Читать книгу Nirvana Is Here - Aaron Hamburger - Страница 16

SENSITIVE

DR. DON WANTED ME TO PRACTICE standing on our front porch, for one minute, then two, then three. He loaned me an egg timer shaped like an angry tomato for this purpose. So I took it out there and stood with my eyes closed.

Faintly in the distance, I heard the angry buzz of a lawn mower, or maybe a hedge trimmer sawing away stray branches. I recalled Dr. Don’s promises that I’d be safe standing here, but he didn’t know Mark, who might appear on his porch and wound me with a frown, or raised eyebrow, or a blank look in my direction.

This exercise was supposed to get easier with time.

Back inside, Mom was explaining on the phone why I was suddenly switching schools: “It isn’t a snob thing. He’s just sensitive. At his old school, he attracted bullies.”

Sensitive, I thought. It sounded like code for something much worse.