The Mad That Wouldn't Leave

Otto woke up mad.

Not a little mad. Not a someone-ate-the-last-waffle mad. This was a big, heavy, sit-on-your-chest kind of mad. The kind that makes your eyebrows scrunch down and your fists go tight and your breath come out in hot little puffs.

The problem was, Otto couldn't remember why.

He lay in bed and thought about it. Had he had a bad dream? Maybe. Had someone done something terrible? He didn't think so. Had a monster stolen his favorite socks? His socks were right there on the floor, inside out, same as always.

But the mad was there. Sitting right in the middle of him like a big, grumpy toad that had made itself comfortable and was not planning to move.

"Fine," Otto said to the ceiling. "I'll just wait. It'll go away."

He got dressed. He went downstairs. His mom was making oatmeal and humming a song that was way, way too cheerful for a morning like this.

"Good morning, sunshine!" she said.

"I'm not sunshine," Otto muttered. "I'm a thundercloud."

His mom looked at him sideways. "Rough morning?"

"I'm fine," Otto said, in a voice that meant he was absolutely not fine.

He sat down. He stared at his oatmeal. The oatmeal stared back. Otto decided the oatmeal was mocking him somehow, so he mashed it flat with his spoon and left it there, defeated.

He would just wait. The mad would get bored and leave. That's how it worked. Right?

Otto went outside. His neighbor, Franny, was on the sidewalk drawing an enormous chalk castle. It had seventeen towers and a moat full of what Franny said were "friendly piranhas."

"Hey, Otto! Want to draw the dragon? I saved you the dragon!"

Normally Otto loved drawing dragons. He drew the best dragons on the whole block — everyone said so. But today he looked at the chalk and looked at the castle, and the mad toad inside him seemed to puff up even bigger.

"I don't feel like it," he said.

"Oh," said Franny. "Okay. Do you want to just sit and watch?"

"No."

"Do you want to—"

"I said no, Franny."

The words came out sharp. Like little rocks. Otto could feel them leave his mouth, and he could see Franny's face change — just a flicker, like a candle when the wind blows.

"Okay," Franny said quietly. She turned back to her castle.

Otto walked away. The mad was still there. And now, right next to it, there was something else. Something that felt like a bruise.

He went to the park. He sat on the swing but didn't swing. He just sort of hung there, twisting the chains until they creaked.

His friend Dev rode up on his bike, skidding to a stop in that way he thought was cool but was actually kind of dangerous.

"Otto! Guess what? I found a frog behind the recycling bins. A HUGE one. You gotta come see."

"I don't care about a frog," Otto said.

"But it's the biggest one we've ever—"

"I don't care, Dev."

Dev stared at him. "What's wrong with you today?"

"Nothing is wrong with me!" Otto said, and he said it so loud that two pigeons on the bench flew away in a panic.

Dev blinked. Then he shrugged. "Whatever, man." He pedaled off.

The mad hadn't gone anywhere. And the bruise next to it was getting bigger.

Otto walked and walked. He walked past the bakery where the nice lady sometimes gave out broken cookie samples. He didn't stop. He walked past the little free library where last week he'd found a book about a detective cat. He didn't stop. He walked all the way to the big oak tree at the edge of the park, the one with roots that made a kind of chair if you sat in them just right.

He sat down in the root-chair.

He crossed his arms.

He waited.

"Any minute now," he told the mad. "You're going to leave."

The mad did not leave.

It just sat there inside him, heavy and hot. And the bruise sat next to it, growing softer and more sore. And now there was something else, too — something prickly behind his eyes that he absolutely, positively was not going to let out.

A ladybug landed on his knee. It walked in a small, confused circle, like it was lost.

"You too, huh?" Otto said.

The ladybug didn't answer, because it was a ladybug.

Otto watched it walk. Around and around and around his kneecap, going nowhere. Just circling.

And suddenly — he didn't know why — a big, shaky breath pushed out of him. Then another. Then his eyes got blurry, and his throat got thick, and before he could stop it, tears were rolling down his cheeks.

He wasn't even crying about anything. That was the weird part. He was just... crying. Like his body had decided to do it and hadn't asked permission.

He cried for a little bit. Not a huge amount. Just enough.

And when he stopped, he wiped his face on his sleeve, and he noticed something.

The mad toad had gotten smaller.

Not gone. But smaller. Like it had been taking up the whole couch, and now it had scooted over to make room.

Otto sat with that for a while. The sun moved through the leaves above him and made patterns on his arms. The ladybug eventually found the edge of his knee and flew away to wherever ladybugs go.

He thought about Franny and her chalk castle with the friendly piranhas. He thought about the little flicker on her face.

He thought about Dev and his enormous frog.

The bruise inside him ached.

He stood up.

He found Franny first. She was still drawing. The castle had gotten even bigger — it stretched almost to the mailbox now.

"Hey, Franny," he said.

She looked up.

"I'm sorry I was mean before," Otto said. "I've been mad all day and I don't even know why, and I think I accidentally threw some of it at you."

Franny tilted her head, thinking about this. "That's okay," she said. "Sometimes my mad does that too. It bounces off me and hits whoever's closest." She held up a piece of blue chalk. "The dragon spot is still open."

Otto took the chalk. He sat down on the warm sidewalk and drew a dragon — a big one, with enormous wings and little curly horns and fire coming out of its nose. But he gave it a slightly sad expression, because that felt right somehow.

"How come the dragon looks grumpy?" Franny asked.

"He's working on it," Otto said.

Franny nodded like that made perfect sense.

He found Dev next, over by the recycling bins.

"Hey," Otto said. "I'm sorry about before. Can I see the frog?"

Dev studied him for a second, then grinned. "Dude. Wait till you see it. It's like the king of frogs."

The frog was, in fact, enormous. It sat behind the green bin like a slimy little emperor, and when Dev poked a leaf near it, it let out a croak so deep and loud that both boys jumped and then laughed so hard they had to sit down.

Otto laughed until his stomach hurt. It felt like opening a window.

Walking home that evening, Otto checked inside himself, the way you'd check your pockets for something you might have lost.

The mad was still there. Tiny now. Just a little lump in the corner, like a pebble in a shoe. It might be there tomorrow. It might not.

But there was room now for other things, too. Chalk dust on his hands. The memory of a frog's ridiculous croak. The warm feeling of Franny saying that's okay.

Otto didn't know why the mad had come.

But he was starting to learn what to do while it stayed.