Suicide Notes

Seven little crazy kids chopping up sticks;
One burnt her daddy up and then there were six.
Six little crazy kids playing with a hive;
One tattooed himself to death and then there were five.
Five little crazy kids on a cellar door;
One went all schizo and then there were four.
Four little crazy kids going out to sea;
One wouldn’t say a word, and then there were three.
Three little crazy kids walking to the zoo;
One jerked himself too much and then there were two.
Two little crazy kids sitting in the sun;
One took a bunch of pills and then there was one.
One little crazy kid left all alone;
He went and slit his wrists, and then there were none.
 
 
“So this is what we were to her,” I said. “Just a list of problems.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” said Cat Poop. “I think she wanted to believe
that you all had something in common.”

---

“Being crazy?” I said.
He nodded. “It probably made her feel better about herself.”
Maybe so, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I’m even
madder at her than I was before. I’m mad because she turned out to be such
a phony. She wanted me—and everyone else—to think she was so cool and
nothing could bother her. She wanted us to believe that she really had it all
together. And we did. Or at least I did.
But she wasn’t together. She wasn’t cool and strong and smarter than
everyone else. She was afraid. She was afraid we’d all see the real her one
day and that we wouldn’t like it. Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like that she
lied to me and made me think she was someone she wasn’t. I don’t like that
she pretended to be cool with everything but was really running away. I
don’t like that I want to be sad about her dying but I can’t because I’m too
mad at her.
First Allie and now Sadie. They both left me. And even though Sadie
never said it, part of me still wonders if it’s because I’m gay. Allie couldn’t
handle it. Maybe Sadie couldn’t either.
So now it’s just me, Juliet, and Martha. The last three little soldier boys.
I guess everyone waiting behind the velvet ropes to get in decided to go to a
different club or something. Tonight after dinner, me and Juliet were sitting
in the lounge. I don’t know why, but I asked her, “Did you like Sadie?”
Juliet put down the book she was reading. “I liked her the way you like
a hurt dog,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“You feel sorry for it, and you want to help it, but you’re not sure it
won’t bite you when you’re not looking,” Juliet said.
Now I know Juliet says some weird stuff. But sometimes she gets it
exactly right, like occasionally her craziness goes away long enough for her
to really see you. I knew what she meant. Sadie was kind of like that. She
was always wagging her tail and making you think she liked you, but I’m
not sure she really liked any of us any more than she liked herself.
“What about Rankin?” I asked Juliet.
She shook her head. “I never liked him,” she said. “Did you?”
As far as I know, she doesn’t know anything about what happened with
Rankin and me. I think only Moonie, Goody, and Carl know, and I don’t
think they would say anything. I guess they’ve seen so many crazy things

---

that they forget about them pretty fast or at least get really good at
pretending to.
I shrugged. “I thought we were friends,” I told her. “But I guess I didn’t
like him. Not really.”
“Why would you be friends with someone you didn’t like?” Juliet asked
me. For a second she reminded me of Cat Poop, and I pictured her with a
pad and pencil.
“Sometimes you don’t know you don’t like someone until you’ve been
around them for a while,” I said.
“I do,” said Juliet. “I can always tell if I like someone or not.”
I asked her how.
“I get itchy when I’m near them,” she said. “I think I’m allergic to
dangerous people. Rankin made me itch.”
You might think she’s just nuts, but it makes as much sense as anything
else. I mean, how do you know if people are good for you or not? It’s not
like they come with an fda approved sticker or anything.
That made me think about Allie again and whether or not we’re still
friends. It’s not like this was our first fight. It was just a lot more serious
than other fights we’ve had. What if she calls and apologizes for dumping
me? Would I forgive her?
Man, that’s a hard one. It’s not like we just had a fight over what movie
to go to. She cut me out because Burke told her I kissed him. She didn’t
even stop to ask me if it was true.
But it was true. That’s the thing. If she’d asked me then, I would have
said Burke was lying or that I was joking around with him. I would never
have told her that I was gay, because I couldn’t even tell myself that I was.
So she was kind of right. Not to break our friendship up the way she did but
about being angry. I don’t even know if she was angrier about me maybe
being gay or me kissing her boyfriend. She never gave me the chance to
ask.
I know Allie pretty well, and I don’t think she’d stop being my friend
because I’m gay. If I had just told her, things might have been different.
Now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance.

