Free Becoming Nicole: The Transformation of an American Family by Amy Ellis Nutt Page A

an operation?
    “Where did he learn that?” asked an incredulous Wayne.
    Kelly said, “I have no idea.”

CHAPTER 9
Wild in the Dark
UnnHappy, sad, mad, Unnspeakable blue red Unnsunshining and hot and cool and red hot and ice cold.
    —Wyatt Maines, diary, May 4, 2005
    B eginning around age seven, Wyatt’s moods seemed to fluctuate daily. On the cover of his second-grade “Secret Notebook,” he drew three suns, three clouds, and three smiling girls, all with long red hair, standing on a green hill that sprouted pink and yellow flowers. On the second page he drew a picture of himself with long hair standing beside his brother. Neither was smiling:
Dear Notebook,
    Sometimes when my brother does something bad to me, I punch him right in the guts!
    Under a picture of Wyatt hitting Jonas, Wyatt wrote:
Sometimes I punch my brother right in the center of his face with my fist.
    The notebooks and diaries Wyatt and Jonas created at Asa C. Adams Elementary School usually included only sporadic entries, but in this one there were also drawings—of Wyatt throwing off his covers in the middle of the night, getting up, and going “wild in the dark,” doing noisy gymnastics and pretending to be a vampire lady “and I bite my brother and scare his underpants right off!”
    On page seven:
I mean this. I hit things. I kick things. I trip on things. And I throw things. This is how I practice my karate.
    The final drawing in the notebook was actually a series of faces:
Sometimes I like to dress up as Daphany and Velma. My brother likes to dress up as Shaggy and his friends like to dress up as Scooby-Doo and Fred! I’d like to tell you more, but if I do, my brother might get mad and punch me!
    The notebook was a second-grade assignment that Wyatt had to show not only his teacher but his parents. All of them then wrote comments on the back page:
    Wyatt’s teacher: “Wyatt, I used to do the same kinds of things with my three sisters!”
    Kelly: “Wyatt, Your stories are getting so interesting. They’re like reading store-bought books! Love, Mom.”
    Wayne: “Wyatt, What a great story! I am glad you like karate. I hope you continue to work on your black belt!!! Love, Dad.”
    In truth, Kelly and Wayne were both concerned. Because Jonas was the more passive of the twins, he was used to absorbing the blows, both physical and verbal. Fighting was to be expected between siblings, especially at that age, and identical twins were no different in that regard. But when they were physical, Wyatt sometimes seemed like he wanted to pummel his brother. Both parents gave them time-outs, tried to teach them they needed to talk instead of yelling and fighting, and told them that if they couldn’t agree about something, they needed to come to them. Around this time Wyatt’s anger also turned inward. The first sign of worry for Kelly were little tics she saw him develop. She noticed that when Wyatt was lying on the couch watching TV or doing his homework, he would absentmindedly pull at his eyelashes and eyebrows, trying to pluck them out.
    “Wyatt, why are you doing that?” Kelly said one day.
    “I have to.”
    “What do you mean you have to?”
    “I mean I can’t stop.”
    On April 13, 2006, nine-year-old Wyatt had his first appointment with child psychologist Virginia Holmes. Her office was in Ellsworth, about thirty-five miles southeast of Orono. Holmes had come highly recommended by the twins’ pediatrician when Kelly told the doctor she thought Wyatt needed counseling. The weekly sessions were structured so that Kelly would talk to Holmes first and update the therapist about what was going on at home and at school. At first, Kelly and Wayne thought maybe Wyatt had attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, because he never seemed able to keep still. But his fidgeting, his constant restlessness, also seemed to point to a deeper anxiety, something perhaps even Wyatt couldn’t explain.
    Virginia Holmes wrote in her clinician’s