“Alex?” he says as the blind flies up, and then Nanette watches his face fall in disappointment. He opens the window nonetheless, and Nanette climbs through.
“Have you heard from him?” Oliver asks.
Nanette shakes her head and says, “You?”
“Not a word.”
“Pretty boys leaving you alone?” Nanette uses the term pretty boys only because she doesn’t know how else to refer to Oliver’s tormentors.
“Yeah. We all had to go to these meetings where we sat in a circle and shared our feelings with the school psychologist, and now the pretty boys are being overly nice to me.”
“That’s good, right?”
“I don’t know. Every day, the pretty boys ask how I’m doing and if anyone is messing around with me—as if anyone else would torture me. It’s kind of weird and I think I liked it better when they were just mean to me all the time, as strange as that sounds. Their being nice is like eternally having a boa constrictor around your neck and pretending that it will never choke you to death. Maybe it’s like the school psychologist is feeding the boa live rats to keep it full, and so if he ever stops . . . I really don’t know.”
Nanette nods and lets Oliver finish.
“The school psychologist, Dr. Fricke, also brings me into his office once a week for a solo visit, and it’s always during science class, which I like the best. Why should I have to miss my favorite class just because I am a victim? It’s like they win twice.”
Nanette nods again.
“Dr. Fricke asks me a lot of questions that seem pointless, like ‘Do you miss your father?’ and ‘Is your mother taking care of you?’ and ‘Are you ever sad?’ I tell him I want to be in science class because I like that period best, but he says he has a strict schedule, which makes me think that he really doesn’t care all that much about my feelings despite what he keeps saying.”
Nanette is surprised that Oliver is just picking up where they left off without her having to explain where she’s been or apologize for blowing him off, but she’s grateful, too. She doesn’t want to rehash everything. And she wasn’t planning on asking for forgiveness, either, especially since she didn’t do anything wrong. She instead tells young Oliver all about June and the roundabout-yet-helpful conversations she has in the fourteenth-floor office high in the Philadelphia sky and how Nanette is now living in third person, which she actually enjoys.
“What about school?” Oliver asks. So she explains her concept of ghost floating, and how speaking in third person keeps everyone at bay by freaking them out. And Oliver says, “Yeah, that’s me, too. Same strategy. Although I call it Mr. Invisible. And no third person.”
Nanette says that she was recently forced to attend a pep rally for the basketball teams—that the whole school shut down and gathered in the gym so that everyone could worship the few students who were best at dribbling balls and throwing them through a hoop. She asks Oliver how that came to be—how did high schools all over the country decide that athletes needed pep rallies to boost their pride and self-esteem? Isn’t it enough that people actually pay money to see these kids compete in games? That people cheer from the sidelines? And they get their names in the paper? Why don’t they take all the lonely ghost floaters in every high school and have a pep rally for them? Make all the most popular kids in school sit on the hard bleachers and cheer until their asses hurt like hell?
“Here is Nanette O’Hare, who used to play for the girls’ soccer team but now does nothing because she is depressed and seeing a therapist. Let’s give her a big round of applause! Lend her some of your pep because she really needs it! Band members, please begin to play a corny orchestral version of a popular rap song while Nanette stands at the center of the gym and waves to all the people who are not depressed! Let’s really pep her up! Pep the fuck out of her!”
Oliver laughs but in a sad, uncomfortable sort of way, and Nanette realizes that she is being self-piteous, if that is even a word.
“So what have you been up to?” Oliver asks. “Have you been hanging out with Booker?”
“He’s not returning Nanette’s phone calls at the present moment, which has lasted for months. Won’t let Nanette into his house, either. He pretends he’s not home whenever she goes.”
“Why?”
“Because of Alex. His punching that dad really freaked Booker out. Apparently other kids who have read The Bubblegum Reaper have reacted violently before. It’s somewhat of a trend.”
“But you and I haven’t reacted violently,” Oliver says. “And we’ve read the book hundreds of times. I bet most people who read the book don’t react violently. It’s just that we don’t ever hear about those people, because they are law-abiding citizens, maybe.”
“That’s true,” Nanette says, and thinks about how Oliver seems wise beyond his years.
“So why is Booker punishing the nonviolent people who really get the book?”
“June, Nanette’s therapist, says he’s self-sabotaging, like Alex did. It means they do things to ensure that they fail so they don’t have to deal with the consequences and responsibilities of success. Nanette’s starting to think that Booker’s kind of fucked in the head, truth be told. Just like Wrigley.”
Oliver makes a sad face, and Nanette can’t tell if he’s disappointed that she’s saying “fuck” so much or if he’s sad for Booker, who is fucked up in the head. Then Oliver says, “Have you gone back to Sandra Tackett’s?”