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Betsy asks him calmly, "Michael, can you draw a picture of your house?" The house that Michael draws is a series of connected ladders and squares. Stick figures occupy the upper squares; they represent tenants on the upper floors. The lowest square is filled in with green. As he continues to work, the other children are asked to talk about their self-portraits. Elena is too shy. Carmen says she is pretty in her drawing. Betsy asks Michael where his self- portrait is. Michael picks up one of his discarded sheets, announces, "This is a bad guy. I'm going to make a jet." He folds the paper into a plane and lets it fly.
"Tell us about the house you drew, Michael."
"This is a Christmas tree, and this is Santa Claus at the gate." The tree is discernible; Santa Claus is not. Of a figure standing outside the ladder structure, Michael says, "This is a girl going to my house, and this is a monster kissing her." He is asked, "Where are you in the picture?" He points to the center of the green square. "I am inside the house looking out," he says.
The others continue drawing. Ralphy has returned and produces an excellent self-portrait. Michael has stopped drawing. He sits at a desk, lays his head on his arm and stares dreamily at the window and the dark blue afternoon. He takes a swig of apple juice and is reprimanded by Lori for not asking first. "Let's play outside, Lori," he asks. Lori explains that today is meant for drawing. Michael takes more apple juice without permission. Lori says that she will tell Sister Geraldine.
"You won't tell," Michael implores her.
Lori reaffirms that she will.
"Give me one more chance?" He holds up an index finger.
"Why are you so afraid?" asks Lori.
"I'm not afraid," said with no emotion. He folds another sheet and raises and lowers it in the air. He mutters, "Bird."
Michael heads for the bathroom again, going out without asking. Lori calls after him. The session winds up. The other children are putting away their Magic Markers. Lori calls, "Michael, you'd better be back in this room by the count of five." Michael re-enters at four, crushes a plastic cup under his heel, crumples his picture and throws it into the trash can. Lori stares at him. He runs toward Ralphy and slaps Ralphy's self-portrait out of his hand. He laughs, slams the door to the room from the inside. As the other children slip on their jackets, Michael stands at the wall, looks everyone over and turns out the lights.
IX SUNSET PARK
Between the winter hours of 4 and 6, the long avenues of Sunset Park glow like orange groves, the light trickling into the side streets the way water glints in dark canals. Each area of the neighborhood has its own light. On the older residential streets, the lights in the houses are modest, like candle glow, except where someone has decided to explode with the season and Christmas lights engulf a house to the extent that no house shows. At the harbor, the late day brings almost total darkness; the lights are on the water in the windows of the boats.