Part 19 (1/2)

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I looked at her, not knowing what to say. She rolled her eyes at me.

She said, ”I'm going to go talk to someone.”

Janine stormed to the counselor's desk, and she loudly made clear that she hadn't seen Dr. Cuvo yet. Geoffrey told her that Dr. Pelchat would see her before the day was over.

Janine questioned him, ”Why? Is Dr. Cuvo not coming to see me?”

”Please go sit down and wait for Dr. Pelchat,” Geoffrey pleaded with her.

Janine stared at Geoffrey. Geoffrey looked up at her from his chair. Janine asked, ”Is something wrong with Dr. Cuvo?”

Ms. Mosley got up from her chair and walked over next to Geoffrey. She put her hand on Geoffrey's shoulder. He stayed quiet.

I got up from where I was sitting and went over to the desk. I was concerned and wanted to know, too.

”Is Dr. Cuvo okay?” I asked.

Geoffrey frowned at me. ”Janine and Kristen, please sit down.”

Ms. Mosley kept a calm demeanor, but strongly urged us to step away from the counselor's desk. She said, ”If you both don't do as you are asked, you will go to your room.”

Janine angrily stomped off to the Girls' Unit. I started to follow her, but Ms. Mosley called out to me. I had forgotten about my head injury. She wanted me to stay in the main room so that she could monitor my concussion.

I looked over at the table where Daniel and I had been sitting. Daniel had already disappeared to the Boys' Unit. Looking at the table, I noticed something. Just underneath it, on the floor, was a crumpled-up sheet of paper. I rushed over to the table and grabbed the paper. I smiled at my prize, and then looked around to make sure Daniel wasn't coming back for it.

Ms. Mosley whispered something to Geoffrey that made him squirm uncomfortably in his chair. When she said all that she needed to say, he nodded at her and picked up the telephone and started dialing a number. Ms. Mosley said goodbye to Geoffrey, and she left the unit. Without looking back, I ran to my room.

CHAPTER 21.

Dear Kristen, I miss you so much. Mom said that you would be home soon. I hope you feel better. What made you sick and why can't me and Nicholas come see you? Are the doctors being mean to you? Did they stick you with a needle? I hate needles. Hurry up and get better so that you can come back home.

Love, Alison She signed the letter with a heart next to her name. I was glad to know that Alison didn't know why I was in the hospital. I knew my mother wouldn't tell her. I thought that Nick might, but my mother probably told him not to tell her what happened.

I heard it in my mind so clearly: Mom may have said to Alison, ”Don't worry. Your sister will be home. She's just sick. That's why she had to go to the hospital.” To her friends (John's parents and Lexus' parents), she probably said, ”You know Kristen, such a drama queen. She is calling out for attention, and it's a good thing she is in the hospital. Maybe it will do her some good to be locked up.”

Then, of course, they would all smile, shrug it off, comfort Mom, and feel sorry for her having to deal with a ”sick” child in the hospital. I dreaded the day I had to get out of the hospital. I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Who knew how long it was going to take to get better in Bent Creek? I didn't know. Dr. Cuvo didn't know. I didn't even know if Dr. Cuvo was okay. He was acting strange, and it made me feel strange.

I looked over at Janine. She was lying on her bed, reading a magazine. She seemed to be deep into what she was reading. She was a lot calmer than she'd been in the main area. I wanted to ask her what she thought may have happened to Dr. Cuvo, but I didn't want to get her upset again. At the counselor's desk, she'd seemed like she suspected something terrible. The fear and anger that had been in her voice made me wonder.

”What?” Janine asked, noticing that I was staring at her.

She smoothed out her magazine so it lay flat on the bed in front of her. As soon as she smoothed the magazine's pages out, I saw what she was interested in. She wasn't reading an article. Posing in the magazine were four super-models barely covered up in two-piece bikinis. Their faces were glamorously painted in make-up. They had perfectly tanned skin. Their bodies were perfectly thin. The bikinis were bright, provocative, and expensive. They looked like live-action Barbie dolls.

I said, ”Janine, summer is almost over. Are you thinking about getting one of those swimsuits?”

Janine scoffed.

”If I could fit in one,” she said.

”I'm sure they come in different sizes,” I told her.

She raised her eyes slightly and said, ”I don't want one unless I can look like that in it. If I looked like that, I would be perfect.”

