“What?”
“What do you want?” Dr. Martín repeated. She didn’t sound impatient, exactly, but rather sort of insistent. He scanned the room. Dr. Martín had several shelves’ worth of trucks, trains, and dolls on the wall to his right.
“What are those?” he asked.
“For the littler kids.” She held her pen over her notepad, ready to write. “I’ve got some things for my older clients, too. Drawing supplies and Model Magic, but not for you yet.” She smiled, but just barely. “You seem like the kind of person that can just tell me your goals first. Then, once that’s done, I’m guessing you’ll want to know the fastest, easiest way to get there.” He bit his lip. “Nobody wants to do therapy forever, even though the nature groups I run are pretty fun.” She smiled then for real and nodded at him. “So? What do you want?”
Teddy blinked a few times, and he exhaled through his nose, fast enough that he could hear it. He put his hot chocolate down again and gripped the armrest of the love seat. He wondered what to say that would make his answer right.
“Just say it.” Dr. Martín squinted at him. “Don’t think too hard.”
“I want to start junior high over.” Teddy felt his shoulders relax once he’d confessed it.
“Great.” Dr. Martín made a note. “Of course, I haven’t yet figured out time travel. But it’s a place to start.” She smiled again, and Teddy felt like she really did approve of him. “Now tell me more.”
“Nothing has gone the way it should go.” Teddy felt his voice catch. For a horrified second, he wondered if he might cry. He had noticed the three separate Kleenex boxes in Dr. Martín’s office, but he forced his tears back. He’d cried just yesterday about that goddamned Instagram video. Before that, it had been in the back seat of his mom’s Volvo after he missed his penalty kick in the semifinal shootout last summer.
“Like what?” Dr. Martín’s voice was softer, but still demanding.
“I don’t like my teachers as much as I liked Ms. Tierney.” He hadn’t thought of it until he said it. His sixth-grade teacher had clearly enjoyed him. They’d joked around, whereas his junior high teachers seemed suspicious of him. “My grades aren’t all As.” He’d expected to have all As. His mom had told him when he was in fourth or fifth grade that “all As” was how she’d gotten into Notre Dame.
Dr. Martín stared at him.
“The school soccer team is a joke. And,” Teddy added, “I was busier because I had to do ECSC and school soccer both.”
“Elm Creek Soccer Club?”
“How do you know?”
“My son plays for Liston Heights.” Teddy winced. His team had lost to Liston Heights Premier twice that summer. He didn’t remember seeing her on the sidelines. “He’s older than you are,” she explained without him asking.
“Liston Heights is really good.” He wanted to ask how old Dr. Martín’s son was, but he wasn’t sure that was allowed.
“And what about girls?” she asked after a moment. “Or boys. Any romantic interest?”
Teddy blushed. “At the end of sixth grade, we all got phones,” he said, though he realized it didn’t make sense.
Dr. Martín wrote something else, and he half stood to see. He expected her to pull the paper back toward herself, hiding it from him, but she did the opposite.
“Kids are usually curious about what I’m writing down,” she said. “It’s about them, after all.” She flipped the notebook toward him and he saw that she’d written his name at the top, and then without him noticing, she’d written “middle school do-over,” and below that, she’d added “phones at the end of 6th.”
Dr. Martín stared at him, and Teddy looked down at his lap. It seemed like he was supposed to say something. “Okay?” he tried.
“So now you know,” she said. “It’s just a list of things that I want to remember.” He nodded. “So, tell me about why the phones changed things.”
Teddy thought back to the sixth-grade graduation party. The text Sadie sent him on the bus on the way there before the chaperones, including Meredith, made them put their phones in this giant plastic tub, not unlike the one in which Dr. Martín kept the Duplos he could see on her shelves.
“Do you think Tane likes me?” Sadie’s text had appeared on Teddy’s home screen.
As he read it, it became harder to breathe. Tane had gotten to be the third tallest kid in their class that spring. Teddy had noticed he’d passed him right after spring break. And not only that, Tane had abandoned his short pants. He wore joggers all of a sudden, like all of Teddy’s friends, including one pair from Adidas. And he had a new pair of shoes, too: Brooks with laces instead of his usual Velcro.
