Free Ashes by Estevan Vega Page A

answers. Just questions. Forget you!”
    â€œIt will return. For now, let’s continue with what we left off with last time. Perhaps you recall that I am helping you with not only your mental state but also your completion of high school requirements,” Carraway continued. “We’ll work on all your basic studies. There’s no reason why you can’t gain an education during this process.”
    What was all this? Rehabilitation and mental guidance? High school requirements? It was too much to soak in all at once. Arson wanted to fight it so badly, but for the moment, he decided to keep quiet, to go along with whatever sick joke this happened to be.  
    The doctor walked to the back of the room, where only a chalkboard hung, and began writing out a quadratic equation. “This is quite basic. I want you to come up here and solve this.”
    The last thing Arson wanted to do was solve an equation. His entire mind was an equation. “That seems complicated. Don’t think I was good at math. I would’ve remembered.”
    â€œVery funny. But that’s nonsense. You might surprise yourself.” Dr. Carraway held the piece of chalk out, waiting for Arson to meet him.
    Reluctantly, Arson got up and started by scribbling fractions and equal signs, hoping for some spark of genius to hit. But it wasn’t happening.
    â€œGet all of the variables on one side first. Then check to see if it is in proper form. Once it is, factor out the greatest common factor and deal with the remaining numbers.” The doctor dragged his fingers across the slate board, one hand still in his pants pocket. “Once you solve for x , plug in the answer and check your work. This is junior-year stuff, Stephen. As I am aware, you passed algebra II with flying colors.”
    It sounded so simple coming out of somebody else’s mouth. But there didn’t seem to be any answers at all, only questions and equations with no values. Primes and confusion. No absolutes. Another twenty minutes were spent toying with diagrams and complicated theorems that Dr. Carraway assured him had been covered in previous sessions.
    â€œHave you completed the written assignment for today’s session, Stephen?” the doctor asked once they switched to English.
    â€œWritten assignment?”
    â€œYes, it was a writing prompt. I asked you to write about your dreams. What you recall specifically. Your grandmother, for instance, or your high school prom.”
    Arson shrugged. “I didn’t go to prom.”
    â€œSo you remember? Good. That’s very good.”
    Wait, how did he remember that? He thought back to that night, tried to remember what he did instead, but it was all hazy. Was he working? Hanging out with friends?
    No, I don’t have any…except her .  
    â€œYou look slightly nonplussed. That means confused, in case you didn’t know. Should be one of the vocabulary words I had you look into. But I’m guessing you didn’t complete that assignment, either.” Dr. Carraway sighed, making notes. “Stephen, how do you expect to heal if you aren’t doing your part? There’s no reason your education should stop simply because you’re in here getting better.”
    â€œWait, stop this crap. Since when are you a teacher anyway, Doc? Just who are you!”
    â€œCalm down, Stephen. I told you, I am your psychologist. I am also quite qualified to guide you through your basic studies. In addition to counseling you, I am your teacher, for the time being.”
    â€œAnd how long is that going to be?”
    â€œWell, I suppose that’s up to you. The overseers of this institution pay a lot of money to invest in the minds of those who need it. Play ball and they might let you go early. Your eighteenth birthday is approaching.”
    â€œWait. What month is it?”
    â€œDecember. It’ll be Christmas in a few weeks.”
    â€œHow is that