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orange wad, which no amount of saliva could effectively moisten.
    Two minutes to five. Almost showtime. Richie folded his arms and stared at the phones, a very old-fashioned kind that you would think was too obsolete to work—beige plastic, the receiver attached to the base with a squiggly coil. I took a deep breath. Any Incomings would go automatically to Margaret, the veteran, on line 1. If her line was busy, the call would bounce to Richie on line 2. Manning line 3, I’d get the fewest calls.
    Line 1 rang, and Margaret pressed the button.
    Soon both Margaret and Richie were talking to Incomings. Their listening, though professional, had a different quality from what I’d witnessed with Dad’s therapist, Dr. Fritz. Fritz was hugely into eye contact. Here, Margaret doodled. Richie arranged circus peanuts end to end. His voice seemed different on the phone: low, sincere, and commiserative, it might make Incomings believe he was my age. On a scrap of paper I wrote a song title: “Check In Before You Check Out.” Then, holy cripes, my phone lit. Line 3 was ringing. Someone needed me. Someone was in trouble, and I was going tosave them. Margaret and Richie dropped their listening faces and glanced at me with big, encouraging eyes. For a second I felt overwhelmed. I hesitated. Richie covered his mouthpiece with one hand and motioned at me to pick up.
    I grabbed the receiver.

17.
call 1
    L isteners. Can I help you?”
    Yeah. How’s it going?
    “Not bad. How’s it going with you?”
    All right.
    “What’s happening?”
    Not much. Have you seen Mineral Man?
    “Why, is it good?”
    So you haven’t seen it?
    “Have you seen it?”
    I saw it last night! The special effects were incredible! There was a scene where Mineral Man turned an entire city into a white mineral—the buildings, the people, the cars, even the food—and it sparkled so much that even though it was nighttime it looked like the middle of the day.
    “Sounds like you really enjoyed it. My name’s Billy, by the way.”
    Do you read any comics?
    “I don’t know.”
    You don’t know?
    Oh, cripes. I wasn’t supposed to reveal anything about myself, but what kind of idiot doesn’t know whether he reads comics or not? Not very convincing. I had to get the hang of that.
    “I mean, I’ve looked at them, sure, but I don’t know much about them. Is Mineral Man your favorite?”
    Well, some people are upset that the movie is a complete departure from the comic, but I think it completely adds to the comic. When I go to a movie I like to see the character be fairly complex, with both a dark side and a light side, you know? And in this one we get to see Seth’s dark side in a way we’ve never seen it before. I really don’t understand why anyone would be trashing it. And it’s the same director who did Varga. I think, in a way, it upsets the public for the director to do something different than he did before. To have a different style or whatever.
    “Yep.”
    Well, what do you think? Do you agree?
    “It sounds like you have really strong feelings about movies.”
    It really ticks me off when people go to a movie just expecting to be entertained.
    “You seem a little angry.”
    What? Not really. I guess I’m just intense. Or passionate. Passionate about movies.
    “So you’re not upset?”
    No. I’m having fun with this. This is cool.
    “Sorry to interrupt, but—are you feeling suicidal?”
    It was awkward to bring this up out of nowhere. But kind of a thrill, too. What if he said yes?
    No.
    “Okay, we ask everyone that.”
    I know. And the answer is no.
    “Do you want to tell me your first name?”
    I’m Carl.
    “Okay, Carl, do you want to get back to what you were saying?”
    With a little probing, Carl outlined Books 1, 2, and 3 of the Mineral Man saga. I started to realize one of the benefits of open-ended questions: I could probe forever without making a statement that would reveal I had no idea what I was talking about. And Carl loved to