Gregory: Dr. Ist, why are you here? Is everything okay?

Dr. Ist: Good morning, Gregory. Yes, everything’s fine, except that the entirety of the third floor flooded overnight.

Gregory: How?

Dr. Ist: One of the pipes was apparently corroded. The plumbers are upstairs now, working on sealing it. I’m sorry, this is the best makeshift office I could come up with.

Gregory: This actually looks cool. Can I hang my jacket on the rack?

Dr. Ist: Go ahead. And there’s water for you on the table.

Gregory: Thanks. But what about the people coming in and out?

Dr. Ist: Today is Saturday; no one’s coming in.

Gregory: Oh, sorry. I forgot.

Dr. Ist: How are you?

Gregory: Trying to get used to Silver Lace.

Dr. Ist: It’s a big city, isn’t it?

Gregory: Yep. Definitely not Forsythia.

Dr. Ist: Have your parents found a new school for you yet?

Gregory: No. I was finishing the fourth grade when we moved here. I’m supposed to be in the fifth now, but I can’t get accepted into any local public school.

Dr. Ist: Why?

Gregory: They don’t have room for any more students. Mom’s friend recommended this private school that has one available seat, but it’s in the eighth grade.

Dr. Ist: The eighth grade?

Gregory: Mhm.

Dr. Ist: How are you going to adapt to such an abrupt jump between grades, Gregory?

Gregory: Some of the teachers have agreed to fill me in on parts of last year’s curriculum.

Dr. Ist: Still, even the seventh grade is too rough of a jump.

Gregory: Dr. Ist, to be honest, I’m rarely present in any class . . . Especially math, geometry, and all the science classes.

Dr. Ist: Do you mean you skip class?

Gregory: No, I mean I sit in the backest back, where my teachers won’t even notice if I’m missing. I can hardly see the chalkboard, let alone what’s on it.

Dr. Ist: How do you get any grades? Do they ever test you?

Gregory: I try to avoid being tested as much as I can. I also try to memorize some homework by glancing over it the night before so that I can tell a biology teacher the parts of a flower and a math teacher the sum of a few sadly separated numbers.

Dr. Ist: Why do you say “sadly”?

Gregory: Well, I think they all reside together until we break them up to then add them up again. Nonstop.

Dr. Ist: Mhm. Why do you think we do that?

Gregory: To torture kids.

Dr. Ist: Do you think those who love math learned it through torture?

Gregory: I don’t know how it is for them. I know I can’t stand it. I can’t stand geometry and lines that cross other lines that form shapes that cross other shapes. Every shape has a name, every line has a name and a number next to it. I have to study all of them to get a pass from my geometry teacher. Why? I don’t want to study something I don’t care about.

Dr. Ist: But math is ubiquitous in this world, don’t you think?

Gregory: What does ubiquitous mean?

Dr. Ist: It’s everywhere.

Gregory. Oh, sure. Like when I’m passing through a doorway, I have to touch both sides of the frame?

Dr. Ist: Can you pass through by only touching one side?

Gregory: No. I’d have to go back and redo it until I’ve touched both sides.

Dr. Ist: That’s math and geometry. That’s your mind recognizing the importance of the relationship between two parallel lines. Like creating a pattern that unlocks your ability to cross the threshold.

Gregory: Okay. But I still don’t care about what it is as long as I can touch both sides.

Dr. Ist: I understand.

Gregory: I also can’t stand my handwriting. Maybe this is one of the reasons why I don’t like geometry.

Dr. Ist: Why can’t you stand your handwriting?

Gregory: I can’t draw a straight line, let alone write aligned letters.

Dr. Ist: Is part of the reason why you try to avoid being tested that you’re embarrassed by your handwriting?

Gregory: That too.

Dr. Ist: What else?

Gregory: These chairs are so squeaky.

Dr. Ist: They are. I’m sorry. Although I’m surprised you can pick up the sounds of the chairs over the commotion the plumbers are making upstairs.

Gregory: I listen to a lot of music, maybe that’s why I can pick up low noises.

Dr. Ist: Do you mean low-frequency sounds?

Gregory: Yes.

Dr. Ist: The squeaking would actually be considered a high-frequency sound.

Gregory: Oh, yeah?

Dr. Ist: Yep. Would you please answer my question regarding avoiding being tested in school?

Gregory: I don’t want kids making fun of me. I’m afraid of failing in front of them. I don’t want them to call me dumb.

Dr. Ist: Do you think you’re dumb?

Gregory: No. I don’t think so. But what they think of me matters. No one cares about what I know when I’m alone.

Dr. Ist: Well, we all have to present ourselves to the world so the world knows who they’re dealing with, right?