Tane had asked if he could join the football game Teddy played at recess. He didn’t ask Teddy, but rather Ryan. Ryan always followed the school’s Welcome Rule, even though everyone knew they were too old for the babyish directive about inviting everyone to play.
And then Sadie had wanted to know whether Tane liked her.
“Don’t know,” Teddy had texted back.
“Find out?” He could see Sadie’s black ponytail a few seats in front of him on the bus. He had found it between Mikaela Heffernan’s blond waves and Sylvie Acheson’s short brown pigtails. He wondered if the other girls were reading Sadie’s texts.
As he looked, Sadie turned around and smiled at him, her eyes flashing. She held her phone up over the back of the seat, so he could see it. Text me back, she mouthed.
Tane Lagerhead? The kid’s parents said he couldn’t get a phone until the beginning of junior high. He’s in the board game club. “Okay,” typed Teddy. What else could he say to Sadie? No? He’d text her later that he couldn’t find out. No way Sadie and Tane could be, like, a thing.
“Teddy?” It was Dr. Martín, pulling him back. He looked at her glasses and at her notepad. He swiveled toward the Duplos on her shelf.
“I never really thought much about talking to Sadie until I had to type it in a text.”
Sadie Yoshida
Sadie’s dad was never home on school mornings, which was why she was so suspicious when she found him, his top button undone, pacing around the kitchen so close to the time her mom usually drove her to the junior high.
“What’s going on?” She glanced at the table where someone had laid a place mat and a paper towel. “Why aren’t you at work?”
Her dad smiled. “Aren’t I allowed to take a slow morning? Spend a little time with my girl?”
Sadie frowned. She opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice. “Where’s Mom?” She’d smelled pancakes from the second-floor landing, and she watched her dad flip the three he had on the griddle. Pancakes were usually a Sunday morning thing. Her dad whipped them up after he’d finished whatever long run was in his training plan. They’d eat them together while her mom power-walked with Alice and Nadia.
Her dad didn’t look up from the stove. “She had to stop by the junior high for a meeting.”
“What meeting?” Sadie grabbed one of the tiny glasses her mom insisted on for juice. “Too much sugar,” she’d say if Sadie tried for a bigger cup.
Her dad waved his spatula in the air. “Some wellness thing.”
Good guess, Dad, Sadie thought. Meredith’s favorite committee was student wellness. She used to teach the yoga classes at Elm Creek Elementary until it had gotten too embarrassing for Sadie to be the teacher’s kid.
Sadie stood next to her dad, who still wasn’t looking at her. Something felt off. She scanned the kitchen counter, where she usually kept her phone. The charger was there, but the phone was missing. “Have you seen my phone?” she asked.
Her dad pointed at the table near the back door. “Over there.”
“What’s it doing there?”
“Ah . . .” Her dad put the first of the pancakes on a cobalt plate and handed them to Sadie. He scooped three new blobs
of batter onto the griddle. Stalling, Sadie thought, suddenly nervous. She stood still, waiting for an answer. “Well, your mom took a look at your phone last night, sweetheart. It’s one of those things that parents do.”
She walked to the table, mentally scanning through the messages she’d received recently. Nothing major on her texts, and Meredith didn’t know about Snapchat or Finsta.
“Grab a fork,” her dad said, pointing at the silverware drawer. “Eat up.”
“Does Mom’s meeting have something to do with my phone?” It couldn’t, right? But why was her dad being so weird? She backtracked to the refrigerator for the syrup.
Her dad held his spatula aloft. “Do you have two Instagram accounts?”
“No,” she said automatically, though she could feel her face heating.
“Sadie?” His voice wasn’t angry, exactly. It was the same tone he used if she forgot to empty the recycling or left her dinner plate on the counter instead of putting it in the dishwasher.
