Free January First: A Child's Descent Into Madness and Her Father's Struggle to Save Her by Michael Schofield Page A

myself, and I know they won’t completely eliminate the sound of Bodhi’s crying, but they do dull the sound so it’s like he’s yards away.
    I slip them over Janni’s head, but she rips them off, slamming her hands over her ears.
    “Janni, I told you to wear the headphones!”
    “I can still hear him!” she wails.
    “But they will dull his crying,” I insist.
    “They don’t! I can still hear him!”
    “But not as loud.”
    Janni violently shakes her head. “It’s still the same!”
    I don’t get this. How can it be the same? It’s almost like the sound of Bodhi’s crying is inside her head.
•  •  •
    A FEW HOURS later it’s nighttime.
    “Her eyes are dilated and her heart is beating faster than ever,” Susan shouts to me from her bedroom. I’m on the couch by Bodhi, zoning out on TV.
    “You should go to bed,” I tell Susan. “I’ll stay up with her until she goes to sleep. You wanna watch Survivorman ?”
    “Yes,” Janni answers, and she snuggles beside me on the couch. This is one of our favorite shows.
    Susan and I make eye contact. “No more Ritalin,” she says.
    I nod. Another medication we can’t rely on. The second dose never kicked in. I drove all the way home, with my arm guarding Janni, while Susan shielded the screaming Bodhi with her body. It took us two hours to get home because of traffic. And now she can’t fall asleep. Her heart is racing.
    I put my hand on Janni’s chest. It’s still fast. From the moment it first begins to beat, the heart has an internal clock. Genetics has programmed a certain number of beats, and when that number is up, the heart will stop. The faster it goes, the closer to the end we get.
    I am terrified.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Valentine’s Day, 2008
    I t feels strange to be standing outside a public school, waiting for Janni to finish afternoon kindergarten. For so long we thought we’d be homeschooling Janni. Because of her high IQ, we knew she would be bored out of her mind with public school, but there is no way she would pass the entrance interview for Mirman and I have to work. Janni is still a danger to Bodhi, so we have no choice but to put her somewhere and this is our only option.
    “How was school?” Susan asks nervously as Janni comes out to greet us. We’re both on eggshells hoping today was better than yesterday, or any of the days since she started.
    “Fine,” Janni answers.
    “Janni,” the kindergarten teacher calls. “Don’t forget your backpack.”
    Janni runs to get her backpack and brings it over to where we are standing. She pulls out her red folder and removes a heart cut from redconstruction paper. “I made this for you.” She hands it to me, excited. I read it: “H APPY V ALENTINE’S D AY , F ROM 76.”
    “Thank you, Janni, I love it.”
    Janni smiles and runs off to the playground. Susan tells her that one of the girls from her class is at the playground, too. I watch, always hoping to see Janni playing with another child. But she never even looks at her classmate.
    “Do you have a minute?” the teacher calls to us.
    “You go in today,” Susan says under her breath to me. “I’m tired of talking to them. They don’t get it and I’m tired of explaining.”
    Susan wheels Bodhi’s stroller after Janni while I head for the classroom. I already know this is going to be about Janni’s behavior. It is always about Janni’s behavior.
    As I walk, I look at the other papers inside the red folder. On top is a small piece of white paper, Janni’s behavioral report for the day: Didn’t want to participate in activities. Screamed. Hit another child .
    I look underneath at her work for the day. Every sheet is either scribbled all over or ripped in two, both things Janni will do if she makes a mistake. Rather than just taking an eraser and erasing it like she’s supposed to, she acts like the mistake is written in stone. Some of the torn sheets are completely blank. When I look at the top of the sheet, I see why.