CHAPTER NINE #2
“Are you sure you didn’t say it right the first time?” Manuel kept pace beside me, showing an impressive amount of athleticism when he turned and managed the same speed in reverse. “Are you meeting someone? Is that why the school thinks you needed to text him back?”
Was that an orb?
I unfocused my gaze, trying to see without seeing. My temperature had dropped by half a degree.
Not good.
I picked up my pace.
“Oh, so you do have a hot date,” Manuel concluded, still keeping abreast.
A whispery slither sounded, like a snake rushing along the dry, autumn ground. My eardrums prickled with an itch I couldn’t scratch, and an invisible energy grew.
I wouldn’t make it to the parking lot. On cue, my watch beeped a notification, warning that my vitals were doing something wonky. Its sole purpose served to offer an alert, so there was no surprise there.
Except… the onset of this episode felt different. Wild. Violent.
I angled my backpack in Manuel’s direction without slowing, ignoring the very visible spheres that now floated indiscriminately on the outskirts of my vision. Experience told me that nobody else could see them, so I did my best to ignore them as well.
Smile and don’t stare at the invisible bouncing balls. All good here.
“Hey, could you reach into my zippered pocket?”
“What for?” he asked, already beginning to do so.
“I have snacks in there.”
Food was the only thing that helped me through this psychosis. If I caught the symptoms early enough, then I could sometimes avert them entirely, or, like now, at least hold it off long enough to reach the somewhat private confines of the Jeep.
The wrapper crinkling rang like salvation.
He pulled the snack free. “Peanut butter protein bars. Nice.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, demolishing half in a single bite. “There’s more if you’re hungry too.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”
I swallowed. “I said there’s more in there if you’re hungry.”
“Ah-ah, uh, no thanks, I’m good.” He shook his head. “Did you not get lunch today?”
“No, I had lunch. Hey, could you grab me another?” We’d arrived at the outside doors, sharing a quick nod with the teacher guarding the exit.
Manuel handed over a second energy bar.
The dry slithering had graduated to distorted whispers, like chasing stations on an old FM radio that never quite tuned into the perfect frequency. I made quick work of the additional snack and debated how to ask him for a third.
Manuel poked me, making me jump. “Sorry! It’s just, where do you put it?”
The cold receded a little. Thank you, Mr. Nutter’s Delight. “High metabolism. Hey, if I asked you to…” I trailed off, because another one hovered right near my nose. Apparently, my starving man routine helped him see the writing on the wall. I liked a guy who anticipated my needs.
Ben would have.
My chewing slowed as I grew pensive.
“Oh, are you being escorted?” Manuel asked, breaking through my thoughts.
An all too familiar trio of figures waited around my Jeep. “Hmm. I’m not sure.”
Manuel took in the company, his face showing obvious surprise. His brow arched in bemusement at the less than warm reception we received when we moved within talking distance.
“You’re Manuel, right?” Kolton asked. “You play varsity basketball.”
His words sounded perfectly friendly, but his eyes could cut glass.
“Don’t hold that against me,” Manuel joked. “I know it isn’t football.”
No one laughed, staring at him with unerring intensity.
“Right, well, I’ll release you to your guard dogs,” Manuel quipped, walking in front of me and giving me a clear WTF look where they couldn’t see. “Catch you later, Willa.”
I waved him off.
“Oh,” Manuel called, doing his backward walk again, a skill learned on the basketball court perhaps? “You guys should remember to feed her. She’s starving, so, you know, if you go out anywhere…” He let the comment hang in the air as he jogged off.
Ralph’s and Hunter’s gazes lingered on Manuel’s retreating figure for a long time, but Kolton’s stare cut through me. “So… you’re pals with Manuel?”
“No, not really. He’s an office worker, I think.
He showed me my classes yesterday.” Deciding after a beat that questioning them on their weird behavior would not be worth the effort, I unlocked the doors, depositing my backpack in the front seat in a clear sign that I wouldn’t be giving anyone rides. “I should head out.”
“Wait, Willa,” Ralph began, “don’t shut down again. We will keep finding you, but you do look exhausted. Just answer your phone when you get home. Can you do that?”
My throat tightened. “Yeah,” I croaked. “Okay, I’ll do that.”
“Alright.” Ralph grinned, surprised then untrusting of my easy capitulation.
Hunter arrived at the same conclusion, looking me over more closely. “Maybe one of us should drive you home.”
The sounds or whatever had retreated, but they could return at any time. A sigh escaped. “You know what? Actually, that would be great. Thank you.”
My words failed to reassure them, and their frowns deepened.
“What? You guys act like I’m difficult or something. I don’t have to be dead or dying to accept help.”
“Sure, Wordsmith,” Kolton scoffed, and then both he and Ralph laughed.
Even Hunter cracked a grin. “Come on. Get in the passenger seat before you change your mind.”
“I can drive her this time. Maybe I’ll run her by the hospital to make extra sure she isn’t dead or dying,” Ralph teased.
