Get Well Soon (12 page)
Authors: Julie Halpern
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Depression & Mental Illness, #Love & Romance
AFTER DINNER
As Lawrence is on permanent room restriction for hitting Eugene, he never comes down to dinner. This is good because it gives the rest of us plenty of time to talk about him.
Troy, who has finally been let out of his hallway desk, had some insight since he shares a room with Lawrence. “The guy’s a freak. And he reeks. Hey, that rhymes.” OOOK. Profound words from one of the great minds of the twenty-first century.
“Isn’t anyone else just a little afraid of him?” I asked.
“I am,” Colby answered, but we all knew that already. “What if he eats Morgan?”
“Morgan’s just a doll,” Matt O. answered.
“And a plastic one at that. Do satanists eat plastic dolls? I didn’t know that was part of their belief system.” I couldn’t help but crack a smile. The thought of Lawrence sitting down at a table with a fork and knife, checkered napkin tucked into his shirt, carving a plastic doll, was too genius.
And speaking of genius, “What’s everyone talking about?”
I should probably mention that Callie was eating with us. She was definitely toned down from the skankiness presented when she first arrived. Her clothes were still tight, which should have bothered me, except that she was wearing giant white leather high-tops. So sick. When I saw those I knew she couldn’t possibly be an All Star–wearing girl like Justin’s type. Besides, Justin hasn’t looked at or said a word to her since we got here, unless he did in Group when I wasn’t around. What if he professed his love to her, and I don’t even know it? Coincidentally, her presence also explains why there haven’t been any elevator innuendo stories to tell. Now that there are several girls who can ride in the elevator, we ride separately from the boys. Isn’t that illegal? I mean, segregation and all.
I should probably mention that Callie was eating with us. She was definitely toned down from the skankiness presented when she first arrived. Her clothes were still tight, which should have bothered me, except that she was wearing giant white leather high-tops. So sick. When I saw those I knew she couldn’t possibly be an All Star–wearing girl like Justin’s type. Besides, Justin hasn’t looked at or said a word to her since we got here, unless he did in Group when I wasn’t around. What if he professed his love to her, and I don’t even know it? Coincidentally, her presence also explains why there haven’t been any elevator innuendo stories to tell. Now that there are several girls who can ride in the elevator, we ride separately from the boys. Isn’t that illegal? I mean, segregation and all.
And isn’t it interesting how the smallest details can make or break a person’s attractiveness factor? For example, Troy was totally hot to me when I first got to the hospital, but the second he gave himself white-boy dreads, I lost all interest. That, plus the fact that the reason he’s here is because he started a white supremacist group at his school after his black girlfriend dumped him. What I don’t get is why then would he want white-boy dreads? Maybe that’s part of his treatment: getting back to his roots. Or his ex-girlfriend’s roots.
Callie, who I assumed was going to be the floor hottie with her perfect bod and general hoochiness, turned out to be a generic dud with hideous footwear. Never mind the fact that, according
to our town gossip, Matt O., Callie’s a klepto and a compulsive liar. I better keep an eye on my eraser-less pencils. One never knows when a lying klepto may strike. I’m trying to assume that Justin has the same negative opinion that I do, but what if he really wasn’t looking at her or talking to her because he was playing hard to get and at night he has wet dreams about her? I think I will forever be traumatized by sex ed movies.
to our town gossip, Matt O., Callie’s a klepto and a compulsive liar. I better keep an eye on my eraser-less pencils. One never knows when a lying klepto may strike. I’m trying to assume that Justin has the same negative opinion that I do, but what if he really wasn’t looking at her or talking to her because he was playing hard to get and at night he has wet dreams about her? I think I will forever be traumatized by sex ed movies.
AFTER FREE TIME
Tra-la-la! Tonight I played Hearts with Justin, Matt O., and Sandy. Morgan just watched. I am getting quite good at the game. I watched Justin’s scarred hand as he dealt the cards. I wonder if he’ll ever tell me what happened.
Sandy is terrible at cards, since every time she tries to concentrate she has to lay Morgan on the table. Then Eugene or Bettina sees her and tells her that’s no way to treat a baby, and she has to forfeit.
Tonight the TV was on, Sean’s choice, and he watched a nature program about lions. I wasn’t facing the TV, but Sandy was. Every time a lion did something she thought was gross, like rip apart a gazelle or have sex, she would wince and cover Morgan’s plastic eyes. I faced the other end of the Day Room, where Phil, Callie, and Troy sat. It was darker over there, and I began to notice a proximity discrepancy. That is to say: Troy and Callie were touching. Phil, of course, was watching. It was very
subtle, which I think is why it took everybody a while to catch on. Callie and Troy kept their eyes on the TV, but I watched as their hands slowly crept towards one another’s legs. I think we got through two rounds of Hearts before they made actual contact.
subtle, which I think is why it took everybody a while to catch on. Callie and Troy kept their eyes on the TV, but I watched as their hands slowly crept towards one another’s legs. I think we got through two rounds of Hearts before they made actual contact.
Justin noticed me. “What are you looking at?”
“Don’t turn your head,” I said. “Callie and Troy are getting it on in the corner.”
