Robert doesn’t reach for it. He doesn’t see it. Monty looks to Robert’s counselor in an unspoken plea for help. The counselor comes forward, takes hold of Robert’s left hand, and gives it a gentle tap. Robert opens his palm. With one quick motion, Robert’s counselor removes the Juicy Fruit and places the pinecone in Robert’s palm.

Robert’s fingers wrap themselves around the pinecone and show that they comprehend the object they hold, even if his mind does not. His hand grasps with just the right tension: a solid hold, but not so hard as to bend a bristle. Then, while the face keeps staring at the invisible incubator—or the price sticker on a car it might buy—the hand draws the pinecone to the left ear and scratches across the bristles. Intently, Robert scratches and listens, and on tippy-toe allows himself to be led back to his cabinmates.

Margie beams. “He really likes it. Because it’s so pretty, that’s why.”

Her voice is strong. Even proud.

*   *   *

Because we showered early in the day, there’s time to relax before lights-out. Carole has gone across to wash her hair. Escaping the hot cubicle, Sue sits on Dolly’s footlocker and cuts her toenails. My ears follow the conversation around me, but my eyes drift toward Sue. Like a kitten, I tend to follow movement, even the small movements of a young woman bending a leg, holding a foot, methodically clipping, three snips per toe.

I stretch my legs on my bed.

“That was a pretty bizarre scene,” Sara says.

“What’s wrong with Wi-llie?”

“Well, I think, probably—” She seems to consider carefully, making a medical diagnosis. “He’s hideous!”

I sputter.

“You figured that out, huh?” She’s almost smirking. “Well, then, you know about as much as I do. His bones are messed up. And his meat. And his metabolism. Watch him: He eats three plates of food at each meal, and still he’s not much more than a skeleton. But ain’t he, far and away, the ugliest thing you ever saw?”

There’s no denying it.

“Ugly as sin,” she continues, “but really a great guy. The best.”