There's a Boy in the Girls' Bathroom by Louis Sachar
Bradley put his fingers to his chin and thought it over. “I know!” he said. “Just tell everybody that you tried to help me, but I wouldn’t let you. Tell them that I was too mean and nasty. That’s it. Tell them I said I’d spit on you.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t say that about you,” said Carla. “You’re too nice.”
“They’ll believe you,” he assured her.
“It doesn’t matter whether they believe me or not,” said Carla. “I’d know it was a lie.”
“So?”
“So when you tell a lie, the only person you’re lying to is yourself.”
He didn’t see anything wrong with that. If you’re only lying to yourself, and you know it’s a lie, then it doesn’t matter.
“I just wish I knew why a smart kid like you keeps failing.”
“It’s because Mrs. Ebbel doesn’t like me,” said Bradley.
“Shh!” said Carla. “Don’t talk about it!”
“Well, I can probably talk about school a little bit without dying,” he said.
“O-kay,” Carla said hesitatingly, “but as soon as you feel even a little bit like dying, let me know and we’ll stop.”
They talked about school for about fifteen minutes before Bradley felt like dying. Carla pointed out that the same questions that were on the tests were also on his homework assignments. She suggested that if he did his homework, the tests might be easy for him.
“The tests are easy,” he told her. “I could get a hundred if I wanted. I’m the oldest kid in the class. I answer all the questions wrong on purpose.”
“You want to know what I think?” asked Carla. “I think you would like to get good grades. I think that the only reason you say you want to fail is because you’re afraid to try. You’re afraid that even if you try, you’ll still fail.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” said Bradley.
“I think you’re afraid of yourself,” said Carla. “But you shouldn’t be. I have lots of confidence in you, Bradley. I know you’d do so well, if only you’d try. I can help you. We can help each other. We can try together.”
It was then that he told her he couldn’t talk about school anymore or else he’d die.
She thanked him for talking about it as much as he had. “You were very brave,” she said. She suggested that for their next meeting he make a list of topics to discuss so that they wouldn’t have to risk talking about school again.
“Is that homework?” he asked.
“No-o-o,” she assured him. “You don’t even have to put your name at the top.”
“Good,” said Bradley. He was glad it wasn’t homework.
It was time to return to class. “Thank you for sharing so much with me today,” Carla said to him. “I enjoyed your visit very much.” She held out her hand.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked out of her office.
22.
All week Bradley worked on his list of topics to discuss with Carla. It’s not homework, he kept telling himself. In fact, it’s the opposite of homework! Because if I think of some good topics, then we won’t have to talk about homework.
He didn’t scribble during class. He listened closely to what Mrs. Ebbel and the other kids said in order to get ideas for his list. He took it with him wherever he went. At recess, he kept his eyes and ears open, constantly on the lookout for a new topic.
The other kids were meaner to him than they’d ever been before. They were no longer afraid of him. They called him names, and when he didn’t do anything about it, they called him more names.
A fourth-grade boy who wanted to show off to his friends ran up to him and said, “You’re not even human! You’re a monster! You’re a monster from outer space!”
The boy ran away, but Bradley didn’t chase him. He added three new topics to his list: Humans, Monsters, and Outer Space.
Monday was Halloween. Most of the kids brought costumes, which they were allowed to put on at lunch. Brian, one of Jeff’s friends, didn’t bring a costume. So he borrowed a black Magic Marker from Mrs. Ebbel and colored a circle around one eye. When he came back from lunch, he told everyone he was a Bradley Chalkers.
While everyone laughed, Bradley busily worked on his list. It covered both sides of three sheets of paper.
Trees that lose their leaves
Gold stars
Chalk
Tape
Are chickens really afraid?
Why people laugh
What does it feel like to be shot in the leg?
Pencils
Pencil sharpeners
Accidents
Coffee
Military school
Canes
Basketball
Friends
Enemies
Hopscotch
Dodgeball
Four square
One potato
Two potato
Three potato
Four
Five potato
Six potato
Seven potato
More
Less
Nothing at all
What’s it like to be in jail?
Good boys
Bad boys
Breakfast
Lunch
Dinner
Have you ever been to the White House?
Who shot my father?
Why did he get away?
Peanut butter and jelly
Gold stars
Black eyes
Fighting
Girls with big mouths!
What’s it like inside a girls’ bathroom?
Saying hello
Reflexes
Hate
When will I be able to grow a beard?
Things that smell bad
Things you like about yourself
Things you don’t like about yourself
Things nobody likes about yourself
Things you don’t like about anybody else
Gold stars
Does my head look like a chili bowl?
Closets
Hiding places
Dreaming
Bad dreams
I wish I could fly.
Kids with glasses
Glasses you drink from
Why people like some people and hate other people
Breaking things
I wish I was invisible.
