“You’re going to want to stand back,” I tell Yolo. He wanders away to a sunny patch of sidewalk, still keeping an eye on me. “Nice work,” I say. “I think you’re out of range.” I raise the bat, thinking that I should probably be wearing goggles to smash windows. Shouldn’t I? Oh well. I have a good swing, from practicing with Jack all those summers, and I know from that time he accidentally let his bat fly into our backyard window that the glass will mostly shatter in.
I assume my stance, imagine Jack is there to coach me.Arm up. Back leg strong. Use your body.
It takes me three tries to break the window. Yolo comes over to investigate, stepping gracefully.
“Hold on,” I tell him. A few shards remain in the frame, jagged as icebergs. I take off my T-shirt and wrap it around my hand to break them away. Then I reach down for Yolo. He hates being picked up but lets me lift him and step inside. Then he’s done, jumping out of my arms and hurrying deeper into the main office.
“This way,” I tell him, pulling my T-shirt back on. But then, my eyes adjusting to the light inside, I realize something.
“You’re a genius, Yolo,” I say.“Security cameras.”They’ve got to be in the main office somewhere, right? “I take it back. You are the best thing I could have wished for. I’m a lot smarter with you around.”
Yolo gives amehof agreement.
“Where do you think the footage is?” I ask. He’s already sniffing behind the secretary’s desk.
“It won’t be there,” I say. “Mrs. Collins is too normal.”
As if he knows what I’m thinking, Yolo turns his head to look at the principal’s office, its door standing open. It must have been left that way when the Vanishing/Rapture/Whatever occurred. The nameplate on the wall readsMR. WOLVERSON, PRINCIPAL.
Yolo and I step inside.
The principal’s leather chair is tucked in at his desk. The blinds are closed. A Lithia High School football jersey hangs on the wall, as well as a picture of Principal Wolverson shaking hands with the mayor at the dedication of the remodeled auditorium two years ago. There’s a candy dish on top of his desk, full of fun-size Milky Way bars. TV monitors hang on the wall facing the desk, and a bank of floor-to-ceiling cupboards lines the south wall. From within them come humming, electronic sounds.
I shudder.
“We’re definitely in the right spot.” Yolo cocks his head at me.
I’ve never been in here before, and it creeps me out. None of the female students like our principal. We call him “the Wolvermolester,” and I get out of the way when I see his potbelly and bald head swaying and shining down the hall. He always likes to hug the cross-country girls after a good race. The cheerleaders after a pep rally. The girls’ basketball team after a game.
Men aren’t supposed to be able to get away with that kind of thing anymore.
They usually do.
Of course his office is absolutely and certainly where all the security equipment would be.
“All right,” I tell Yolo. “Into the breach.”
35.
Therapist:I’d like you to close your eyes and imagine a safe place.
What does it look like?
Sound like?
Feel like?
Is there anyone you would like to invite to your safe place?
Okay. I see that doesn’t feel right to you yet.
That’s all right.
It’s okay for the answer to benoornot yet.
36.
now
