Big Bear

The headphones made Michael's head feel funny. Lopsided. Like he didn't know how to sit still anymore. But he did. He wasn't a baby. He was a big boy. Almost six and a half and getting bigger every day. His mom said he was her "big bear." But then how come this man in the long white coat kept calling him "little man"? Didn't he know?

On the other side of the glass, the man worked some machine and then looked in at Michael. The man's face had reflections on it. His face was lit up by the lights on his side of the glass. His face looked like a TV almost, with all the lights moving across it. Michael heard a "pip" in his headphones. Then nothing, then another pip, a higher one. That time he remembered to raise his hand. The man on the other side of the glass made a face like Michael had done something wrong. Another pip, hand goes up. Then nothing, then another pip, and the hand in the air.

The man leaned forward so his head almost bumped the glass. His voice was in the headphones. "Okay, little man, that's great! But remember what we said before? Only raise your hand when you hear a beep, right?" Michael nodded. "But I did hear beeps." The man leaned forward again. "Super. Okay, Michael, that's super. Just a little more to go."

The man looked mad. But Michael had done everything just like he said. Big Bear wasn't a bad bear. He didn't hit, and when you said he had to go to bed, he did. Every time. Another beep, higher. Michael didn't raise his hand because he thought he wasn't supposed to. Then another beep, higher, quieter, and Michael didn't raise his hand again, but he wanted to. When he heard another beep, quieter and higher than any of them so far, the faraway squeaks of faraway mice, he raised his hand. Halfway. The man's voice was in the headphones again. "Thank you. We're done. Please wait until we get you." He was mad.