Brain Child Page 0,62

he hesitantly offered Alex his hand. “I’m sorry about what I said back there. It’s just that … Aw, shit, Alex, you’re just different now, and I don’t know what to do. So I just get pissed off.”

Alex tried to figure out what he should say, but couldn’t remember being apologized to before. “That’s okay,” he finally replied. “I don’t know what to do either, most of the time.”

“But at least you don’t get pissed off about it, and if anybody has a right to get pissed, I guess you do.” Bob grinned, and Alex decided he’d chosen the right words.

“Maybe I will sometime,” he offered. “Maybe sometime I’ll get really pissed off.”

There was a moment of startled silence while his three friends wondered what his words meant. Then the four of them started home.

Marsh Lonsdale hung up the phone. “Well, that’s done,” he said, “even though I still don’t approve of it.”

“But, Marsh,” Ellen argued, “you talked to Raymond yourself.”

“I know,” Marsh replied, sighing. “But the whole idea of four kids getting off scot-free after going someplace they knew perfectly well they shouldn’t go, and lying about it to boot, just rubs me the wrong way.”

“Alex didn’t know he shouldn’t go to San Francisco—”

“But he knew he shouldn’t lie,” Marsh said, turning to Alex. “Didn’t you?” he demanded.

Alex shook his head. “But I know now,” he offered. “I won’t do it again.”

“And Alex is right,” Ellen added. “It isn’t fair for the other kids to be punished, and him not. And besides, if they hadn’t decided to break all the rules and go up to the City, Alex might not have had this breakthrough.”

Breakthrough, Marsh thought. Why was bursting into tears in a graveyard a breakthrough? And yet, when he’d talked to Torres that afternoon, the specialist had assured him that it was, even though Marsh had suggested that it might be simply a new symptom of the damage that still existed in Alex’s mind. Still, Marsh was not yet ready to accept Torres’s assessment. “And what if it’s not a breakthrough?” he asked, then held up his hand to forestall Ellen’s interruption. “Don’t. I know what Torres said. But I also know that I’ve never been to Mission Dolores, and I don’t think Alex has either. Did you ever take him up there?”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Ellen admitted. Then she sighed heavily. “Oh, all right, I know I didn’t. I’ve never been there either. But I think you might consider the possibility that Alex went there with someone else. His grandparents, for instance.”

“I’ve already called my parents,” Marsh told her. “Neither of them can remember ever taking Alex there.”

“All right, maybe it was my folks who took him there. For that matter, it could have been anybody.” She searched her mind, looking for something—anything—that might explain what had happened to Alex. Then she remembered. “One of his school classes went to San Francisco on a field trip once! Maybe they went to the mission. But if Alex remembers it, he remembers it. And I don’t see why you can’t simply accept that.”

“Because it just doesn’t make sense. Why, of all the places Alex has been—that we know he’s been—would he remember a place that as far as either one of us knows, he’s never been to at all? I’m sorry, but I just don’t think it adds up.” He turned back to Alex. “Are you sure you really remembered being there before?”

Alex nodded. “As soon as I saw it, I knew I’d seen it before.”

“That could have been déjà vu,” Marsh suggested. “That happens all the time to everyone. We’ve talked about it with Dr. Torres.”

“I know,” Alex agreed. “But this was different. When I went in, I didn’t even look around. I just went right into the cemetery, to the grave. And then I started crying.”

“All right,” Marsh said. He reached over and squeezed Alex’s shoulder. “I guess the fact that you cried is really what’s important anyway, isn’t it?”

Alex hesitated, then nodded. But what about the words he’d heard? Were they important too? Should he have told his parents about seeing the nuns and hearing the voices? No, he decided, not until he’d talked to Dr. Torres about it. “Is it okay if I go to bed now?” he asked, slipping away from his father’s touch.

Marsh glanced at the clock. It was only a quarter to ten, and he knew Alex was seldom in bed before eleven. “So early?”

“I’m gonna read for a while.”

He