---

Day 41
“I’m pretty sure I’m gay, and I’d like to find out more about what that
means.”
My dad was really quiet for a while. Then he said, “You’re too young to
know something like that.”
Only it wasn’t my dad. It was Cat Poop. Today I had my dress rehearsal
with him. My dress rehearsal for telling my parents about myself. I decided
last night that I would do it. I mean, if I’m going to go to all the trouble of
being gay and everything, I might as well tell people.
Cat Poop offered to be both my dad and my mom, but the idea of my
mom needing to shave really didn’t work for me, so I told him we could
stick to my dad. Besides, I think my father will be the hard one to deal with,
anyway. Dads usually are.
So he sits in the chair across from me and I try to start. Only I can’t
think of anything that doesn’t sound dumb. “I have something to tell you”
just sounds like bad soap opera dialogue. “There’s something you need to
know about me” is even worse, like you’re about to announce that you have
leukemia or are a secret agent or something. Really, everything sounds way
too dramatic.
I finally said, “I want to talk to you about why I hurt myself.” Then I
explained about Allie and Burke and how I was afraid of the feelings I had
for Burke and about how Allie had stopped being my friend because of it.
That’s when my “dad” said the thing about me being too young to know
what I want. I was a little shocked at how hostile he sounded. Then I
remembered that Cat Poop was playing a part. He didn’t know how my
father would really respond, so he was trying one possible way to see what I
did.
“I know I’m young,” I said. “But I also know how strong these feelings
are, and I think I need to see what they mean.” It didn’t sound like me at all,
but it was true. Besides, parents like it when you talk like that. It makes you
sound more like them. Although now that I think about it, maybe that will
just scare them more.

---

“You just need to see a shrink,” said Cat Poop Dad. “That will fix you.”
I wanted to laugh, but the doc looked really serious. I tried to imagine
my dad really saying that. I don’t think he ever would, but it scared me to
think that he could. I said, “I have been seeing a shrink, and he’s helped me
understand a lot of things about myself. I’d like to keep talking to him if it’s
okay with you, but I don’t think I need to be fixed. I just need to talk about
some stuff.”
“What am I going to tell your grandmother?” asked Cat Poop. “What
am I supposed to tell people?”
I took a deep breath and faced him. “Tell them the truth,” I said. “I’m
not ashamed of myself. If you are, I’m sorry. But I don’t think there’s
anything for you to be ashamed of.”
Cat Poop nodded. “Not bad,” he said. “Shall we try a different
reaction?”
We went through some more scenes, or whatever you’d call them.
Sometimes my dad was okay with what I had to say, and other times he was
angry. By the time we were done I was exhausted. I don’t know how movie
stars do the same scene over and over like that. It takes a lot out of you.
Cat Poop asked me how the different reactions made me feel. I told him
that, obviously, the ones where my dad wasn’t upset were the best. Then he
asked me which one I thought was most likely to happen.
I wish I knew. I really do. But I don’t. You’d think that after living with
these people for fifteen years I’d know a little something about them. But
right now I feel like I don’t know my parents at all. I guess when you get
down to it, I’ve never really thought about them as people. They’ve always
been my parents. Now I have to think about them as people with feelings.
What a pain.
The funny thing is, I bet they feel the same way. I bet they sit around at
home wondering how to talk to this kid who looks like their son but acts
like someone they’ve never met in their lives. In a way, that makes me feel
a little bit better. It’s like we’re all going to find out who we are. But it’s
still scary. I’m still worried that there’s a tiny, tiny chance that they’ll
completely flip out and disown me.
We’ll find out on Sunday.

