The Perks of Being a Wallflower

but it was very comfortable. They had a lot of books, which I spent about a half an hour asking them about. There was also a picture of Bill and his girlfriend when they were at Brown together in graduate school. Bill had very long hair then.
    Bill’s girlfriend made lunch while Bill made the salad. I just sat in the kitchen, drinking a ginger ale, and watching them. The lunch was a spaghetti dish of some sort because Bill’s girlfriend doesn’t eat meat. Bill doesn’t eat meat either now. The salad did have imitation bacon bits, though, because bacon is the only thing they both miss.
    They had a really nice collection of jazz records, and they kept playing them all through lunch. After a while, they broke open a bottle of white wine and gave me another ginger ale. Then, we started talking.
    Bill asked me about The Fountainhead, and I told him, making sure that I was a filter.
    Then, he asked me about how I liked my first year of high school, and I told him, making sure that I included all the stories in which I “participated.”
    Then, he asked me about girls, and I told him how I really loved Sam, and how I wondered what the lady who wrote The Fountainhead would say about how I came to realize that I loved her.
    After I finished, Bill got very quiet. He cleared his throat.
    “Charlie … I want to thank you.”
    “Why?” I said.
    “Because it has been a wonderful experience teaching you.”
    “Oh … I’m glad.” I didn’t know what else to say.
    Then, Bill took this really long pause, and his voice sounded like my dad when he wants to have a big talk.
    “Charlie,” he said. “Do you know why I gave you all that extra work?”
    I shook my head no. That look on his face. It made me quiet.
    “Charlie, do you know how smart you are?”
    I just shook my head no again. He was talking for real. It was strange.
    “Charlie, you’re one of the most gifted people I’ve ever known. And I don’t mean in terms of my other students. I mean in terms of anyone I’ve ever met. That’s why I gave you the extra work. I was wondering if you were aware of that?”
    “I guess so. I don’t know.” I felt really strange. I didn’t know where this was coming from. I just wrote some essays.
    “Charlie. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I just want you to know that you’re very special… and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.”
    I looked up at him. And then I didn’t feel strange. I felt like I wanted to cry. He was being so nice to me, and the way his girlfriend looked, I knew that this meant a lot to him. And I didn’t know why it did.
    “So, when the school year ends, and I’m not your teacher anymore, I want you to know that if you ever need anything, or want to know about more books, or want to show me anything you write, or anything, you can always come to me as a friend. I do consider you a friend, Charlie.”
    I started crying a little bit. I actually think his girlfriend was, too. But Bill wasn’t. He looked very solid. I just remember wanting to hug him. But I’ve never done that before, and I guess Patrick and girls and family don’t count. I didn’t say anything for a while because I didn’t know what to say.
    So, finally I just said, “You’re the best teacher I ever had.”
    And he said, “Thank you.”
    And that was that. Bill didn’t try to make sure that I would see him next year if I needed anything. He didn’t ask me why I was crying. He just let me hear what he had to say in my own way and let things be. That was probably the best part.
    After a few minutes, it was time for me to leave. I don’t know who decides these things. It just happens.
    So, we went to the door, and Bill’s girlfriend hugged me goodbye, which was very nice considering I didn’t know her except for today. Then, Bill extended his hand, and I took it. And we shook hands. And I even sneaked in a quick hug before I said “good-bye.”
    When I was driving home, I just thought about the word “special.” And I thought the last person who said that about me was my aunt Helen. I was very grateful to have heard it again. Because I guess we all forget sometimes. And I think everyone is special in their own way. I really do.
    My brother gets home tonight. And everyone’s graduation is tomorrow. Patrick still hasn’t called. I called him, but no one was home again. So, I decided to go out and buy everyone