With a snort, I swipe strands of hair from my face. “Nope. Not yet. Angel has me working on this journaling project thing, and I have a feeling that until I finish it, I’m stuck here.”
“I’m glad. I mean, not that you have to be stuck in this shit-hole, but that I have someone to hang out with who isn’t completely mad.”
Suddenly, PJ shrieks. She hops up onto the couch beside me. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but then I see the smirk on Michael’s face. What the hell did he do to her?
Ellie leans closer and whispers, “He won’t stop looking at me—I think he wants to kill me …”
“Shh … it’s okay. Just ignore him, that’s what I do,” I say.
But when I glance around, I see he’s still watching us. His mouth reminds me of a feral dog’s. It’s almost hungry like at any second he might pounce.
Rhett scoots next to me and throws an arm around my shoulder, and I do the same to PJ. “Why don’t bug off Michael, quit staring like a freak.”
“I can be here anytime. And I can watch whoever, I want.” Michael licks his lips. “I bet Ellie looks hot without her shirt on.”
“And I bet my fist would look perfect slamming into your face,” Rhett says, standing. He grabs my hand and drags me up too. PJ follows close behind. “Fine, you want the commons you can have them, we’re out.”
We head down the hallway and go to the library instead. It’s a lot quieter in here, almost peaceful. When we sit at one of the tables, I shiver. Michael’s been getting more and more intense. And it’s starting to creep me the hell out.
“That kid’s a fucking whack-job.” Rhett rests his head against the back of the chair. “If he messes with you again, PJ, just let me know.” He turns to look at me. “Or you. I mean it, if he fucking tries anything, tell me.”
“I can handle myself; I’ll be fine.”
The one thing I’ve learned over the course of the last few months is that if nothing else I’m resilient. At least kind of.
Chapter Seventeen
My hands clench in my lap as I wait for my parents to sit down. Mom’s strong perfume wafts in the air. Her hair as always is done to perfection. Blond tendrils hang loose about her shoulders. She must’ve just come from work because she’s wearing one of her gray pantsuits, with pointy black heels, and is carrying her briefcase.
Dad’s dark hair is slicked back. He tucks his phone into his suit coat pocket, straightens his tie, then sits down opposite of Angel and me.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Gebhardt, it’s so good to see you both again. I hoped to get a chance to sit down with the three of you together. Kind of talk with everyone and see where we’re at.” Angel smiles, her glasses atop her head. She pulls out a notepad and pen; her leg is swinging back in forth in front of her. I’m waiting for my mom to slap her thigh and make her stop like she used to do to me in church.
“Is Ellie finally getting out of her funk?” Mom asks. Her blue eyes pierce me as if she’s examining me for some visible improvement or something.
“These things can take some time. Ellie has to work through everything. She’s making great strides, though. We’re getting to the root of the problems now.” Angel stands, goes to her desk, and picks up my notebooks.
I go still. These are supposed to be just between us. I hope she isn’t planning on going through them. Fuck. Nausea rumbles in my gut, and I dig my nails into my palms.
But she tucks them under her notepad.
“And what sort of problems would those be?” Dad meets her gaze. “Because Ellie has had a superb upbringing, there’s no reason for her to be like this. We have a big house; she gets pretty much everything she wants—phone, clothes, a computer, college paid for.”
Angel’s face reddens. “Mr. Gebhardt, people from any walk of life can have a mental illness. Money doesn’t exclude anyone. Yes, Ellie might have all the worldly possessions imaginable, but there could still be something missing for her.”
I want to high-five her. She gets me.
“We just don’t understand why this is taking so long. Ellie seems fine today,” Mom says.
I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at her. “That’s because you’re only seeing what you want to see. You want everything to be perfect and okay. You never really look at me. Or see me.”