Luckily, the ride home was uneventful, and to my surprise, Ralph didn’t ask questions nor stay when Dad invited him to dinner. “Nah, Willa seems like she’s peopled out. Rain check?”
Simple as that, he hopped in with Hunter, who’d followed us, and rode off.
Huh.
Had my easy agreement shaken them more than I thought? Or were they giving me space?
I paused in the doorway, catching the feminine notes coming from the kitchen. Mom was home. She sat at the counter, nursing an entire giant mug of coffee. Purple bruising ringed her eyes.
I pulled my computer out to charge it. “You just getting off a double?”
Mom adjusted herself on the barstool, holding the brew in a two-handed grip as if she wanted to leech every bit of heat from the drink as possible. “Yes. Can you sit, Willa? I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”
Dad paused, glancing up from the grilled cheese he flipped. “Anne...”
Mom didn’t meet his gaze, and Dad remained silent.
What choice did I have?
I sat, placing three more of the protein bars in front of me with a mental note to restock my backpack.
Mom didn’t say anything right away, staring into the black surface of her drink as if waiting for a cue.
Dad broke the silence, putting on a tad extra cheer for good measure. “Well, Willy,” he chirped, ignoring my groaned protest at the boyish nickname, “how was school? Second day back. It looked like it went better.”
I cast him the doubtful look his comment deserved.
He held up his hands, spatula and all, in defense. “Hey, I’m just saying. You don’t seem as feral. Yesterday, you resembled a cornered raccoon.”
I sputtered, inhaling the bite of nougaty peanut butter, and coughs racked my body.
“Yes,” Mom tacked on, jumping on the topic. “How was it? Did everything go okay?”
I shrugged. “It was alright.”
She eyed my food. “Dinner is almost done. Your dad made homemade tomato soup.”
“Sweet! Sounds delicious.” I ignored her probing gaze as I opened the last protein bar.
“Hmm. Did you have an episode then?” she surmised.
“You’d know, wouldn’t you? You have my watch programmed to send you an auto-alert.”
“Willahelm Walker, why are you so prickly?”
I sighed because she was trying. “Sorry, Mom. What did you want to discuss?”
She straightened, seeming to prepare herself for battle.
“There was a psychiatrist at the hospital today.” The sweet gooeyness in my mouth transformed into ash.
Snack forgotten, I turned my full attention to her.
She soldiered on. “Dr. Harper visits the area from time to time. He asked me about local eateries, so I offered to buy him lunch to welcome him to the town. We were talking, and he specializes in unusual cases. I figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea for us to use that resource while he’s local. So what do you think?”
She’d finished the last of her statement in one breath, as if she didn’t blurt out her entire train of thought right then, it’d never be voiced.
I mean, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
Whatever Dad’s thoughts on the matter were, he kept them hidden behind a neutral expression.
“Are you saying I need therapy?” Even I was surprised by how dead my voice sounded.
Mom’s lips pursed. “Willa, you vanished in the dead of night, and you dragged one of your friends with you. He almost got a mark on his record.” How forward thinking of her not to place any blame on Ralph.
She wasn’t wrong per se, but weren’t moms supposed to assume the worst of other children first and live in denial that their own progeny weren’t perfect little angelic copies of all their best traits?
“You still haven’t explained why you were out or what you were doing!
And the group therapy sessions you had—”
“Mandatory ones. When I was locked up,” I reminded her.
“—you treated like a joke.”
It was hard to unpack so many bombshells dropped at once, so I focused on the thing that stood out. “How would you know? Wait, they gave you transcripts.”
“I’m a nurse, Willa. From medical personnel to—”
“They were supposed to be confidential.” The first tones of heat began threading into my words, clipping them harshly. The shock burned off faster.
“Well, what did you expect? After your incident there, they wished to be as transparent as possible about your time there, and they thought I could—”
“That you could what?” My sharp question halted her. “What could you do, Mom? It’s not a scraped knee you can throw a Band-Aid on.”
“Maybe not, but I am your mom with a medical background, and I know that all” —she waved in my direction— “this isn’t over yet. In fact, I’m worried it might just be starting.”
I gave a mirthless laugh. “Just be starting? All this? What does that even mean?”
Mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, forget I said that. It didn’t come out right.”
“A little hard to,” I retorted. “Tell me, do you see me as a basket case or some budding criminal walking a quick path to prison?”
“Neither!” she screeched. “But I think you need help. Professional help. You’re a danger to yourself.”
“And others around me,” I added, helpless but to make the leap when it seemed to be the only thing I worried about these days.
“What? Don’t put words in my mouth. I didn’t say you were a threat to that Buchanan boy.”
No, not Ralph. Not yet anyway. I meant Ben. He remained as an unending reminder that it might only be a matter of time.
Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision. I turned in Dad’s direction, even if I couldn’t see him. “May I be excused?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Robert—”
I didn’t wait to hear Mom’s protests. I raced from the kitchen and threw myself onto my bed, pulling the curtain shut and ignoring Nick’s questions.