“Therapy homework,” Tean corrected sourly.
“What do you have to do?”In a rush, Jem added, “You don’t have to tell me if it’s private.”
Tean gave another, smaller shrug.“I’ll tell you if you want to know.”
He paused like that had been a question, but when Jem didn’t say anything, he opened the notebook again.Tucked between blank pages was a photo of a small dark-haired boy in glasses.He wore a T-shirt and shorts and tennis shoes.Thin arms.Thin legs.Maybe at the start of middle school, Jem guessed.Maybe younger.
“Is that you?”Jem asked.
“That’s me.”
“Oh my God, you’re adorable.”
Tean made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh but wasn’t quite a scoff either.
Jem scooped up the wallet-sized photo.It fit in his palm, and he brought it closer to study it.Tean’s hair was straight and combed neatly to one side—none of the wild bushiness Jem was familiar with.The features of his face were a little softer.More boyish, which was probably an obvious thing to think, but it was true.The nose was a little finer.The cheeks were rounder.The eyebrows definitely weren’t the ones Jem knew.
“God,” Jem breathed.“You’re so young.”
“Fifth grade,” Tean said.“Ten.”
“You look so serious.”
Tean didn’t say anything, but when Jem glanced over, a smile razored across the doc’s mouth.
“I wish I could have gone to school with you,” Jem said.“I would have gotten you in trouble all the time.”
Tean’s smile softened.“Uh, thank you?”
“I would have made you break all the rules.”
“Well, maybe notallof them, because some rules are important.”
“Oh, all of them.We would have snuck out of class without a pass.We would have smoked on the playground—”
“No, definitely not.”
“—we would have touched the pencil machine.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Tean said.“But does that have another meaning I’m not aware of?”
For a moment, it was like the last few awful days had never happened.Jem fought to keep down the laughter, but he couldn’t help smiling.He raised the photo again and said, “I love him.When you’re done with your homework, I want to keep him.He’s mine.”
“Well, he’s me.And he’s a photo.And I have another thirty at home because I’m the oldest child, and for a while, my mom insisted on buying all those ridiculous school photo packages.”
“Nope.I want this one.No take-backs.”
“But I didn’t—” Tean managed to reel himself in.He scrubbed a hand through his hair, and something relaxed in his face.“How do you do this every time?”
“Do what?”Jem asked.But he tipped the photo onto the notebook.
Tean lined up the photo with the corner of the notebook and stared at it for a moment.“My assignment is to look at this picture and then write a letter to myself.At that age.Telling him—me—what I wish someone had told me when I was that age.”
Jem didn’t say anything at first.Tean had turned down the gas fire, and now it was only the blue-green flicker of the pilot.Finally, he asked, “What are you going to tell him?”
“Join the circus,” Tean said dryly.And he closed the notebook.“How are you feeling today?Can I check your hands and feet?”
Jem almost said something so that the doorway, open so briefly, wouldn’t slam shut again.He could say,Open the notebook.OrWhat are you really going to say?Or maybe something easier, something that would be like rattling the handle on that invisible door.Maybe he could say,Can we talk about that a little more?
