Jersey sighs. “No, I guess not. I like to lick things that don’t taste that good sometimes.”
“Is that so?” asks the doctor, looking in Jersey’s ears and then checking his eyes. “Like what?”
“I licked cat food once.”
Mick looks at the ceiling, visibly controlling his laughter. I roll my eyes, knowing we’re about to get a list of all the times Jersey was left unsupervised. My mom leaves cat food out on the back porch for a couple strays. I wonder how many of these taste-tests happened while I was supposed to be watching him.
“Cat food’s okay. I wouldn’t recommend you eat it very often, but it won’t hurt you.” The doctor turns on his little flashlight and shows it to Jersey. “Open wide.”
Jersey opens his mouth and waits about two seconds before revealing more awful stuff. “I licked the floor in the kitchen. Mom said Sister has to make it so clean you can eat off it, so I did.”
I drop my head into my left hand, knowing he had to have licked some seriously gross crap that day since I never clean as well as my mom wants me to. Time to up my game in the floor-cleaning department, I guess.
“I don’t recommend any more floor-licking. Lots of germs on the floor being tracked in by dirty shoes,” says the doctor, banging Jersey’s knees with the little rubber hammer.
“My turn!” Jersey yells, startling all of us. He holds out his hand for the mallet.
“Just one time.” Doc Harper hands it over and waits. We all wait. Mick even stands still, not knowing what’s about to happen but obviously interested in finding out.
Jersey holds up the tiny hammer in front of his face and turns slowly around the room. “Who needs their flexes checked?”
“Reflexes,” I say. “It’s reflexes, not flexes.”
“Mickey Mouse!” He slides off the table and walks over to where Mick is standing. With one fell swoop, he leans down and hammers the shit out of the poor guy’s knee.
“Holy shii….” Mick says, leaning down and putting his hand on his leg.
“Ha! Your flexes are working!” Jersey yells, smiling as he returns to his former spot. He puts the hammer in the doctor’s waiting hand and gets back up on the exam table.
“We all good?” Doc Harper asks.
“Yeah. Mickey Mouse is very healthy.”
I cannot look at Mick. My stomach is burning with the pain of not laughing at him. He totally asked for it, offering to come to the doctor and lick chapstick all day. This’ll teach him to think before he acts all nice next time.
“Okay, now it’s time for the questions,” says the doctor, taking a clipboard in hand. “You ready?”
“I’m ready.” Jersey nods and focuses on the floor. “Go, team, go.”
“What day is it today?”
“It’s the day after Wednesday and the day before Friday which is Thursday. It’s Thursday all day long until midnight.”
“Very good. Who are the people in this room with you today?”
“Sister, Doc Harper Harper Harper, and Mickey Mouse.”
“Is Mickey Mouse a person or a cartoon?”
“Mickey Mouse is a cartoon in Disney and he’s a man over there in the corner and he likes my sister. I saw him looking at her with sparkling eyes.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper. I stare at the floor, knowing there’s no way I can stop this freight train. When Jersey gets on a roll, no one can stop him. No one who doesn’t want a giant tantrum on their hands can, anyway.
I can hear the doctor’s smile in his voice. “Sparkling, huh? Sounds serious. Tell me how old you are.”
“I’m twelve. I’m in the sixth grade. I’m very smart in a special way. I’m different, not less. Sister says I have half a brain.”
My face flames red. I have the slight urge to explain but I don’t bother. This will just go down in the records as me being a questionable influence, once again. I’m used to it.
“Uhhh … okay. And what are your plans for tomorrow?”
“I don’t know for sure about anything except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” the doctor asks.
“I’m not going to lick that chapstick or that floor anymore. I don’t want a rash.”
“Good idea.”
“What about other things?” Jersey asks.
I look up, not sure where this is going. Jersey has the doctor’s full attention too.
“What other things?” the doctor asks. “What do you mean?”