---

Day 42
Someone new arrived today, so apparently our nuthouse is still the hottest
club in town after all. He says his name is Squirrel. I can’t imagine anyone
would name a kid that, but it’s what he wants to be called. And it sort of fits
him. He’s really skinny, and he darts his eyes all over the place when he’s
talking, like he’s afraid that if he looks right at you, you’ll explode.
We met him in group today. As the rest of us introduced ourselves, I
couldn’t help thinking about my first day. Did I look as freaked out as
Squirrel did? Probably. Then again, I had Bone, Alice, and Sadie in my
group. That would freak anyone out. Squirrel just has me, Juliet, and
Martha. I don’t think any of us are all that scary. Well, maybe Juliet is, but
only once you get to know her. Even then, she’s not so bad.
I don’t know what Squirrel’s problem is. He didn’t say. But if I had to
take a guess, I’d say he’s probably got a couple of things going on. Maybe
drugs. Maybe depression. Maybe both. You kind of start to catch on to this
stuff when you’ve been here a while. It’s almost like every problem has a
different smell. Squirrel smells like a combination of cigarette ashes and
cotton candy. It’s not pretty.
I wonder if everyone knew right off that I’d tried to kill myself. I mean,
I did have bandages on my wrists, so it wasn’t like it was a total mystery.
They didn’t know about the gay thing, though. They couldn’t see that.
Except maybe Rankin. Maybe he knew. Why else would he have done
what he did? Sure, I was the only other guy here. But would he have done
that with Bone? Did he do that with Bone? I think he probably would have
if he’d had the chance. It’s not like he was in love with me or anything. It
was just something he did. I didn’t mean anything to him. Then again, he
didn’t really mean anything to me either, so I guess that makes us even.
Funny, I’ve fooled around with a guy I didn’t care about, and the one
guy I have cared about would never even think about touching me.
Sometimes I wonder if Burke does ever think about me. I mean, he and
Allie must have talked about what happened. I wonder if he ever imagines
what it would be like if we did do anything. I mean, I’ve wondered about

---

what it would be like with Allie even though she’s a girl. And since Burke
knows I like him, wouldn’t he have to think about it? Or is the idea of it so
disgusting that he can’t even imagine it?
I wonder if Allie thinks about what it would be like to have sex with me.
That’s a little harder to imagine. But I know Allie. She dwells on stuff.
Forever. “Letting go” is a foreign concept to her. Three years ago, Meg
Crenshaw made a comment about how a sweater Allie wore made her look
like a Sunday School teacher. Allie still hasn’t forgotten it.
I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about that. Not about the
sweater. About how Allie feels. Not that it’s totally up to me. Allie has a say
in it, too. So does Burke, I guess. It sounds weird, but I really don’t think I
care what he thinks of me anymore. Allie is more important to me than he
is. But am I more important to her than Burke? I guess I wouldn’t blame her
if she picked her boyfriend over me. I’d be really pissed off, though.
Anyway, back to Squirrel. I talked to him a little bit this afternoon. He’s
still on the Wonder Drug, so I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet that he’s in a
psych ward. Part of me wanted to tell him. Then I remembered how cool it
was to fly around in space smelling clean air, and I decided not to.
Instead, we played Monopoly. I know, it’s the most boring game in
existence. But it’s good for killing time, and you don’t have to think too
much about it. Juliet and Martha played, too. Juliet was the top hat, Martha
was the little dog, I was the shoe, and Squirrel was the race car.
Martha won. She bought up all the red properties and set up hotels there,
and that wiped the rest of us out. For someone who barely says anything,
that girl is one tough landlord. When I couldn’t pay the rent on Indiana
Avenue, she made me give her Marvin Gardens and the Reading Railroad.
She’s like a little Donald Trump, only with better hair.
Afterward, the four of us sat there watching the snow fall outside. For
some reason, I counted, and I realized that I’m getting out of here on
Valentine’s Day. That’s kind of ironic, don’t you think? I mean, I ended up
here because I was all heartbroken over Burke. Now I’m getting out on the
most romantic day of the year.
Maybe I should make Burke a valentine. Just kidding. I’m so over him.
Sure, he’s cute. And nice. And funny. Okay, so maybe I’m not totally over
him. But there’s that whole being straight thing. That’s kind of a problem as
far as he and I being boyfriends go.

