Sophmore Year, Wasaga Beach

Living with his parents was good, but they weren't taking any chances. They got him into therapy. Sean would go and sit there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes staring straight ahead.

It's okay if you don't want to talk, Sean. The therapist would say, his voice and his manner mild, and Sean would shrug. He didn't want to talk.

Week after week, the same thing. The little room and the knick knacks and the plants hanging over the windowsill and the beach outside. Sean would sit with his arms crossed, not talking.

We don't have to talk about what happened at school. We can talk about other things. He would say. Sean would shrug. Maybe. He'd say. Maybe next week.

Next week would come and the same room, the same mild man looking at him, and Sean uncrossed his arms and glanced over at him sometimes.

Is there anything else you want to discuss? Anything? This time is to help you, Sean. Sean wouldn't say anything or shrug, but one week he did mention something.

Okay, yeah. There is one thing that's bothering me, I guess. I used to have this friend and then I didn't, he just sort of stopped talking to me, or I stopped talking to him.

Stupid, it was stupid to talk about these things. What did it matter anyway?

You grew apart? He said. Sean blinked, crossed his arms.

No, we didn't. That's why it kind of bothers me. It looked like we were becoming pretty good friends and then all of a sudden we just never talked to each other anymore.

No point to any of this at all.

When did you meet him?

Sean looked over toward the window, out at the beach and the sand.

I was in eighth grade, he was in ninth.

Beach birds out there in the sand, seagulls and scavengers.

Did anything happen, anything unusual or very emotional?

Sean looked at him quick, this mild man with the liquid movements and how did he know? It was like seeing a psychic.

Well, yeah, kinda. I'd only known him for like three days and he plays chicken with a train for real. If I hadn't been there to pull him off the tracks I think he might have, well, you know.

You think he would have let the train hit him?

Sean swallowed, licked his lips. He hadn't thought about this in a while. It was better to think about than Rick and the whole Rick thing. It was easier.

Yeah. I think he would have.

Why? Why do you think he would have done that?

Probably because he wanted to run away because his father was beating him and when the train came along it just seemed like an easy way out.

You saved him.

I guess.

The birds on the beach had found some fries and were squaking and fighting over them. Sean smiled a little.

It's the classic hedgehog's dilemma. He said.

What the heck is the hedgehog's dilemma? Sean said.