Suicide Notes

Problem with Nicole.
“Who’s inside you, Jeff?” Cat Poop asked.
I waited a while before I answered him. I wanted him to think I was
revealing some big secret that only he knew. Then I leaned forward. “A
ballerina,” I whispered.

---

“I’m sorry,” Cat Poop said. “A what?”
“A ballerina,” I said, a little bit louder. “There’s a ballerina inside of
me.”
He sat back in his chair and looked at me. I started talking really fast.
“Yeah, see, when I was five or six, my parents took me to see The
Nutcracker. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I closed my eyes, like I was remembering being at the ballet. I even
smiled a little. “The woman playing the Sugar Plum Fairy was wearing this
pretty costume,” I said. “I couldn’t stop watching her. I wanted to be her.”
I opened my eyes and looked at Cat Poop. “Later, I told my parents that
I wanted to be the Sugar Plum Fairy. They just laughed. But it’s true. I want
to be her.”
I leaned forward again. “She’s trapped inside me,” I said, really softly
like maybe she might be listening and would be mad that I was talking
about her. “She wants to come out.”
Good old Cat Poop tapped his pencil against the pad. “You’re telling me
that you hurt yourself because you want to be a ballerina,” he said. “Is that
right?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s all her fault. She made me do it. I’m possessed by the
Sugar Plum Fairy.” Just to prove it, I started humming this weird song that
was a little like the music they play when the Sugar Plum Fairy dances. I
mean, I have seen The Nutcracker. Hasn’t everybody?
Cat Poop didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did say
something, he sounded like he was trying really hard not to be angry. “Do
you think I’m stupid, Jeff?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “You can’t be stupid. You went to school
in Canada. I hear they have a way better education system than we do. Why,
do you feel stupid?”
“There are people here who want very much to feel better about
themselves,” he said, not answering the question. “It’s my job to help them
do that. It’s not my job to sit and listen to you make up a ridiculous story
because you don’t want to admit that you have a problem.”
I pretended to be shocked. “What do you mean?” I said. “I just told you
—the Sugar Plum Fairy has taken over my body. She tried to kill me! You
have to do something. Like an exorcism. Or a fairycism.”
“You’re wasting my time,” said Cat Poop. “We’re done for today.”

---

“What if she tries to make me hurt myself again?” I asked, all
concerned. “Or what if she makes me hurt someone else? I might start
pirouetting all over the lounge uncontrollably, and I don’t know what would
happen if I did that. It could be a Sugar Plum massacre.”
“Are you finished?” Cat Poop asked.
“That depends,” I told him, talking like my normal self again. “Are you
ready to let me go home now?”
“You’re here for the full forty-five days,” said Cat Poop. “You can waste
every single one of them if you want to, but you’re going to spend them
here.”
That made me angry. “I thought you said I was wasting your time,” I
snapped.
“You are,” he said. “You’re also wasting yours, as well as that of
someone else who would really like to be helped, who can’t be here because
you are. I want you to think about that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He looked down, and I knew that was my signal to leave. So I did. And
I was happy to get out of there. I couldn’t believe he was lecturing me about
wasting time when he’s the one keeping me in this place. All he has to do is
say I’m normal and I’ll be out of here. If a real whack-job wants my place
so badly, I’m perfectly happy to give it up. I’m tired of people thinking
they’re doing me favors.

---

Day 07
This morning I went into the lounge and found Sadie writing a letter. When
I asked who she was writing to, she said her best friend. “Don’t you have a
best friend?” she asked me. “You know, someone you tell everything to?”
“Not really,” I told her. “I’m not big into friends.”
Sadie looked at me funny, then noticed the clock. “I’ve got to go see
Katzrupus,” she said, folding up her letter. “See you later?”
“Sure,” I told her. “I’m just going to do some homework. Apparently
being imprisoned in the cuckoo house doesn’t get you out of learning about
the reproductive cycle of the frog.”
That was another lie. Not the part about homework, the part about not
having a best friend. I do, actually. Her name is Allie. I just didn’t feel like
talking about her with Sadie.
That’s right, her. Allie is a girl. I know it’s kind of weird for a guy to
have a girl best friend, but I do.
The first time I saw Allie was when Mrs. Pennyfall, the principal’s
secretary, walked her into our seventh grade social studies class. Allie
stared around the room like she wished she could set it on fire. The only
free desk was next to mine, so she had to take it. That whole class, she sat
there with her head down, drawing on the cover of her notebook. I kept
trying to see what she was drawing, but I didn’t want her to think I was
staring at her.
Eventually she moved the notebook over a little and I saw what she was
doing. The entire cover was covered in perfect little bats. They looked like
they were swarming out of the center of the notebook, spiraling around in a
big cloud. I couldn’t stop looking at them, and Allie noticed. She covered
the notebook with her social studies textbook.
After class, I followed her into the hall and told her how cool I thought
the bats were. She looked at me and said, “I really don’t need any friends,
okay? I have enough problems.”
“Whatever,” I told her. “But you do need someone to show you around.
Otherwise you might make the mistake of talking to the wrong people, and

---

then your entire social life will be a disaster.”
She looked at me for a moment and then laughed. That’s how it started.
We had lunch together, and the next day she sat by me in social studies
again. I found out she liked some of the things I like—sci-fi movies and
roller coasters and some other stuff—and I invited her over to watch Close