If he’s asking, they probably already know. Sadie sat down, poured her syrup, shoved a hunk of pancake in her mouth. She stared at a brownish stain on the blue place mat. Should she deny the Finsta? It might get her in worse trouble. Warm pancake stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she grabbed her juice glass.
By the time she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her dad had taken the next three pancakes off the griddle. He stared at her over the counter. “Well?” he said. “Did you want to revise that answer?”
Sadie stuck out her lower lip and blew her breath out, defeated. She rubbed a tense spot on her shoulder. “Fine,” she said. “Yes, I have a Finsta. Everyone has them.”
Though she wasn’t looking, Sadie could hear three more pancakes sizzling. Ordinarily, she’d love the cozy, starchy smell, but with the backdrop of her parents discovering her secret, the sweetness of the syrup made her stomach turn. She pushed her plate away after just the one bite.
“Can I have my phone?” she asked.
“Yes.” Her dad glanced at her. “But Mom and I want you to know we’ll be having a serious talk tonight.”
“Fine,” Sadie said. She stood and grabbed the device. “I’m not hungry. I’ll be ready in ten. Are you driving me?” She looked at the clock and bounded upstairs to her room before her dad could answer.
She clicked on @SadeeLux as soon as she’d closed her bedroom door. If they knew about this account, they’d seen all the photos. Her mother now knew she wore her skating makeup at school. She’d probably figured out that Mikaela had come over to the house when no adults were home. And she might have read her DMs.
Sadie held her breath and pain radiated down each of her arms. She thought back to the evening before, the horrible moment when she’d seen that message from Teddy. She’d known he’d be furious about the video, but he’d been acting like such a jerk with the dodgeball thing and the homecoming game. And hadn’t he done something so much worse to Tane than she’d done in that video? Showing everyone Tane’s actual naked body?
A stuffed otter wasn’t really a big deal. Probably half the kids in their class had their own stuffies or blankies. Sadie looked at her bookshelf where she herself kept Ansel, the floppy-eared rabbit she’d begged for on a family trip to South Dakota when she’d been in the third grade.
But as she thought about Teddy’s otter, Gigi, she knew it was the Pull-Ups that made Teddy write that horrible thing to her. She’d found out about them on a camping trip their families had taken the summer after fifth grade. She remembered the smell and Teddy’s sleepy embarrassed eyes as he whispered about it with Alice outside the kids’ tent. When Teddy had gone to the bathroom, Sadie had peeked in his duffel bag and seen the extra ones, like diapers but bigger, with gray and blue stripes that were meant to make them look like real underwear.
She dropped her phone and pulled her jeans on, trading her night shirt for her favorite pink V-neck.
“We’ll talk about it tonight, right?” Sadie asked her dad when she slid into the car next to him. “Because I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
He seemed relieved to agree, and he didn’t insist she get in the back seat, where she usually sat when her mom drove.
* * *
WHEN SADIE GOT to school, Meredith was waiting for her outside the office, her hands in a ball.
Great, Sadie thought, instantly horrified. She stalled just inside the doorway searching vainly for an escape. Everyone else’s mothers seemed to understand that parents didn’t come into the junior high, at least not during passing time when everyone was in the halls. But Sadie’s mother had already seen her. She beckoned her with frantic waving. Sadie scanned the rest of the foyer. Kids streamed in through all four glass doors. She didn’t see any of her friends, thank God. She usually met Chloe and Mikaela near the library after they’d grabbed their stuff for first period. This morning, though, with the pancakes and the Instagram, she was running late.
Sadie slumped as she walked toward her mother. She looked back over her shoulder, calculating the number of witnesses. When she stood in front of her, she tensed, ready for a whisper-shouted scolding about the Finsta and the secrets, but instead, her mom pulled her into a hard hug, her breath a little shuddery. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into the top of Sadie’s head.
What? Sadie hugged back with bent arms. She patted her mom’s back, hoping to shorten the embrace. She imagined the eighth graders laughing at her as they walked by.
