Perfect Fifths_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [57]
“So they’re all aspiring writers?”
“Some are. Other Girls are encouraged to come because they’re considered high-risk and can benefit from narrative therapy.”
“All girls? You keep saying ‘girls.’”
“A habit. The program isn’t exclusive to girls, but, like, the vast majority of the participants are girls. As a former teenage boy, why do you think that’s the case?”
“I don’t know. Because teenage boys are idiots? As you pointed out earlier, I would have joined because the vast majority of the participants were girls.”
“Of course you would have! Which would have done wonders for your … What did you call it again? Your ‘poet/addict mystique’?”
“You forgot ‘manwhore.’ But yes, it would have been great for that, only if I didn’t actually participate. I would have needed to show up at every single session for ten weeks but never say or do or contribute anything.”
“Right! But then on the very last day, you would have raised your hand. And the room would’ve fallen silent, all eyes and ears on you. And you would’ve opened your mouth and uttered something totally random and absurd. Something like … ‘Blame Byron!’”
“Something exactly like that.”
[Pause.]
“So how does your psychology background factor in to all this?”
“It’s therapeutic creativity. Risk prevention through personal expression.”
“Ah, yes, arts and crafts are a crucial component of any rehabilitation program. You should have seen the set of Super Mario Brothers statues I made out of Popsicle sticks.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It wasn’t easy, because we had to use this special nonintoxicating glue substitute that didn’t stick together very well. I suffered for my art.”
“I didn’t even know you played Super Mario Brothers.”
“I didn’t. But others did. I knew I could trade them for contraband cigarettes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really, Jessica. Why do you find this so hard to believe?”
“I don’t find it hard to believe your stories. Your stories are very credible. I just find it hard to believe that I’ve never heard them before.”
“I guess the subject of Super Mario Brothers never came up.”
“I guess not.”
[Pause.]
“So, risk prevention?”
“Oh, right. So, humans are, uh, uniquely adapted for narrative constructions. Studies indicate that we begin to see ourselves as characters in our own life stories in adolescence, with key periods serving as different chapters. The most dramatic events are presented as the key scenes to the overall plot, the high points and low points of one’s life story. You remember the inscription to the journal you gave me? You said, ‘The tales we tell ourselves about ourselves make us who we are.’”
“I did?”
“You did. So you understand the concept. But storytelling not only defines who we already are, it also has the power to determine who we will be.”
“Interesting.”
“When faced with major decisions, adults turn to their personal historical narratives as a guide. Teenagers, however, have far fewer volumes to choose from in their autobiographical library—they haven’t lived through as much success and failure and … ugh.”
“What?”
“I’m taking this right from the Do Better High School Storytellers mission statement. I hate when I catch myself sounding like a PowerPoint presentation, like I’ve forgotten how to think and speak for myself.”
“It’s okay, go on. I want to hear about this.”
“Basically, we encourage teenagers to recount the past in a way that will help them make more informed choices in the future.”
“What do they write about?”
“Everything.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“Uh …”
“Not the whole thing, obviously. Just the gist.”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, if it violates some sort of ethical code of confidentiality …”
“It’s not that. It’s just. Uh. Well…”
“I don’t want to put you on the spot.”
“You’re not putting me on any … uh … spot. There’s no