Gregory: I guess. I only wish the world could accept people that don’t want to present themselves the way . . . umm, the way—

Dr. Ist: The way established by the norms?

Gregory: Yes. I’m not stupid. I just can’t prove it to the world.

Dr. Ist: Gregory, you practically live outside. Your mom told me that you only come home when you’re hungry, want to watch a movie, or to sleep. What is it that bothers you within the walls of the school besides your fear of failing in front of your schoolmates? What makes your schoolmates different from the neighborhood kids?

Gregory: There’s a lot of competition there. But it’s not the kids as much as I don’t want to learn what they’re teaching me and . . . And I don’t like to be around people that watch me. I don’t want to answer any questions the teachers ask me while other kids are watching.

Dr. Ist: I see. Maybe this new place—the private school you’re talking about—will put less pressure on you when it comes to answering questions because, guess what?

Gregory: What?

Dr. Ist: You’re not supposed to know what they know! You’ll have skipped years of the education they received. You can’t possibly know all of the material they’ve been taught. So if you put a little effort into learning something, it will come as a big surprise to the teachers and your new classmates because no one expects you to be on their level in terms of knowledge.

Gregory: Yeah . . . Yeah, okay.

Dr. Ist: Right?

Gregory: I think so. Yeah.

Dr. Ist: How many kids are there in each class?

Gregory: Ten or twelve. I’m not sure.

Dr. Ist: Oh, isn’t it more manageable then?

Gregory: Actually no, because this way, I’m more visible to everyone, including the teachers.

Dr. Ist: That’s true. I didn’t think of that. But let’s hope you’ll find this environment more suitable for your peace of mind.

Gregory: I hope so.

Dr. Ist: Are there any other physical requirements your mind has come up with recently besides touching both sides of a door frame before walking in or out?

Gregory: Let me think . . . hmm, no, I think . . . Well, my sleeves have to be aligned when I roll them up.

Dr. Ist: Do you notice a pattern in how you have to touch both sides of the door frame and how both sides of your sleeves need to align?

Gregory: Geometry?

Dr. Ist: Mhm. By the way, why can’t you see what’s on the chalkboard when sitting in the backest back?

Gregory: I just can’t see. It’s all blurry.

Dr. Ist: Have you had your vision checked?

Gregory: No. And please don’t tell Mom or Dad about this.

Dr. Ist: Why?

Gregory: It’s not cool to wear glasses. Kids will make fun of me if I do.

Dr. Ist: Are you considered a cool kid among your peers?

Gregory: I don’t know. Maybe. I have this cool walk that makes me seem like a tough kid, you know?

Dr. Ist: Mhm.

Gregory: Like “Don’t you dare to mess with me!”

Dr. Ist: Any other cool or tough attributes you’ve acquired lately?

Gregory: Well, I have this tough look, too. I look at the kids I don’t know outside of my neighborhood as if I’m seconds away from putting them underground . . . again, like “I dare you to come at me!”

Dr. Ist: Do you get into fights?

Gregory: There’s no avoiding fighting sometimes. I don’t pick on anyone, but when they pick on me, I do fight back. It’s how it is in the streets, you know.

Dr. Ist: Sure. But please be careful. It’s better to—

Gregory: The look and the walk help me avoid a lot of fights though. The problem is that sometimes I walk past my friends and look at them this way, because I don’t see who it is, and they call me out, confused . . . Like they’re not sure what happened between us.

Dr. Ist: Hm.

Gregory: I’ve also noticed how adult men and older teenage boys fidget with big bunches of keys in an intimidating manner while they’re standing in the neighborhood with their friends.

Dr. Ist: Do you think that’s part of their threatening arsenal?

Gregory: Yes. Maybe they think it looks like they’ve got a knife or something. They also look at passersby with one eyebrow raised, spit on the ground all the time, like soccer players, and scratch their private areas as if they’re . . . as if . . . what’s the word when someone makes pizza dough?

Dr. Ist: Knead?

Gregory: Yes! As if they’re kneading pizza dough.

Dr. Ist: Hm.

Gregory: They usually keep the hand that scratches that area there for some time, too. I don’t know why. Dr. Ist, do you think I’ll be doing the same things when I’m older?

Dr. Ist: I doubt it, Gregory. Do you see it here too? Have you made any new friends?

Gregory: I’ve only been here a couple of months. It’s a much bigger city and it seems that things are quite different here. But just in case, I’ll keep walking and looking at boys that way for now.

Dr. Ist: I’m certain you’ll make friends in no time. Some look at the world around them and think it’s overwhelmingly big, others are bored and underwhelmed by their small world.

