Freeze Frame by Heidi Ayarbe Read Free Book Online

had done? I needed to edit that day. It didn’t matter about Jase and the guys. We didn’t have to hang out anymore. I just needed to go back and edit that one day—one scene. Scene Three.
    But how could I edit what I couldn’t remember?
    Mom and Dad rushed over to me. “We’ll get you home Thursday.”
    Mark was waiting for me outside the holding room. “Let’s go,” he said. “Back to Dr. Matthews.”

10
    I walked to Dr. Matthews’s office. She had a stack of pictures on top of the small desk. A guitar leaned against some boxes in the corner. “Hi, Kyle.”
    â€œHi.”
    She smiled and motioned me to sit at the other end of the couch.
    Then we had one of those weird silences that Jason told me happen a lot on first dates. Dr. Matthews wasn’t a date, of course, but just sitting with her like that on the couch made me as nervous as hell.
    â€œI like your couch.”
    She smiled. “I’ve had it since my college days.”
    â€œA long time, then, huh?”
    She raised her eyebrows.
    â€œSorry, Dr. Matthews. I, um, didn’t mean it like that.”
    She laughed. “Pretty long, actually.”
    I nodded. I wondered if she’d ever changed the upholstery or anything, because it looked pretty ratty. I picked at a loose string and unraveled part of a faded purple flower.
    â€œCan you tell me what happened last Saturday?”
    â€œAgain?”
    â€œThis time, I want you to close your eyes and talk about everything you remember—the color of your clothes, the smell of the grass—everything.”
    I closed my eyes. The images came back to me in flashes—like I was looking at film negatives—and ended with the red-black pool of blood and the blue of Jason’s lips. All I could smell was the burn. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes and shook my head. I gave her the abbreviated version—like a movie preview.
    â€œJason and I were cold. We went to the shed. Now Jason’s dead. End of story.”
    She laced her fingers together and sighed. I traced a bumpy leaf with my finger. I wished she’d say something; instead we sat there in that cramped office, listening to the ticks of the kitchen timer.
    â€œKyle, this is a place where you can say anything that’s on your mind.”
    I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. My lip quivered and I took a deep breath.
    â€œOr nothing, too. That’s okay.”
    Nothing. That was better.
    Dr. Matthews looked at the time. She stood up and stretched a little. “I still want you to take your medication. It will help you feel better.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œI’ll see you tomorrow, Kyle.”
    â€œSure, um, see you tomorrow.”
    Mark wasn’t waiting for me in the hall that time. Some guy in a brown uniform took me back to my room. “Where’s Mark?”
    â€œHe’ll be here tomorrow. Some of the kids are going to play checkers and Parcheesi in the common room. You game?”
    â€œNo, thanks, sir.” I couldn’t imagine playing Parcheesi with Colander.
    I counted the bricks that lined the cell door until it got too dark to see. The next couple of days were gray. Everything seemed blurred, like in those old 8 mm home movies Mom and Dad had from when they were kids, the ones I had found in the shed. No sound. Just the snap of the film spinning around the reel.
    Â 
    When I was little, Dad once showed me his record collection. We sat and listened to music in the den. The sound was crackly, and one record got stuck. Just when I thought the song would continue, it moved back to the same spot.
    â€œIt’s scratched here, you see?” Dad shook his head and pulled the needle off the black disc. He showed me the record, and I ran my fingers across smooth vinyl and felt a hairlike scratch. It didn’t feel like anything big at all, but it was because of that tiny little mark that