I have to say that my psychologist, Doctor Ben Layton, is pretty patient with me. I've been here at Rolling Acres for four months, which seems like four years, but, hey, who's counting? He's a youngish man, maybe in his mid-thirties. Tall and thin, and it looks like his hobby is running races from all the framed photos scattered around on the wall of his office and his desk. I don't see any family photos, so I'm guessing that he's single. Or divorced. It happens. Based on my experience, anyway. I've never in my life seen a happy marriage, starting with my parents, who are dead, so I guess I'll never know. The car accident did them in, along with my wimpy brother. My sister survived and lives with my aunt, and neither of them wants to have anything to do with me, so that's my sad family story.

Except it's not sad. Not to me anyway. They, meaning the police and other authorities, say I might have had something to do with the car crash, but they'll never know. That's between Ankad and me.

Ankad. I want to tell you about him. He's my best friend. We've been buddies since way back before I could even talk. I'd fallen out of my crib and cracked my head on the table on the way down. When I came to, ta-da! He was there!

I'll never forget that first meeting.

Bro, he said to me. Quit your friggin' crying. Crying is for babies. What are you? A baby?

Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, I was. I was like a year old at the time. But what he said made sense. I didn't want to be a crybaby.

No, I said, wiping tears away, as I lay there on the cold linoleum floor in my onesie with superheroes like Spiderman on it. No, I'm not a baby.

Although I didn't really say it, obviously. I was just a little kid. But I thought it, and that was the point. By thinking about my words, Ankad and I could communicate with each other.

Good, He said. He helped me to my feet. I was a little wobbly, so I held onto the bars of my crib. He introduced himself and said, By the way, I'm Ankad. I come from outer space. Do you want to be friends?

Remember that I was only one year old. My world revolved around being fed and playing with my toy ball and stuffed frog. But hey, he seemed nice. Plus, I had no friends. The only other kids I knew were my wimpy brother and my sister, and they weren't exactly my buddies. Thanks, I said. Yeah, I want to be your friend.

Ankad nodded and smiled. Cool. And he gave me the first high-five of my life.

And that's how it started.

Ankad was with me all the time. We communicated through our minds without speaking, which I later found out was called telepathy. It was very cool.

I was a strange kid, prone to periods of quiet moodiness, mixed with sudden outbursts of anger and violence. My violent tendencies were of special concern to my mom. She kept anything breakable out of my reach until I got old enough, like four or so, to reach high things. Then she just quit buying breakables. We had a lot of plastic in our house.

Even though Ankad and I were buddies, Mom kept foisting other kids from the trailer park on me. Like Davey. He came over once when I was about five and showed me his new baseball bat. We were playing in the front yard of the single-wide where I lived. He was nice enough to teach me how to swing it. I caught on quickly. I took a few sissy swings (what Ankad called them) and then took a mighty one. A huge swing like I was going to smash that ball all the way over our make-believe fence for a home run. How was I to know Davey was standing so close behind me?

Later, Davey told my mom and his mom that I did it on purpose. Well…truth be told, I kind of did. Me and Ankad. It was his suggestion.

Go for it, Bro, he suggested when I started thinking about using Davey's head for a baseball. What have you got to lose?

As usual, Ankad had a good point. Regarding Davey and the bat, it turned out that I didn't have much to lose.

I never saw Davey after that except at school, where he gave me a wide berth. Can't say I blamed him.

School.

Yeah, a bit of a joke as far as I was concerned. Preschool was where I first learned that I just didn't like other kids. I mean, Ankad was my buddy. He and I were on the same wavelength. At home, if I felt like throwing a rock through a window, he was all for it. Go for it, Bro, he'd say. At school, if I felt like carving my name in my desk, he agreed. Great idea, Corey, he'd say. Or that one time I felt like sticking a pencil in Cora Levendowski's neck (she sat in front of me), he thought it was brilliant. Do it! He encouraged me.

So, I did.

School was like that until after the car accident that killed my parents and my wimpy brother and resulted in my sister moving away. I'd say that was the defining moment of my life. I was seven at the time.

After the crash, and because my aunt didn't want to have anything to do with me, I went into what they call The System. I went through a series of foster homes. Four of them. One, two, three, and four. My foster parents tried to cope with me. I know they did. But, hey, by then Ankad and me realized we didn't need anyone. I kept acting out both in school and at whatever foster home I was in until finally I was moved to Rolling Acres, where I am now. As I said, I've been here for four months. I'm fifteen.

Doctor Layton sees me almost every day. We talk. Mostly him. I listen.

He's trying to engage me (what he calls it) and wants to hear what I'm thinking about.

Well, he asked for it.

Here's what I told him yesterday. "I'm thinking about that picture," I said, pointing to one hanging on the wall behind him.

He turned to look. "Yeah, that's a nice one," he said. "That's me at Grandma's Marathon." He turned back to me. "It was my best race."

In the photo, about 20" by 30", framed and under glass, he was crossing the finish line. He was all smiling and pumping his fist in the air.

"Nice picture," I said.

"Thank you."

I continued with my thoughts. "I'm thinking of busting that picture over your head and taking the glass and cutting your ugly face and watching your blood pour onto the floor."

I sat back and grinned. Next to me, Ankad said, Good one, Bro.

Doctor Ben (what I call him sometimes) just smiled. "My goodness, Corey," he said. "That's quite the imagination you have."

I looked at Ankad and grinned. He likes our imagination! We gave each other high fives.

I looked at Doctor Ben. "Thanks," I said. He didn't know the half of it.

Ankad and I smiled at each other. The stupid doctor had no idea what was in store for him.

Doctor Ben apparently didn't take my words seriously, just like so many other people who I'd met in my life. He simply closed his notebook and looked at the clock on the wall. "Okay, Corey," he said. "Great talking to you. Good work today. But our time is up. I'll see you tomorrow."

I got the hint and stood up. "Right. Okay. Cool," I said. "See you tomorrow." I glanced at Ankad and winked. We both knew what I was thinking. I had a feeling Doctor Ben's days were numbered.

So did Ankad.

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