High One Thousand

Every Tuesday she comes. My teteteteacher mamamakes her wait outside my clclclclassroom until 2:25, but I see her pppppppeeking into the classroom door through the little glass window at 2:21, or 2:22, with a big smile.

On the first dadadaday she came, I think she wanted to hug me and I thought. "No way." BBBBBBut then she lifted up one hand to gigigigive me a high five, so I gave it bbbback, hard, and she didn't seem to mind. She told me to pipipipipick a bbbbig number instead of five and I said one thousand bbbbbbecause it's bbbbbig and told me from now on we will say high one thousand and I liked that, bbbbbecause I never heard anyone say high one thousand. And she said it again, right away, "High one thousand," pretty loud, lifting both hands, like a high ten, and her voice and hands made me forget about hitting bbbbback hard.

We walked down the hall together, and I wasn't sure whwhwwhy or where we were going. She led me to the cacacacacafeteria and told me we could play a game. Just the two of us. There were other kids there with one grown up too, all at separate tables, and I wanted to sit near Germaine, but she said that is against the rules and I don't like rules, bbbbbut I listened anyway. We put down our things and went to the gagagagame closet outside the cacacacacafeteria and I picked playdough even though it isn't really a gagagagagame. The reason I like playdough is because I can smash it, bbbbbreak it, and cut it and not get in trouble. In school and at home I destroy things and I always get in trtrtrtrtrouble. My hands just do it, even if I don't want to, like they are my bbbbbbboss, instead of my teacher or my mother. And the guidance counselor said, "Maybe a mentor will help," so I know that is who she is. She ttttttold me to cacacacall her Miss BB but I didn't say her nananame out lalalaloud the first day, only in my head, bbbbecause I always get stuck on the BBBB's and I thought why should I learn her name, bbbecause she will not come bbbback, bbbbecause she is not going to like me. Nononobbbbody ddddoes.

After I took the playdough out of the container, right away I started stabbbbbing at the purple, hard, and she didn't ask me why. She just took out the pink and gently started rolling small bbbbballs next to me and asked me to make the same size bbbbballs with the purple, or bbbbigger ones if I wanted, bbbbbut I didn't, and kept stabbing the purple until it was the size peas. She asked me if I was mad and if I wanted to talk about why and I didn't want to look at her bbbbbecause I think she must bbbbbe nice, and nice people should just go away from bbbbboys like me, the way my Daddy did. BBBBut he wasn't nice. He left us bbbbecause of the fighting and I know it was mostly all my fault. My sister's too, bbbbbecause of her wheelchair and the way she smells. And bbbbecause we don't have enough money. And because he didn't like the way people stare at us and whisper and I don't either. Why don't they stop?

And then Miss BB said something so nice that I wanted to stop stabbing, but I didn't, because it is what my hands do. She said, if I am angry and if I feel like stabbing things, it doesn't matter to her. She said Tuesdays at 2:25 is a special time for her, like a holiday, because she will get to see me, a special, good little boy, and that no matter what I do, she is going to keep coming, every Tuesday to sit with me even if I don't feel like talking, just to sit next to me, because she knows I am good. I told her that she must be thinking of another boy and she said "Nope. You. Only you." And I almost wanted to give her a hug, but instead I said high one thousand, and we did it and we do it every time she comes, because she told me the truth about Tuesdays. One time I overheard the security guard whisper to her when we were leaving the cafeteria, "Do you realize he doesn't stutter when he is with you?" Why is he listening in on our special time? Doesn't he know she is only here for me?