“We see you. You’re beautiful and have your whole future ahead of you. Some of the best law schools in the country are interested in having you.” Dad sits up straighter. “Ellie, everyone knows how great you are. So, you had a dark moment, it doesn’t have to define the rest of your life. Everything you’ve worked hard for is still within grasp.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be a lawyer. I-I’m tired of busting my butt to please you and Mom. There are so many other things I’d rather do.” My voice cracks. The fact that I’m voicing this to them is a huge step for me. I’ve been so scared for so long to tell them. Of course, they know I love art and snuck around to do it. But I’ve never actually stood up to them. Maybe having Angel in here is giving me the extra courage I need. Either that or I’m at the point where I don’t give a shit what they think anymore.
Mom sets her briefcase down on the floor. “You can’t mean that Ellie. You’ve spent time interning and sending out your applications to Harvard and Yale … Let me guess, Alex talked to you, didn’t he? He probably filled your head with crazy dreams that’ll never amount to anything.”
I jump to my feet. “This isn’t about Alex. It’s about me. I don’t want to be a lawyer. I’m tired of you trying to run every aspect of my life. I feel like I’m suffocating when I’m around you.” Tears well in my eyes. “There are so many rules. I can’t wear clothes with holes in them. I can’t take art. I’m not allowed to stay out passed eight at night. You won’t allow me to visit Aunt Mamie. You blame me for Grandpa’s death. You dictate every part of my life. I couldn’t go to camp because I had to do the internship. If I have anything below an A-, I get grounded. You double check and triple check every piece of homework I hand in …” I sob, wishing they would understand. But they don’t.
Doc Angel stands and comes to my side. She places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Ellie. This is good. Getting these feelings out will help you.”
My dad glowers. “Shouting at her parents is supposed to help her? What kind of place is this?”
Angel spins to face him. “It’s a place where children can feel safe, where they can share thoughts in a safe environment, to allow us to figure out what is really going on with them. Ellie, why don’t you go ahead and go now. I think I’ll need some time to speak with your parents.”
I don’t even bother to say goodbye. Instead, I rush out the door and down the hall. Today is visitation day. I head to my usual spot at the checkers’ table, hoping Ky will be there. I really need him today. His smile. His encouragement. His light.
But when I arrive, he’s not there. Maybe he’ll come later. Or maybe not. I sit there for several minutes, waiting. The clock continues to tick, drawing visiting hours closer to being done.
“Mind if I sit?” Rhett asks.
“Go ahead,” I say.
He slides the chair back and plops down across from me. “I take it your parents came today?”
I tug at my shirt sleeves. “How’d you guess?”
“The fact that you’re crying, and I saw them walk in behind my dad, just figured.”
“Your dad left already?” I set up the black checkers.
Rhett shrugs. “He never stays long. Just enough to make a show of coming to see me, which is better than my mom who sits at home in a dark room, pretending I’m away on vacation or some shit.”
“God, our parents are so fucked up,” I blurt out. “And they wonder why I flipping can’t get my shit together.”
He chuckles. “No shit. But I’ve made a deal with myself; I’m going to quit worrying about mine, and worry about me. Being pissed at them isn’t going to get me out of here any sooner.” He finishes putting the white pieces onto the
board, then peers up at me. “What do you miss most from the outside?”
I’m thankful for him changing the subject. “The beach. Eating chocolate whenever I want, my best friend Shannon, whom my parents don’t like.”
“Why don’t they like her?” He moves his checker piece forward.
Then I shift a black one into place. “Because they don’t think she’s good enough to hang out with me. Her dad went to jail for drug stuff a few years ago, and her mom’s waitress who works too many hours. Stupid shit really, my parents are so worried about their reputations they don’t like us associating within anyone outside their circle.”
Rhett’s jaw tightens. “That sounds familiar.”
“So, what about you? What do you miss most?”
“The beach. My art supplies. My brother Ryan.” His voice softens at the mention of his brother.
“I didn’t know you have a brother.”
“I did. H-he’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.” What more is there to say really? I know sorry doesn’t really cover it or do anything to make it any less shitty. “Did he get sick or something?”