---

Besides, I don’t think it was really him I wanted. It was the idea of him.
I saw how happy he made Allie. Makes Allie. Present tense. At least, I
assume they’re still together.
Maybe someday I’ll have a boyfriend to give a valentine to. Thinking
about that kind of makes me sick, actually. I’m not exactly romantic, you
know? And did you know that Valentine’s Day originally started when this
emperor like a million years ago made marriage illegal because he thought
it made soldiers weak? This priest—Valentine—married people in secret
anyway, and he ended up having his head cut off because of it. So the first
Valentine was some guy’s head. There’s some history for you.
It’s sort of perfect, when you think about it. Isn’t falling in love a lot like
losing your head?

---

Day 43
If you ever have to tell your parents you’re gay, there’s only one thing I can
promise you: However you think they’ll react, they won’t.
I tried not to think about it too much, but I was awake almost all night
doing exactly that. I kept running through the different scenarios that I’d
rehearsed the other day with Cat Poop.
What actually happened wasn’t like anything we did, though. Well, it
was and it wasn’t. It was more like a little bit of everything we did.
Things started off kind of badly because my parents were late. I don’t
know why, but they were arguing about it when they got here. Something
about my mother not being ready on time or my father having to stop for
gas. It doesn’t matter. It’s just that they were already in a weird mood. Oh,
and they brought Amanda with them, which was actually kind of good,
because I wanted her to hear what I had to say, too.
So my parents were kind of bickering, not really fighting but being
snappy with each other. Amanda was sitting there rolling her eyes the way
she does when she’s completely embarrassed for people to know that she’s
related to our mom and dad. And I was trying not to throw up.
Cat Poop started things off by reminding my parents that I would be
coming home soon. As in two days. That snapped them out of their moods a
little bit. My mother got all smiley and my father kept nodding, like
someone had asked him a question and he was answering yes. Amanda
hunched down in her seat, chewed on the ends of her hair, and tried to
disappear. I think she’s about at the end of her patience with my parents. It’s
good that I’m coming home to distract them.
Then Cat Poop started talking about how well I’ve been doing in the
hospital and how much progress we’ve made. It was all doctor crap, and I
knew he was saying it to make me look healthy and not crazy before I
dropped the big bomb on everyone. I was glad he did it, because my parents
are really into what doctors have to say about stuff. One could tell them
their heads were made out of blue cheese and they’d probably buy it.