“Mom?” she tried. “This is a little much for school.” She dropped her arms to her sides, hoping the movement would prompt her mom to let go. It sort of worked, but then her mom seized her arms and pulled her closer. Sadie looked at the floor and tried ineffectively to shake free.
“Are you okay?” her mom demanded.
“Mom, yes.” Sadie took a step back, but her mom followed. Sadie was sure she could hear snickers behind her. “Let go,” she whispered. “This is really embarrassing.”
“Oh, Sadie, stop.” Her mom sounded annoyed, but to Sadie’s immense relief, she did let go. “I’m just so worried about you, honey,” she continued, her words tumbling out fast. “I had no idea you’d gotten into this Instagram mess, and now those horrible messages from Teddy. I just had to tell Mr. Whittaker right away. Don’t worry, though. We’ll get it taken care of.”
“Wait,” said Sadie. “You read the DMs and told Mr. Whittaker?” And this was her mother’s idea of helping? If Mr. Whittaker knew about the DMs, he’d probably also learn about the video. People knew that she was the one who gave Tane the intel.
Her mom’s voice got louder still. “Of course I told Mr. Whittaker! Teddy was completely out of line. And cruel! I just wish you’d told me last night when you were so upset. I’m here to support you.” Sadie closed her eyes and started to shake her head, but her mother’s voice rose in crescendo. “We’ll deal with the fake Instagram later, Sadie, because that’s a clear violation of the trust we’ve established, but cyberbullying?”
Sadie held up a hand to stop her. “Mom,” she tried again.
“Dad and I just won’t abide that, Sadie. We won’t!”
A kid bumped into Sadie’s mom’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he looked back at them and laughed.
“I have to go to class.” Sadie took some quick steps in the direction of her locker.
“Okay, sweetie!” her mom shouted after her. “Dad and I are here for you.” Sadie scrambled away as if escaping a monster in a horror film.
Alice Sullivan
When they got in the car, Alice handed Teddy a bakery bag with a chocolate long john inside. The end of the session had been fine. Julienne had been complimentary about Teddy—“extraordinarily open and self-aware,” she’d said—and Alice had faked her way through plans for more appointments, which they obviously couldn’t have. Alice had collected herself during a quick run to the gas station for the donut. Teddy had c
ooperated and even seemed happy about the idea of continuing therapy. And now, Alice braced herself all over again for the reentry meeting they’d have with Assistant Principal Whittaker in fifteen minutes.
“Thanks.” Teddy admired the chocolate icing. If only it were always so easy to please her children, Alice thought. He bit off about a third of the donut, and Alice backed out of her parking spot and tried not to get her hopes up that he’d confide too much in her. One session, after all, could hardly change their whole lives; plus, she hadn’t stopped sweating, worrying at every moment that Julienne would realize her ruse.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Teddy said, mouth full. “Are we going to school?” He seemed almost excited to get there. Alice felt surprised by this and realized with a start that she couldn’t remember the last time he’d anticipated school. She flashed on a pajama day the elementary had had a couple of years ago. She remembered his toothy grin that morning as he’d danced in his slippers. But since then? She realized he hadn’t seemed happy at school in a long time.
The optimism she felt about his attitude faded as soon as they walked into the junior high and saw Jason Whittaker, who stood with his hands in his pockets outside the glass-walled office. “I’ve been waiting for you,” Whittaker said. Teddy tossed the empty donut bag into the wide-mouthed garbage can as if he were hefting a free throw. Alice wished he hadn’t done that. Wrong tone, she thought, and she put her hand on his arm.
“What?” He shook her off.
Alice smiled. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m afraid not.” Whittaker turned and gestured for them to follow. Alice asked Teddy a silent question with her eyebrow. What did you do?
Teddy shrugged. “Nothing,” he whispered, but he kept his eyes on the floor, the tile morphing to carpet once they’d made it into Whittaker’s office. Alice doubled back to close the door behind Teddy and stared at the row of succulents on Mr. Whittaker’s filing cabinet. She was tempted to reach a finger out to touch the smooth leaves of the echeveria. Is it artificial?
Are We There Yet? Page 14