Gregory: What do you mean?

Dr. Ist: The city might be big, but your neighborhood is the same size as any other. Don’t let the visual vastness of this place overwhelm you.

Gregory: It’s not only that it’s big, but it’s also mostly gray. Large gray buildings under large gray clouds.

Dr. Ist: Notice the warm yellow glow pouring onto the streets from those gray buildings when you’re outside. It’s like there are little pockets of light that remind you of the sun in its absence.

Gregory: Okay, I will.

Dr. Ist: Good. Anything else you’d like us to discuss today?

Gregory: You know, because of my terrible handwriting, I can’t even draw a straight line.

Dr. Ist: Gregory, don’t worry, I take note of every word you say.

Gregory: Oh, I already said it, huh?

Dr. Ist: Yes, but continue, please.

Gregory: I’d love to be able to draw, but even when I try to draw a simple face with two dots for the eyes and half a circle for the mouth, I . . . for some reason it looks like Jerry’s exploded face from Tom and Jerry.

Dr. Ist: Well, then drawing is perhaps not your vocation.

Gregory: Vocation?

Dr. Ist: It’s not—

Gregory: Oh, you mean like a skill or profession?

Dr. Ist: Yes. Although, with some training, you might get better at it.

Gregory: I doubt it. Can I tell you . . .? I have something with me. I have something with me to show you.

Dr. Ist: What is it?

Gregory: I did this yesterday. I made it yesterday. I don’t know how. I woke up, found some pencils and a blank piece of paper, and drew this.

Dr. Ist: Can I see it?

Gregory: Here. It’s folded though. Let me unfold. Here:

Dr. Ist: Gregory, do you remember if you had a particular dream the night before? Or maybe . . . Why did you decide to draw this?

Gregory: I don’t really know how, or why. I don’t even remember drawing it. I just did.

Dr. Ist: Did you use a ruler?

Gregory: Yes.

Dr. Ist: Is it Earth in the center?

Gregory: Maybe. I wasn’t watching anything like that on television though.

Dr. Ist: Did you make several attempts before you made this version?

Gregory: No, and I don’t know how . . . I usually waste a lot of paper when I try to draw that face I told you about.

Dr. Ist: Mhm. So you drew this in one sitting?

Gregory: Yes. I will never draw again though. I don’t want to . . . I don’t want to write either.

Dr. Ist: It’s okay, Gregory. You don’t have to if it stresses you. But writing is important. Try not to concentrate on the lines—notice the patterns that words and meanings help to create. Like poetry.

Gregory: I’ll try.

Dr. Ist: Can we talk about this drawing again, some other time?

Gregory: Yes. Can I ask you a question?

Dr. Ist: Sure.

Gregory: That back door.

Dr. Ist: Mhm.

Gregory: What’s on the other side? I can’t see anything from the outside because of other buildings surrounding this building.

Dr. Ist: It’s where . . . I go home through that door.

Gregory: Is it where your motorcycle is parked?

Dr. Ist: Yes.

Gregory: Can I see it?

Dr. Ist: The motorcycle?

Gregory: The other side of the building?

Dr. Ist: Why?

Gregory: I like exploring new places. Like when we go to stay at a hotel, I wonder what’s on the levels below the first floor. I make little movies in my head thinking about going there.

Dr. Ist: Maybe one day I’ll show you where I come from.

Gregory: Like take me to your home on your motorcycle?

Dr. Ist: Would you like that?

Gregory: Yes!

Dr. Ist: Sure!

Gregory: Sometimes I can hear the engine from the other side of the building, you know.

Dr. Ist: It is very loud, isn’t it?

Gregory: Yep, it is. I like it though.

Dr. Ist: Do you like motorcycles too?

Gregory: Cars and motorcycles. I used to have a lot of toy cars and motorcycles.

Dr. Ist: What happened to them?

Gregory: I gave them all to one of the kids in our building before we came here. He’s like six or something. Mom told me that he was adopted, but he doesn’t know about it. I had all the toys that I used to make movies with in my red checkered suitcase. Very heavy. I gave it to him that last day. Before we drove to the airport.

Dr. Ist: It sounds like you miss your toys.

Gregory: I’m not a child anymore, Dr. Ist. I was playing with them when I was five or six.

Dr. Ist: But you can still miss them, right?

Gregory: Maybe.

Dr. Ist: Mhm. I think this is our time for today. I’ll go see if the plumbers were able to repair the faulty pipe.

Gregory: I hope I’ll see you upstairs next time.

Dr. Ist: I apologize for this again, Gregory.

Gregory: No worries. I like it here, too.