---

Once we’d established the fact that I wasn’t going to go all Amityville
Horror on them and kill them in their sleep when I got home, Cat Poop
asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell them. That was my cue to
spill the news. Only I couldn’t even remember my name right then. It was
like everything had gone blank inside my head. I turned into my dad and
just started nodding, like I was agreeing with something he had said. I was
like this giant bobble-head doll sitting there in the chair nodding, nodding,
nodding.
Because I wasn’t saying anything, my mother started talking. She talked
about the new curtains she’d put up in my room, and about how much the
dog missed me, and how my grandmother was making cookies—chocolate
chip cookies—and was going to bring them over when I came home. I sat
there and watched her mouth open and close, wondering how she could talk
so fast and still breathe.
Then my father started talking, too, saying stuff to my mother like,
“Marjorie, Jeff doesn’t care about the curtains” and, to me, “How’d you like
to go skiing next weekend?”
They were both talking at once. Cat Poop was trying to interrupt them,
but they were ignoring him. The only one not talking besides me was
Amanda, so I looked at her and said, “How would you like to have a gay
brother?”
Then everyone stopped talking and stared at me. Amanda stopped
chewing her hair and sat up. “That would be okay with me,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because you do,” I told her.
My mother gave a little gasp. Amanda sat there with her mouth open.
My father said, “Sweet Jesus Christ on a biscuit.” I swear to God that’s
what he said. Sweet Jesus Christ on a biscuit.
“You’re gay?” Amanda said, really emphasizing the gay part so that it
sounded like the longest word anyone had every said. “As in gay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I am.”
My father said the thing about Jesus on a biscuit again and my mother
said, “Eric,” like he was five years old. Then she shook her head and said,
“I don’t understand. What do you mean you’re gay?”
I thought for a second I was going to have to explain to her what gay
meant. Then I realized she thought I was joking, or confused, or maybe

---

both. I guess she thought maybe I didn’t know what gay meant.
“I’m gay,” I said, not sure how else to say it.
“You’re fifteen,” she said. “You can’t be gay.”
“Sure he can,” Amanda said. She sounded all excited, like this was her
big chance to show off something she knew that my mother didn’t. “My
friend Katrina from dance class’s brother is gay and he’s fifteen.” She
looked at me. “Hey, maybe I can set you guys up. Evan is really cute.”
“Jeff,” my mother said, using the tone she gets when she’s about to
explain something to you, “you’re too young to know if you’re gay or not.”
“Do you care if I am?” I asked her.
“Of course I care,” she said. “I mean, I don’t care, but I care about you,
and if you were gay, then I’d be okay with it.”
“Well, I am,” I said. “So I hope you’re really okay with it and not just
saying that.”
My father still hadn’t said anything. He had this look on his face like he
was trying to figure out a joke someone had told him and that he knew
should be funny but didn’t understand why.
“Dad?” I said. “Are you all right?”
“What?” he said. Then he shook his head, like he was trying to clear it.
“So, this gay thing,” he said. “Is that why you, well, you know.” He waved
his hands in the air, like he couldn’t think of the words he needed.
I shook my head. “Not really,” I said. “It’s part of it, but it’s not
everything.”
“I think we have a lot to talk about,” Cat Poop said, saving me. “I know
you all probably have questions for Jeff, and I know there are things he
wants to tell you. So let’s just start at the beginning and go from there.”
And that’s what we did. For about four hours. I can’t even remember
everything we talked about. There was some yelling, a little crying, and
finally a big family hug, which is a miracle all on its own. By the time my
parents left, I think they were starting to understand that this isn’t just some
phase I’m going through or something I’m doing to get back at them. They
don’t get it all yet. Then again, neither do I.

---

Day 44
I had a dream about Sadie last night. She and I were walking on a beach,
talking about whatever we wanted and having a good time. Then, all of a
sudden, she ran into the ocean. I thought she was playing, so I followed her.
She was laughing and kept looking back to see if I was behind her.
She started swimming, and I swam after her. She swam way out, and I
was afraid we were going too far. I kept calling for her to slow down, but
she wouldn’t.
I couldn’t keep up with her, so I stopped swimming and let her get
ahead. Finally she stopped and turned around. She called for me to come
out to where she was, and I did. When I got there, she said, “Catch me if
you can!” and dived down.
I watched her swim beneath me. The water was clear, and I could see
her kicking her legs hard and going deeper and deeper, down to where the
water turned dark blue. Her hair was floating out around her head, and
silver bubbles were coming from her mouth. I took a deep breath and dived
after her, trying to catch her.
She turned in the water and waved at me, trying to get me to come
deeper. My chest was starting to burn because I was running out of air, and I
pointed to the surface to tell her we should go up. She shook her head, and I
saw her laugh underwater. Millions of bubbles shot out of her mouth and
surrounded me like a net. I couldn’t see. Then I felt a hand grab my foot and
pull me down.
I tried to swim up, but that hand was strong. It was Sadie’s hand.
Through the bubbles I saw her dragging me into the dark water. She was
laughing and laughing. I realized that she wanted to keep going, and she
wanted to take me with her.
I kicked as hard as I could, trying to get her hand off my foot. I just
kicked and kicked while I clawed at the water. Finally I got free and started
to shoot toward the surface. I could see the light shining down, and I
reached for it.