Cry babies
What happens to you when you grow old?
Humans
Monsters
Outer space
Why is Halloween a holiday?
Pirates
Princesses
Ghosts
What happens when you die?
What if you were never born?
Can someone else be you?
Can you be someone else?
If I was someone else, I wouldn’t make fun of me.
Magic
Markers
He didn’t go trick-or-treating that evening, though Ronnie and Bartholomew did. The other animals gave them lots of candy.
“I’m making a list of topics to talk about with my counselor,” he told them. “Do you have any ideas?”
“How about rabbits?” suggested Ronnie.
“That’s a good one,” said Bradley. He added “Rabbits” to his list.
“Bears,” said Bartholomew.
“That’s good too.”
Claudia barged into his room.
Bradley quickly shoved his list under the pillow on his bed.
“How about what Dad’s going to do to you when he finds out you’re flunking?” she asked. “That’s a good topic.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Bradley.
“The list.”
“What list?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Claudia. She slowly wandered toward the bed, then lunged for the pillow.
Bradley dived for it, too, but Claudia beat him to it. She held the list above her head and read it. As she looked at each new page, she cracked up
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“Your list!”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“This isn’t the kind of stuff you talk about with a counselor.”
“How do you know?”
“Chalk?” asked Claudia. “What can you say about chalk?”
“A lot!” he insisted.
Claudia laughed. “One potato! Two potato! Your counselor’s going to be mad when she sees this.”
“Give it to me!”
“Yes,” she answered as if he had asked a question.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. Your head looks like a chili bowl.” She laughed.
“Shut up!”
“ ‘Who shot my father?’ “ read Claudia. “How’s she going to know that?”
Bradley shrugged.
Claudia gave him back the list. “You wrote ‘Gold stars’ three times,” she said, shaking her head.
Bradley grabbed it from her hand and looked at what he’d written.
“That’s the stupidest list I’ve ever seen,” said Claudia. “Your counselor’s not going to want to talk about anything on that list.”
“You don’t know her,” he replied. “She’ll talk about anything I want to talk about. She listens to me. She likes me!”
“No she doesn’t,” scoffed Claudia. “That’s just her job!” She walked out of his room, laughing.
Bradley watched her go. Then he added two new topics to his list: Sisters and Jobs.
Tears filled his eyes as he tried to think of another topic. He crossed off two of the “Gold stars,” then crumpled the list into a ball and threw it in his trash basket.
23.
“Look out! Here comes the monster!” screamed a chubby fourth-grade boy. “It’s the monster from outer space!”
“Aaaah! It’s so ugly!” yelled his skinny friend.
“Don’t let it touch you!” warned a girl with pink glasses. “Or you’ll turn into a monster too.”
Bradley ran at them. They scattered and regrouped, like pigeons.
He sat down to eat his lunch.
“It sure is a stupid monster!” shouted a third-grader.
After lunch, Bradley sat at his desk—last seat, last row. He didn’t look at Jeff. He didn’t look the other way, either, at the chart full of gold stars. And he didn’t look straight ahead, at Mrs. Ebbel. He didn’t look anywhere.
It was time to see Carla again. He took the hall pass from Mrs. Ebbel and walked out of the classroom.
He hated Carla. He didn’t want to make the same mistake with her that he had made with Jeff. He realized Claudia was right. Carla didn’t like him. That was just her job.
She was waiting for him outside her door. “Hello, Bradley,” she said as she held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you today. I appreciate your coming to see me.”
He walked past her and sat down at the round table.
She sat across from him. She was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with two triangles on it, one red and one blue.
“Did you make a list of topics to discuss?” she asked.
“No, you’re the teacher.”
“So?”
“So you’re the one who has to say what we talk about, not me. That’s your job!”
“Well, let me think,” said Carla. “Are you sure you can’t think of anything?”
He shook his head.
“I’m surprised. I thought you would have come up with a lot of interesting topics. Well, in that case, we’ll have to talk about school. Shall we start with homework?”
“Monsters from outer space,” he replied.
“Hmm?”
“Monsters from outer space,” he repeated. “You said I could pick the topic. I want to talk about monsters from outer space!”
“What a wonderful topic!” said Carla.
“The only way to kill them is with a ray gun,” said Bradley. “Regular guns, or even hand grenades and atomic bombs, won’t kill them. You need a ray gun.” He stood up and pretended to shoot a ray gun, making a noise that sounded like a cross between a machine gun and a horse.
Carla put her hands up to protect herself. “Don’t shoot me,” she said.
“You’re a monster from outer space,” he told her.
“No I’m not. I’m a counselor.”
He stopped firing. “Do you believe in monsters from outer space?”