Rhett’s face darkens. For a second, it’s like he loses himself in some twisted memory. “Kind of. He shot himself in the head. I was the one who found him.”
“Oh, God. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it …”
He tears his eyes from the game board and meets mine. “I think it’s time I talked about it. My parents always shoved everything under the rug. Like if you didn’t talk about it or mention it then it didn’t happen. No one ever wanted to mention Ryan’s name or speak about what happened.”
“Tell me about him,” I say. Because I want Rhett to feel better, for him to be able to talk about something that obviously pains him. To get the darkness out of his system.
“Ryan was three years older than me. And he was awesome. Everything he did, he included me in. He played football, was in the Jazz Band, also did musicals. Just a well-rounded guy. I wanted to be like him when I grew up.”
He picks up a checker and spins it around in his hand as if examining it. “In high school, Ryan and Dad used to fight all the time. Normally behind closed doors. But after a huge blowout, my dad beat the crap out of Ryan. I didn’t know at the time, what was going on. But the next day, I-I found Ryan in the garage. He’d blown his head off.”
I reach for his hand across the table and take it in mine. There are so many things I wish to say to try and make him feel better. But I’ve been in this position since Grandpa died. There are never enough right words to say to help. Because words don’t bring people back.
“I-I found a letter on one of the benches, and I grabbed it. It was the last thing he’d written, and I wanted it. I must’ve screamed because soon my parents were there. Crying. Yelling. Then the police came and took Ryan’s body away. For months, I had nightmares about finding him. It fucked me up so bad.”
“Did you ever read the letter?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, like a million times. Dad tried to blame Ryan’s death on his hanging out with a bad crowd. But, the note he left stated otherwise. Ryan was gay. He’d come out to my dad. And when he did, Dad blew his lid. He beat the shit out of him and told him he wasn’t gay and that he’d fix him. That no son of his would be a faggot. So, he grounded Ryan, only allowing him to go to football practice and home. Ryan was miserable. However, he did manage to sneak his boyfriend in one night, a guy from his football team. Dad came home early from work and caught them. He kicked Ryan’s boyfriend out and raged out on my brother. He told Ryan he’d send him someplace they could fix people ‘like him’.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous,” I say, swiping at the wetness in my own eyes.
“I know. You don’t know how many times I hear Dad’s voice in my head saying this shit over and over. How broken Ryan was. The next day, before Dad could ship him off, he killed himself. I fucking hate my parents for it. If they’d just let him be him and not started all this stuff, then Ryan would still be here, you know. Ryan was the only one who loved me and took care of me. My parents were always too busy. But not him.”
I’m out of my seat and standing next to Rhett; my fingers squeeze his shoulder. “Your parents are idiots. You never should’ve had to go through this.”
“After Ryan died my parents became obsessed with making sure I turned out right. Constant private schools, counseling, that picture of perfection in front of their clients. I had to smile and pretend everything was great. But inside, all I saw was the darkness. I couldn’t live up to their expectations. I disappointed them when I ended up being more fucked up than Ryan.”
“You’re not fucked up. I promise, Rhett. Because if you are, that means I am too. And we’re better than all this. We truly are. I promise we’ll figure something out with our parents.” I twine my arms around him and rest my chin on his head. Beneath my embrace, I feel him tremble, and I realize he’s crying. And I let him. He needs the release. He needs to grieve.
I want to keep hugging him, but an orderly comes in and screams. “Hey, stop that. There’s no hugging or kissing allowed. No PDA.”
I back away from Rhett, but not before giving him one last squeeze. Rhett and I need the light. We have to find it and not let the shadows destroy us. But it’s so hard.
Chapter Eighteen
The Happy Rainbow Farting Unicorn List Number 4: Shannon
After parting ways with Rhett, I sit on my bed, staring at my drawings plastered all over the room. I’m alone, but not alone. All around me there are other people going through what I am. I shut my eyes, leaning my head against the wall. My heart hurts for Rhett. The gruesome nightmares that must plague him. I can’t imagine being the one to find someone dead like that. Someone else who hurt so much they couldn’t cope any longer. My fingers knot in my hair as I hold my head.
