America by E. R. Frank

Author:E. R. Frank
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

Now

“I WANT TO remind you that next Thursday will be the last session before our two-week break.”

“I want to work in the kitchen.”

“Hmm.”

“I want to cook.”

“Did you hear what I said, America?”

“Yeah, I heard you. You think I’m deaf or something?”

“You didn’t respond.”

“Because I don’t give a shit about your stupid vacation.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m trying to talk about the kitchen, here.”

“Okay.”

“I’m a good cook.”

“Really? How did you learn?”

“Huh?”

“How did you learn how to cook?”

“Time up yet?”

“You know we just started, America.”

“Boring.”

“Something about how you learned to cook is boring?”

“Ah, man.”

“You’re having feelings.”

“That’s right, man. I’m feeling that I hate you.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, man. I just hate you.”

“And you’re scared.”

“I hate you.”

“Something about my vacation, or learning to cook, or maybe both makes you angry and scared.”

“I hate you.”

* * *

“Brooklyn,” I go. His head whips up. “Brooklyn,” I go again. He wipes his eye with the back of his hand. “You’re dripping beans, man,” I go.

He looks at the mess on the counter. He puts down his spoon and peels off his gloves. “Break,” he yells, and walks away, banging through those swinging doors back there.

* * *

“This Thursday will be our final session before the two-week break.” I hang my head way back and check out those sand soldiers.

“What two-week break?” They fill up five whole shelves. Shooting and running and drumming and kicking and all kinds of fighting shit.

“Remember? I’m leaving for two weeks. We’ll miss four sessions. Another doctor will cover for me while I’m gone if you want to speak with someone about anything. Then I’ll be back, and we’ll continue as usual.”

“Since when?” I sit up.

“Since when, what?”

“Since when are you going away?”

“I first told you a month ago, America. And I’ve mentioned it periodically since then.”

“Bullshit.”

“I reminded you during our last session.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Hmm.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Two weeks.”

“So I don’t have to see your ass for two weeks?”

“That’s right.”

“Cool.”

* * *

I sit in group and get curious.

About my mother. I bet there’s a mess of stuff on her in my file. America’s mother was a real easy woman. Plus, America’s mother was proud she had sex with so many different kinds of people. By the time America’s mother gave birth to America, she knew his father could be just about any man in the entire country. She knew America might look like just about any kind of man she ever met. That’s how America’s mother thought up the name America.

* * *

I lie in my bed, and I get to wondering.

About Brooklyn. About what he’s on and how he got on it. Like if he drinks, or if he’s some kid crackhead. Like if he got arrested anytime, and if he gets flashes when he’s high. Or does drinking a whole lot of beers or Jim Beam, or something, keep his flashes all sealed out?

* * *

“You ever mess with alcohol?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Did you?”

“What do you imagine?”

“You always ask me that, man.”

“You sound aggravated.”

“You got that right.”

“What makes you aggravated?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone, man.

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