“I’m walking you to class,” I said.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “This time I’m prepared for the worst.”
“You’re really brave, Frank,” I said. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s easier to be brave when you’re carrying a knife.”
“Get back in the car,” I said.
I PULLED OVER at a park. “Oh,” he said. “Are we going to the playground? I love it in the early morning, when the sand is freshly raked.”
“Give me the knife,” I said. I was expecting one of the big sharp knives from the kitchen or maybe the plastic machete, but what he had tucked into his argyle sock was an old-fashioned letter opener shaped like a sword in a battered green leather sheath embossed with gold. “Where did you get this?” I asked.
“From my mother’s desk. It belonged to my grandfather.”
“You were in your mother’s office? Doing what?”
“Looking for my mother.”
“Wasn’t she in there?”
“She was. Asleep on the floor.”
“I UNDERSTAND WHY you’re upset, Alice,” Dr. Abrams said. “But let’s look on the positive side of this. You have to admit it’s a feat of imagination for a nine-year-old to get himself rescued from a threatening situation by an ambulance. Really, it’s a kind of genius.”
“I’m not sure the ambulance was his idea,” I said. “Anyway, I’d prefer less genius and more judgment.”
“You say that now,” she said. “But you’ll be glad of it someday.”
“But I’m here now,” I said. “I won’t be around for someday.”
I had called Frank’s psychiatrist after I frisked him at the park. “I think it’s a good idea for you to talk to Dr. Abrams today,” I told him.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea at all. I don’t want to talk to anyone else,” Frank said. “I just want to talk to myself in the voice of a 1940s radio announcer. We are at the playground already, so I don’t see why you won’t let me do it.”
“You can do that all you want,” I said. “In the car.” I stuffed him inside the wagon and dialed the shrink. She picked up my call right away and I stood with my back to Frank while I outlined the situation. “I had a cancellation,” she said. “Bring him now.”
When I got there Dr. Abrams explained that I couldn’t come into the room with them since I wasn’t Frank’s parent. I’d already lied and said Mimi had asked me to bring Frank in, so I didn’t push it. They had a muffled, intense conversation that I couldn’t quite make out despite pressing my ear to the door. When they stopped talking I hopped into a chair and picked up a magazine. When Frank emerged I looked up at them both with a radiant, guilty smile.
“I have a couple of quick questions,” I said to Dr. Abrams. “Can I duck into your office for a minute while Frank waits out here?” That’s when we had our talk about genius vs. judgment. Also I asked if she thought Frank should go back to that school.
“I really can’t discuss Frank any further with you until I’ve talked to his mother. You understand,” she said.
“Of course,” I said.
I TOOK FRANK back to that playground and left a message for Paula in the office, asking her to call my cell when she could talk freely. I’d loaned Frank my sweater because I could see he was jonesing for a piece of clothing to cover his bare arms. He’d found a paper grocery bag somewhere and had turned it wrong side out and twisted and crumpled it into the shape of a top hat. To make it hold the shape he’d taken the lace out of one of his sneakers to use as a hatband. I had to give the kid props. He had a gift. But I also had to admit that this particular ensemble didn’t make him look 100 percent sane.
I was watching Frank pacing, one shoe flapping, giving 1940s radio announcer Walter Winchell a run for his money, when my phone howled. “I can keep an eye out for him, but I can only do so much,” Paula said. “I will tell you Dr. Matthews thinks Frank’s a nuisance and that he can’t possibly be that smart. He likes children who make high scores on standardized tests and smile a lot. He doesn’t like Frank.”
“He doesn’t understand Frank,” I said. “Frank’s light-years beyond smart.”
“I know, honey. But Dr. Matthews isn’t.”
“Mimi wants to know what do you think we should do.”
“Frank got off on the wrong foot with Dr. Matthews and Mimi didn’t kiss up to him in their conference. I don’t think you can get on his good side now,” Paula said. “If he doesn’t find an excuse for expelling Frank, he’ll drive him out some other way. He’s done it to a second-grader already, and let me tell you, Alice, it wasn’t pretty. It breaks my heart to say this because I’ll miss my little friend, but if Frank were my son I wouldn’t send him back here as long as that man is in charge. To be honest, I may not stick it out here much longer myself.”