Then I remember how Alex found me on the brink of death. Emotions swirl. Darkness hovers in my mind, waiting to plunge me into a black abyss. I can’t let it.
I take a deep breath.
I’m alive.
But I could’ve been another statistic. So many times, I had wished I was. Now, I’m glad I’m not. I need to get better. I need to fight. The more I see around me, the more I want to give people like me a voice. To shout and scream and make others understand how much what they say and do can harm someone. Make us topple over the edge.
My lids open and I reach for my happy notebook. My day can’t end with all these negative thoughts. I flip through the pages, until I find my next blank page.
I scour my mind for a positive memory. Then I think of my best friend, Shannon. How she never let me go, even when I pushed her away. So, here’s to Shannon who I met in first grade on the playground.
My shoe scrapes at the rocks stuck in the ground. I want to play with someone. But all the girls I know are playing house. I don’t like house. And the boys are messing around with a soccer ball. I sit on the swing, staring across the playground. Sometimes I hate recess. No one ever wants to do what I want to do.
But Mom will get really mad if I come home again with a dirty dress. I hate dresses. And the stupid braids Mom makes me wear.
I sigh, watching a puffy cloud the shape of a marshmallow float by. I think it’d be fun to be able to go up there and touch it. Is it soft like cotton? Can I walk on it? My eyes squint, and I glance at the jungle gym. There, sitting by herself is a new girl I haven’t seen before. She’s wearing holy jeans, a Superman T-shirt, and camouflage shoes.
At least her parents let her wear jeans with rips in them. Mine don’t. I watch her for a minute as she swings from the bars. No one is playing with her either. Maybe she’ll let me hang around her.
I hop down from the swing and move toward her. When I reach her, I smile. “Hi, I’m Ellie. Do you want to do something with me?”
Her eyes grow big like basketballs. “Who, me?”
I laugh. “Yes. I thought maybe we can be warrior princesses. But only
if you want to.”
“Sure. What do we do?”
My feet reach the first bar. “We climb up high and then defend our castle from bad guys. Kind of like superheroes.”
“Okay. I’ve always wanted to be a princess superhero. My name is Shannon.”
We spent the rest of recess pretending to be attacked by dragons and wizards and bad guys. A few boys in our class even came over to see what we’re doing. So, we make them be our guards. Not that we need them. Because we’re as tough as they are. Probably tougher.
When I stop writing, I grin remembering how ridiculous we were. However, it was fun back then to pretend we were bad-asses. I wish now that I’d hung onto that mentality. But here I am. Shannon seems like such a distant memory. I miss her. Miss her encouragement. The way she always tried to watch out for me. For part of high school, I pushed her away. Now I want her back. At least if she’ll have me. The last we talked, we were trying to mend the rift that Haydon Barber created between us. Just thinking of his name has me clenching tight to my bedding. I’m getting closer to being able to face that demon. But not yet.
Chapter Nineteen
The Happy Rainbow Farting Unicorn List Number 5: Camping With Grandpa
Rhett and I make our way down the corridor after another group session. Today we talked about journaling, and how getting our feelings down could be a good outlet. So far, my own notebooks have helped some. I mean, not the part where I remember bad moments, but getting a chance to look at some of my happier ones, makes me realize not everything in my life is bad.
Before we round the bend in the hall, Doc Angel hollers after us. “Hey, wait up. I wanted to talk to you two.”
I swivel to face her, casting a quick glance at Rhett. He shrugs.
“So, when your parents were in this week, I had a chance to ask if they’d allow you two to go on a sort of field trip with me. They gave me permission to leave the Institute, so I thought today would be a good day. We’ll have an orderly and a driver to accompany us as well.”
The D.B. List Page 8
