Chapter Six: The Pillow
After a two day absence Tre returns to school with a note from Dr. Petrone. Unwin ignores him when he raise his hand. Remembering the advice from the Assistant Principal, he opens his arms to address the entire class. “They’ll be no dancing today,” he says.
Tre rises from his seat and says, “I have to go to the nurse.”
“Why? What's wrong?” Unwin asks.
“It’s private. My grandmother gave me a note to give her.”
Unwin reads it, then scribbles a pass and places the note back on Tre’s desk. Jonathan grabs the note and reads it aloud before Tre picks it up. He laughs and whispers, “Tre’s on meds. Tre’s on meds. ” Tre rips it out of his hand and goes to the nurse. She reads the note and tells Tre to sit while she calls his Grandmother.
“Hello, this is Ms. Olmert, the school nurse, I’m sitting here with Tre. I just want to confirm as per Dr. Petrone’s note, that I will administer 10mg of Ritalin to Tre each day at lunchtime and that I am to call you to report any side effects or changes in his behavior so Dr. Petrone can adjust the prescription as necessary.” Is that your understanding?” she asks.
“He needs to sit down and do his work in school. I can’t take no more foolishness. You may call me anytime. I’m not playing.” Ms. Olmert hangs up and Tre looks at the white tablet before popping it in his mouth.
“What will this do to me?” he asks the nurse.
“ Make you calmer and help you concentrate,” she says, concealing her doubts.
“It looks like the pills my grandmother takes everyday for her blood pressure,” he says as two younger students push into the small, brightly lit room.
“Now go back to class and do the right thing. Here’s a pass,” she says as Tre shuffles out the door then swivels back in to scoop it out of her hand.
“Thank you,” he says and skips down the hall.
“How do I know you were at the nurse?” Unwin asks.
“Tre’s on med’s,” Jonathan taunts him.
“Shut up,” Tre says pushing Jonathans chair.
“I was at the nurse,” he says defiantly and hands Unwin the pass back to class before circling round his chair and sitting in the wrong seat.
“That’s not your seat,” a student complains.
“Oops, my bad,” he laughs and gets up, twirling round again and taking his proper place.
Hamper stands motionless in front of the room utterly bewildered by the boy’s defiant charm. HIs tomato red face abates to a salmon color as he runs his fingers through his thinning hair.
“Continue reading,” he says to the seated dancers.
The silent reading period continues uneventfully until Tre’s pencil falls on the floor and he leaves it there. Convinced he is clowning around again when he places his head on his desk, Unwin directs him to, “sit up straight and pick it up.” There is no response. “Excuse me, pick your head up. I won’t ask you again,” he repeats, as the boy lies sound asleep at his desk.
“He’s dead.,” someone says giggling.
“He’s playing.”
“He’s sleeping.”
No one is sure what to do.
“I can hear him breathing. He’s not dead,” Jonathan says.
Unwin shakes him by the shoulder and tries to raise his head. Tre hangs like a rag doll in Unwin’s hands. “Call the nurse,” he says to Jonathan as he places Tre’s jacket under his head for a pillow.
The lunch bell rings and an intercom message crackles in the background as a group of students gathered around their sleeping friend.
“Shh, he’s sleeping, a girl says.”
“Tre never sleeps,” Jonathan says, “He’s on drugs.”