A Safe Place for Joey by Mary MacCracken Page A

oblivious to everything that was going on; even his red hair seemed dull and lifeless. I could not believe he was allowed to wear headphones in school, but he had them on and no one seemed to notice.
    “Ms. Answera,” Mr. Templar said, “I know this isn’t the best timing, but Mrs. MacCracken isn’t in our school very often, and I wanted you two to have the chance to meet. Mrs.MacCracken works with Joey Stone.”
    Ms. Answera peered at me through violet-tinted glasses, big as saucers. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.
    “Listen, I’ll come back tomorrow before school, if that’s all right? You don’t need interruptions on a day like this.”
    “Sure thing,” Ms. Answera answered amiably. “That’d be fine.”
    I waved to Joey before I left, but if he saw me hegave no sign. He slouched against the coat closet, headphones in place, eyes focused on something out of sight.
    I was more concerned than ever after my visit to the school. I didn’t blame Mr. Templar or Ms. Answera, and besides, blaming the system wouldn’t help Joey. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have fought so hard to keep him in a regular class. If Joey was in special ed now,there would be fewer kids and less confusion, and probably the same teacher as the year before.
    Mrs. Stone was watering the lawn when I pulled up in front of her house.
    “Thank you for taking time on a Saturday,” she said, as we walked down the front walk.
    She smiled, but before she could open the door, her smile disappeared. A loud, angry, male voice shouted, “Get out of here!Right now! Damn it! I told you a hundred times! No food in the den! I don’t care if that’s where the television is. This place is a mess! Now get that plate back to the kitchen, you little pig.”
    “That’s Grandpa.” Gail Stone sighed. “The boys drive him crazy, especially Joey. Mom died early this summer, and with his blood pressure I didn’t dare leave him alone. So we sold their house andhe moved in here. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
    “Anyway,” she said, “let’s go out back. Al will be right down.”
    There was a small terrace at the far end of the yard, and Mrs. Stone motioned me to a canvas chair and handed me a glass of iced tea.
    Al Stone came out from the house and across the backyard. He looked tired, thinner than I remembered. Something in his hairglinted in the sunlight, and I stared in disbelief. The metal sidepieces of headphones identical to those Joey wore reflected the afternoon sun.
    Al slipped the headphones off as he approached and shook my hand. “Good to see you. How’ve you been?”
    “Fine,” I replied, still riveted to the headphones.
    “Oh,” he said, following my eyes. “These? Only way to survive around here.”
    “Gailllll? Where are you? Gailllll?” Grandpa stood in the back doorway, calling plaintively.
    “Excuse me. I’ll just be a minute,” Gail Stone said apologetically, as she scurried across the yard.
    Although the sun shone and the birds sang, I shivered in the canvas chair. It was clear that Joey’s world was coming apart, both at home and in school.
    Al Stone said nothing all afternoon.It was as though he too had turned off the world. Although his headphones were off, he was still listening to something else. He was pleasant but quiet, and either resisted or ignored every attempt I made to draw him into the conversation. Mrs. Stone and I talked, but all the important things went unsaid.
    Gail Stone did not mention that she was torn between her obligations to her fatherand the resentment of her husband. All afternoon she ran back and forth between them, trying to keep the peace, while we talked in snatches about what was happening to Joey.
    Al Stone did not talk about the anger he felt at having his home invaded by a querulous, demanding old man – he just tuned out. He stayed at work as late as he could and put on his headphones when he got home. When Icommented on the inappropriateness of Joey