Highly Illogical Behavior - John Corey Whaley Page 0,3

still managed to get A’s and B’s. There, he’d perfected the art of invisibility. But, at home, he laughed and joked around with his parents. He even listened to music too loud sometimes and sang made-up songs while he helped do dishes or set the table.

He was still in therapy when he had his meltdown at school, and so Jason and Valerie decided to try a new therapist—one who charged twice as much. Solomon went and, like always, said nothing. But he listened. He listened very well and as soon as his first session was over, he’d figured out a way to quit seeing this therapist, too. And he wouldn’t even have to lie about it.

“She thinks you guys are abusing me or something.”

“She said that?” his dad asked.

“Didn’t have to,” he answered. “Asked me all about your work schedules and whether or not you guys fight or yell. She’s out for blood. I’m not going back.”

And he didn’t. Who were they to argue against it, either? When he was home, he was better. He was calm and happy and easy to get along with. The panic attacks were few and far between, and even though they’d never admit it, it actually made their lives much easier. No parent-teacher conferences, no driving him to school in the mornings and picking him up in the afternoons. At just thirteen years old, he needed very little from his parents and even less from the world. He wasn’t bored or lonely or sad. He was safe. He could breathe. He could relax.

Solomon never had a lot of friends in school, just kids he’d say hi to or trade homework answers with from time to time. But, somehow he’d always end up having lunch with this kid named Grant Larsen. Grant was that sort to constantly talk about hot girls and action movies and which teachers he hated most. That is, when he wasn’t bragging about his dad’s “cool job” for an electric car company.

“Then why don’t you guys have one?” Solomon would ask him.

“We don’t have any way to charge it at home yet. But, soon, man. Real soon.”

Grant didn’t mind so much that Solomon never talked about girls or bragged about his dad’s cool job. He just liked being listened to and that happened to be one of Solomon’s strong suits. He’d nod and respond with one or two word answers. It was the only way he could sit there surrounded by hundreds of loud kids without freaking out. He would focus on Grant and keep quiet. Any more attention than that, and he risked having a panic attack right there in front of everyone. Like the one that eventually sealed his fate as the crazy kid.

To his credit, Grant did come to see Solomon after the fountain. But, at home, Solomon wasn’t the muted listener he’d been at school. He was himself. And that was someone who Grant didn’t seem to like very much.

“You want to play a game or something?” Solomon asked one day, just a few weeks after leaving school.

“What kind? You got a PlayStation?”

“Oh. No. I suck at video games. I meant a card game or something. You like strategy games?”

“Are you asking me to play Dungeons and Dragons? Because hell no. I’d like to not die a virgin.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Tell that to my uncle Eric. Plays those nerdy games with all his nerdy friends all the time and my mom says he’ll probably be alone forever.”

“She sounds nice,” Solomon said under his breath.

“Don’t be a dick, I’m just trying to say it’s a little lame.”

It wasn’t lame. Not even a little. And it didn’t take long for Solomon to realize that he didn’t need a friend. Which worked out well, because after a few months and a few more failed attempts at hanging out, Grant eventually stopped coming over altogether. His parents asked him a few times what Grant was up to, why he’d been so busy, and Solomon just shrugged it off and said he didn’t know. He knew. He was busy boring someone new to death.

See, Solomon’s world wasn’t lonely like you’d think. It wasn’t dark and sad. It was small, sure, but it was comfortable. Why would it need to be anything but that? He knew his parents worried, though, and that was really the only thing that bothered him. What he wished, more than anything, was to be able to explain to them how much better it was now. But judging