Knitting Under the Influence by Claire LaZebnik Read Free Book Online

Sari said. “It's complicated.”
    “Ellen said that we should really push forward, not waste any time. She said some kids do as much as forty hours a week and that you can make the most progress when they're young. She said—”
    “I know what Ellen says.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know there must be thousands of people who want your time and it's probably impossible to take care of us all. It's just… I want so much for him.”
    “I understand,” Sari said. “And we'll do the best we can for you. But—” She looked down at her hands. “You should be aware that it might not be me who works with Zack. It might be another therapist. Just so you know.”
    “I hope it's you,” Jason Smith said. “You seem so good at this. I think Zack likes you already. And we go back such a long way together, you and I.” She looked up again to find him smiling at her. “I won't hesitate to play the old friends card if there's a chance it might help.”
    “I’ll talk to Ellen,” Sari said. “We'll figure it out and get back to you before the end of the day.”
    As they said goodbye, Jason leaned forward and gave Sari a quick kiss on the cheek. Maybe, Sari thought, that was what you were supposed to do when you met someone from high school ten years later. “Sari Hill,” he said with a shake of his head. “An honest-to-God miracle worker. Who'd have thought?”
    Sari watched him take his son's hand and walk out the door with one last wave. She sank into a chair and let her head fall back.
    Even hand in hand with a small child, Jason Smith swaggered when he walked, just like he used to swagger a million years ago in high school—when he and his friends ridiculed and tortured Charlie on a daily basis.
    Sari tried to remember the details, but it was all pretty foggy. Funny how hard it was to remember the most painful periods of your life really clearly. Maybe there was a reason for that— maybe that way you protected yourself from reliving them.
    Jason Smith was one of a bunch of faces, a bunch of names. They all blurred. Had he ever led the charge against Charlie? Been one of the ones who called him retard and shoved him against the wall? Or was he one of the kids who just stood there and laughed while shit like that went down? Looking at his face—handsome as it was—had made Sari want to throw up, so she knew he'd done at least that.
    Some things your gut remembered better than your brain.
    Someone had pulled Charlie's pants down during recess, in front of a circle of cheering students. Had that been Jason? By the time a friend had found Sari to tell her, and she'd gone running to help him, it was too late. There was a teacher already there, but he hadn't seen anything, and in the end no one got in trouble because no one would say who did it. It could have been Jason. Or one of his rich asshole friends. It almost didn't matter. Whether you were the one who did the deed or just the one who stood by—applauding—and let it happen—what was the difference, really?
    Sari hugged her arms across her chest and rocked, feeling cold and hot at the same time.
    All the girls had crushes on him. You'd walk into the bathroom and see his name in a heart with someone else's, or two girls would be sitting perched on the edge of the sinks, talking and smoking, and you'd hear his name over and over again. Even Sari couldn't
not
look at him when he was in the same room. He was that handsome.
    He had kissed her on the cheek just now, had said that they were old friends, and she was supposed to—
    She was supposed to help his kid. Sari was supposed to help his kid just because Zack had a neurological disorder, and because that's what she
did.
She helped kids with autism learn to talk and behave and overcome the symptoms of their disorder. No matter
who
their parents were.
    Sari helped kids with autism get better, and it shouldn't matter to her that Zack's father and all his friends had tortured her brother and ruined her