I don't want to go to my next class, anyway. Before I exploded, I wanted like anything to get out, but now I don't want to leave. It feels safe here. It feels like the only safe place on the planet, so I take my time cleaning up. It's weird. My body hurts as if I threw myself against a wall over and over. All my muscles feel sore and so does my throat. I know I made a total ass of myself, but for some reason I feel okay about that. CRAZY GLUE: At least nobody called you crazy. But maybe that's 'cause they don't know everything. AUNT BEE: They don't know about us. I'm on my knees cleaning up my lunch mess and Dr. Gomez is picking up the stuff I swiped off her desk. She keeps reassuring me that my outburst, as she calls it, was a normal reaction. "Good for you," she keeps saying. "Good for you, Jason. It's perfectly natural to be angry with your mother for dying. Everybody who loses someone special goes through that. It's just part of the grieving process." She's got all the papers I knocked off her desk in her arms and she sets them on the desk, adjusting them until they're back in a neat little stack.