She shook her head. “No. But I do believe there are other types of creatures living in outer space. I just don’t believe in monsters. I believe that Earth is just one small planet in a gigantic universe. I think there are billions of other planets with trillions of other kinds of creatures living on them. Some are real stupid and others smarter than you or me. Some are bigger than dinosaurs; others, smaller than ants. But out of all those creatures, I don’t think there is even one monster.”
“Not even one?”
“No,” said Carla. “I think everyone has ‘good’ inside him. Everyone can feel happiness, and sadness and loneliness. But sometimes people think someone’s a monster. But that’s only because they can’t see the ‘good’ that’s there inside him. And then a terrible thing happens.”
“They kill him?”
“No, even worse. They call him a monster, and other people start calling him a monster, and everyone treats him like a monster, and then after a while, he starts believing it himself. He thinks he’s a monster too. So he acts like one. But he still isn’t a monster. He still has lots of good, buried deep inside him.”
“But what if he’s real ugly?” asked Bradley. “What if he has green skin, and only one eye in the middle of his face, and three arms, and two hands on each arm, and eight fingers on each hand?”
Carla laughed. “You and I might think that’s ugly,” she said, “but that’s just because it’s different from what we’re used to seeing. On that planet, that might be considered beautiful. You may have just described a handsome movie star.”
Bradley laughed.
“On that planet, they probably would think I was ugly, because I don’t have green skin and I have two eyes.”
Bradley shook his head. “No, they might think I was ugly, but not you.”
“Why, Bradley,” Carla said with astonishment, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”
He blushed. He hadn’t meant it the way it came out. “I don’t want to talk about monsters anymore,” he mumbled.
“Okay,” said Carla. “I think we had a very good conversation, don’t you? You picked an excellent topic.”
For the rest of the session, he colored. He took a green crayon out of Carla’s large box of crayons and tried to draw the creature from outer space that he had described. He was able to draw the three arms, and six hands, but he had trouble fitting eight fingers onto each hand.
He looked up. “Carla?”
“Yes, Bradley.”
“Can you see inside monsters?” he asked. “Can you see the ‘good’?”
“That’s all I see.”
He returned to his picture. He drew a black eye in the middle of the creature’s face. He drew a red heart inside the creature’s chest to show all the “good” that was there.
“Well, how does a monster stop being a monster?” he asked. “I mean, if everyone sees only a monster, and they keep treating him like a monster, how does he stop being a monster?”
“It isn’t easy,” Carla said. “I think, first, he has to realize for himself that he isn’t a monster. That, I think, is the first step. Until he knows he isn’t a monster, how is anybody else supposed to know?”
Bradley finished coloring and showed his picture to Carla. “He’s a movie star on his planet,” he said. “Everyone loves him.”
“He’s very handsome,” said Carla.
“You want it?” asked Bradley. “I mean, I don’t want it anyway, so you can have it.”
“I’d love it!” said Carla. “Thank you. In fact, I’m going to hang it
Bradley watched her tack it up. He almost told her she wasn’t allowed to put holes in the wall, but he changed his mind.
It was time for him to go back to class.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you next week,” said Carla. “I hope you have another wonderful topic for us to discuss.”
He started to go, then stopped and turned around.
“Yes?” she asked.
He put his hands on his hips and stared at her.
“Did you forget something?”
He stood and waited.
Her eyes suddenly lit up. She held out her hand and said, “I enjoyed your visit very much. Thank you for sharing so much with me.”
He stretched his mouth into a half smile/half frown, then hurried out of her office.
24.
“Here he comes,” said Lori. “Don’t be a chicken.”
Colleen bit her bottom lip.
It was after school. The three girls stood across the street and watched Jeff.
“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” said Colleen.
“Hey, Jeff!” Lori shouted.
“No,” Colleen whispered.
Jeff turned.
Lori and Melinda walked toward him. Colleen lagged behind.
“Hello, Jeff,” said Lori.
“Hi, Jeff,” said Melinda.
“Hello, hi,” answered Jeff.
Lori laughed.
“C’mon, Colleen,” said Melinda. “Ask him.”
Colleen blushed and looked away.
“Colleen has something she wants to ask you,” said Lori.
“Well, see, um, okay, well—” stammered Colleen.
“Quit bothering me,” Jeff said very quietly.
“We’re not bothering you,” said Lori. “Colleen just wants to ask you—”
Melinda stopped her. “Let Colleen ask him,” she said.
“Well, see,” said Colleen. “Okay.” She took a breath. “I’m having a … it’s my birth—”
“I don’t want her asking me anything!” Jeff snapped.
Colleen turned bright red.
“And quit saying hello to me too!”
“We can say hello if we want,” said Melinda. “It’s a free country.”
“I don’t want you saying it to me,” said Jeff.
“Don’t worry!” Colleen exploded. “I won’t!”
“I will,” said Lori. “Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello.”