She looked almost crazed. Her eyes were sharp as she stared at the pictures. I didn't know whether I should to tell someone that she had that magazine. It couldn't be helping her. She turned the page, and there was a picture of a handsome, teen pop singer. He was very famous for his sensational dance moves and chart-topping alb.u.ms. I remembered Alison screaming over the boy when she'd seen him on television accepting a Grammy Award. Janine's attention seemed to be focused on the cute and popular star instead of the anorexic quadruplets on the previous page. I let it go, and went back to minding my own business.

I looked beside me and saw Daniel's crumpled-up artwork. I smiled as I grabbed it, remembering our conversation. I opened the paper, and inside was a drawing of a mysterious girl. She didn't appear to be smiling. Her hair was long, and it went down her shoulders. She had a swoop bang that covered one eye. She was beautiful. She looked like she didn't smile much. She probably didn't need to. Her perfectly sculpted, heart-shaped lips made her expressions without moving. I noticed that she actually was smiling, even though her lips weren't curled up enough at the corners to show it. Her eyes gave a hint that she may have been in love.

A sick feeling came over me. It wasn't nausea. It was the sickness that came with love. When you loved someone and they didn't know that you loved them, it was sickening. Who was this girl? Whom did she love? Where was she? Maybe she was gone because she'd loved him. She'd realized that it wasn't what she thought it would be. Maybe he'd told her that he loved her, and maybe he'd let her down. I leaned back on my pillow.

Dear Kristen, Are you okay? Why did you do that? You scared me so bad. How could you do something like that? I am mad at you. Didn't we say that we would always be there for each other? Mom said that we would start over and get better as a family. Why did you mess everything up? Mom is mad. She closed your door and said that no one can go in there. I don't want you to die. There is hope for you.

Love, Nick I folded his letter in two, and closed myself up inside. The pain was deep. I couldn't do anything locked in Bent Creek. I couldn't do anything to make him understand. I didn't want him to understand. Nick was the one who'd gotten the support after Jack had been sent to prison. Everyone had said that Nick was the one who'd needed treatment because he'd been the one hurt. Alison and I hadn't been hurt. No, we hadn't been hurt at all. Everyone had listened to Nick because he'd been Jack's victim. He'd been small and helpless. He had been heard. Mom had made sure of it. Nick had received treatment. He'd gone through years of psychiatric help and support. And I had begun cutting myself. Mr. Sharp had become my only real friend. He'd showed me how to deal with the pain. I'd tried to kill myself, but I hadn't succeeded. That was what Nick couldn't understand.

I balled up his letter in anger. The feeling of sickness and death swelled back up inside of me. If my heart could just stop right now, if it could just go with the rotting feeling that I had inside, if it would just stop on my command, I would be free, I thought.

In anger, I tore the letter into pieces. I couldn't hold the rage inside of me in any longer. I bit into the shredded pieces of paper and chewed them. While chewing, I grabbed my pillow and repeatedly punched it as hard as I could.

I screamed, ”I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”

I screamed until my throat burned. Janine rushed over to my side and tried to grab my arm. I pushed her away, still screaming. She flew back and hit the wall. I wasn't aware of my own strength. I fell back on my bed and started biting the sheets, having swallowed the paper in my mouth.

Janine ran out of the room. I couldn't stop her. I was too busy trying to eat my bed sheets in a fit of rage. I tried to focus my mind, but I was too far gone. Mr. Sharp stared at me from across the room. Nodding his head and smiling, he told me to bleed. I bit hard into the sheet, and let it cut my lip. Blood pinched out. It wasn't satisfying enough, so I tried harder so that the blood would spill. My teeth ground into the sheets, and I heard myself grunting and snarling like an animal. This madness was wonderful, and it made Mr. Sharp excited.

”That's right,” he said. ”Do them all a favor. You're hopeless. That's why things are the way they are. It's because you are hopeless, Kristen. Hopeless.”

I hadn't always been... hopeless...

Hope had risen out of my fingertips and onto the paper when I used to write. I'd loved writing poems. Dad used to be my biggest fan. He used to ask to read some of my poetry whenever I was writing and he'd knock on my bedroom door and just come in without an answer. He used to hover over me in curiosity. He used to be interested in me.

”Is my girl writing again?” he asked.

”Yes, Daddy, but it's not ready yet. You can't read it,” I told him with a shy giggle.

He wouldn't let up. He kept pressing me until I gave in and read to him what I had written so far.

”Okay, fine. Are you ready?” I gave in.

”Yeah,” he said with a smile. ”I don't think I can wait any longer to hear what future award-winning poet, Kristen Elliott, has written.”