Don't Make Me Smile by Barbara Park Read Free Book Online Page A

cheers me up a little.
    We drove for several miles. Finally, Dad pulled up in front of a small white building.
    â€œCome on,” he said, getting out of the truck. “There’s someone in here I’d like you to meet.”
    It didn’t look much like a restaurant. I was getting suspicious.
    My father and I went inside and headed down a long, narrow hall. When we were almost to the end, he stopped in front of one of the offices.
    â€œWell, this is the place,” he said.
    I looked at the sign on the door. It said:
DR. HENRY T. GIRARD
Child Psychologist
    A
shrink
? Oh no. Not a shrink! I couldn’t believe he’d brought me here.
    â€œWhy, Dad? Why did you
do
this? What a sneaky trick!” I said.
    I started to back up, but my father grabbed me by the arm.
    â€œJust talk to him one time, Charlie. That’s all I’m asking,” he said. “He can help you feel better. I know he can. If you don’t want to come back after today, you won’t have to.”
    Quickly, he pushed open the door. The secretary at the desk looked up and smiled.
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Hickle,” she said cheerfully. “This must be Charles.”
    My father nodded. “Is Dr. Girard ready to see him?”
    â€œYes. He can go right in,” she said. She pointed to a door across the room.
    Dad knocked twice, opened the door, and gave me a nudge. “I’ll be out here if you need me,” he said.
    Dr. Girard was sitting at his desk. He wasn’t very old for a doctor. When he stood up to greet me, I could see that he was wearing faded jeans and a sweater. I don’t know why, but that really surprised me. I didn’t think doctors were allowed to wear jeans to work.
    â€œHi, Charlie,” he said, smiling. “I’m Henry Girard.”
    I didn’t smile back. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even say hello. I just sort of stood therefeeling like a fool. I still couldn’t believe that I was talking to a child psychologist. It made me feel all weird inside. Like I was a nutcase or something.
    â€œPlease, sit down,” said Dr. Girard.
    I sat.
    He sat, too.
    â€œDo you know why your father brought you here today?” he asked.
    â€œNot unless you serve pancakes,” I said. “I thought he was taking me out to breakfast.”
    Dr. Girard laughed. “Sorry,” he said. “But I have a hard time just making cereal.”
    â€œYeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” I told him.
    â€œOh, believe me, Charlie,” he said. “There’s nothing here to be afraid of. Your dad just brought you here because he knows that you’re really unhappy right now. And he’s hoping that maybe I can help.”
    I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. I had never been a nutcase before.
    Dr. Girard sat down in his chair. “So do you want to tell me what’s going on at home?” he asked.
    â€œNo, not really,” I said.
    I wasn’t trying to be rude. It just felt weirdtalking to some strange man I didn’t even know. I mean, all your life your parents go around telling you not to talk to strangers. Then all of a sudden, they decide to get a divorce, and boom … they dump you in some strange guy’s office and they expect you to spill your guts out.
    I looked around some more. “Where’s the couch?” I said. “Aren’t crazy people supposed to lie down on a couch when they talk to you?”
    Dr. Girard laughed again. “Well, I don’t get many ‘crazy’ people in this office,” he said. “But you’re not the only one who thinks that you have to be ‘crazy’ to come here. At first, almost everyone I see thinks that.”
    I had to admit, the guy was trying to be understanding. But even so, he was still a stranger.
    â€œIt probably feels funny talking to a stranger about your problems, doesn’t it?” he said