---

I looked down once more and saw Sadie looking up at me. Her face got
smaller and smaller as I flew up through the water. She wasn’t smiling
anymore. She was just watching me. Watching me leave her under the
water.
I woke up when my head broke through the waves. I was gasping, and
my chest felt like it was on fire. I looked all around my room, almost
expecting to see that I was on a beach and soaking wet.
I don’t know what the dream means. I don’t know why Sadie wanted to
try to drown me. I don’t know why she laughed at me like she did. I’m just
glad I got away from her.

---

Day 45
One of the best T-shirts I ever saw said, i was happy once, but i’m better
now.
I’m going home today. Most people would say that they were “happy”
about that. And I guess I am. I mean I am.
I said good-bye to Martha and Juliet. Martha’s staying. For a few more
weeks, anyway. Then she’s going to live with her aunt. She still isn’t saying
much. I think they’re keeping her on the Wonder Drug. Poor kid. She
definitely got a bad deal.
Juliet is leaving next week. It turns out her parents are super religious.
Juliet told me they think she’s possessed by demons. Seriously. They
believe in that kind of stuff. They want her to let the people at their church
do some kind of healing ritual for her. She says she’s thinking about it. It’s
weird, but I used to think she was the craziest one in here. Now she seems
kind of normal. I don’t know if she’s gotten less crazy or I’ve gotten more
crazy. Probably it’s a little of both.
Oh, yeah, then there’s Squirrel. I still don’t get him. Juliet said she’ll
find out what his story is and let me know. She won’t, though. She’ll forget
about me as soon as she’s out of here. Maybe even as soon as I walk out the
door. She doesn’t want to remember, and I can’t blame her. She’ll probably
convince herself we were all ghosts, or a dream.
I wonder how many of us there are all over the world, how many kids in
how many hospitals. How many Alices and Bones and Juliets and Rankins.
How many Sadies and Marthas and Squirrels. How many Jeffs. And I
wonder how many of us get out. I wonder how many of us are “happy.”
I had my last session with Cat Poop—I mean, Dr. Katzrupus—this
morning. Only it turns out it wasn’t my last one. I’ll be seeing him once a
week. At least for a while. I’m okay with that.
He said that I have to remember that even though I’ve changed a lot in
here, I’m going back to a world that hasn’t changed. That’s going to be the
hardest part, I think, seeing all the people who were in my life before. They
don’t know what’s happened to me. They’re going to expect to have the

---

same old Jeff back. But I’m not the same old Jeff. I hope they’re ready for
that. I hope I’m ready for that.
I’m still kind of a mess. But I think we all are. No one’s got it all
together. I don’t think you ever do get it totally together. Probably if you did
manage to do it you’d spontaneously combust. I think that’s a law of nature.
If you ever manage to become perfect, you have to die instantly before you
ruin things for everyone else.
It kind of feels like the last night of summer camp. For a couple of years
I went to this place called Camp Mikigwani. For the two weeks I was there
I hated everything about it, the swimming, the campfire sing-alongs, the
stupid crafts, the other kids. Everything. Then, the night before my parents
came to pick me up, I’d start to wish I could stay for another two weeks.
One summer I even asked my parents if I could. They said yes, and for
about three seconds I was really happy. But as soon as they drove away, I
started hating the place again and was miserable for another two weeks.