“What?” And he automatically turned. “They’re not ‘getting it on,’” he said.
“I know. I just wanted to say ‘getting it on.’ But they
are
touching.”
are
touching.”
He looked again. “Hmmm,” he turned to me. “Whose turn is it to deal?”
Justin wasn’t interested, but I still was. I was amazed that for some people it is just so natural to be sexy and sexual and rebellious. I am so not able to be any of those things. God, I could have sat next to Justin for a hundred years, and I would never have gotten the nerve to even assume he would want to touch me. But there they were, having known each other only two days, and not even having an opportunity to talk or plan to hook up, and they were just groping away in the corner. Does that make me immature, or just a total feeb? When I finally become “mature” will I just know how to kiss and know when a guy likes me and know where to touch him and when?
And then I felt something. It was on my shoe. At first I thought I was kicking a table leg, which always happens with my big feet. But I wasn’t moving my foot, and something was moving against my shoe. First the front rubber part was tapped, and then there was definite friction along the side of the shoe. And then I felt a pant leg against my pant leg (or is it pants leg? Oh, who cares at this point!). We were still in the middle of a card game, but I knew who it was. The shoe being rubbed was my left shoe, and on my left sat Justin. The movement, the touching, was so slow that I didn’t think anyone else noticed. I began to move my leg farther out and farther left, so he knew I was reciprocating. Slowly, slowly he crossed his foot over mine, and our legs locked. We would never have gotten away with holding hands at Lake Shit, so there we were, holding legs. Matt O. won the game. “Man, you guys bit that game!” And then, “Holy shit!” We all turned to see what he saw. Callie and Troy were seriously making out, with Phil just chuckling and watching. In two seconds, Eugene yanked Troy off of Callie and dragged him into the hallway. Quickly, Justin and I unhooked our legs. Bettina yelled, “Free Time’s over. Go back to your rooms. Callie, come with me.” Somberly we all walked back to our rooms. I wanted to grab Justin’s pinky like he did to me once, to let him know how much I enjoyed being with him, but I was afraid if I did, someone would see and they would separate us like Callie and Troy. I wonder if I’ll ever get to touch Justin the way Callie
and Troy touched each other. God. I wonder if I’ll ever be allowed to touch anyone ever again.
and Troy touched each other. God. I wonder if I’ll ever be allowed to touch anyone ever again.
AFTER RELAXATION
Tonight was hilariously unrelaxing. I placed my pillow gently, ever so gently, on the floor. The music of choice for the evening was the smooth sound of Michael Bolton. Nast.
There we were, pretending to be relaxed, while all I could think about was the hair on Justin’s face and the feeling of his pant leg. Sandy was next to me, with Morgan, of course. Tanya was there, and Callie and Abby. It was a regular girls’ slumber party, without the actual slumbering or even the hint of a party. The music was blaring away, “
Bwa-wa-wa.
” Groan. Then someone in the room played a horn of their own.
Tooooot!
If you know what I mean. And if you don’t—someone farted.
Bwa-wa-wa.
” Groan. Then someone in the room played a horn of their own.
Tooooot!
If you know what I mean. And if you don’t—someone farted.
Callie sat up quickly and was like, “What? You guys say anything, and I’ll kick your ass!” It was so funny that we were rolling on the floor laughing. Even Flora was laughing hysterically. I wonder how Troy will feel when he learns his woman can’t control her gas.
AFTER BREAKFAST
Weird. You know how Callie said not to tell anyone about her unexpected expellation yesterday? I don’t know who told, but all of the boys were giggling about it at breakfast. Callie didn’t
eat anything, and Troy tried to console her. “It’s OK, baby, it’s OK,” like some tragedy happened. This was the proof to what I have already told you: No one forgets a farter. What’s so wondrously wonderful is that the farter wasn’t me. At least not this time …
eat anything, and Troy tried to console her. “It’s OK, baby, it’s OK,” like some tragedy happened. This was the proof to what I have already told you: No one forgets a farter. What’s so wondrously wonderful is that the farter wasn’t me. At least not this time …
In other news, Troy reported that this morning, instead of his newly reformed praying to God, Lawrence was back to praying to Satan. “That God shit wasn’t working for him. I mean, Abby wasn’t going for it, so he gave up on it. So it’s all your fault, Abby, if he kills me in my sleep.”
“Huh? What? Nuh-uh,” was all Abby managed to spit out, along with some sprays of Cocoa Puffs.
“Hey, Abby,” Phil asked, “how come you haven’t had a seizure since you’ve been here? I want to see you talk like the devil!”
“Shut up, Phil. I don’t choose when I have a seizure. It just, like, happens.”
“Well, just let me know if you think you’re gonna have one so I can come watch.”
Nice. I really hope she never has a seizure when I’m around. I’ve never seen anyone have a seizure. I wouldn’t know what to do. They haven’t prepared us here either. Even if they did and Abby has a seizure, and I’m expected to help her, what if I can’t? To tell you the truth, remember when we were both signed up for a CPR course last summer? And I called you and told you I had diarrhea and couldn’t go? The truth is that I chickened out.
I was afraid that if I learned how to do CPR and then I was in a situation where I was expected to use it, I would screw it up and make a person die. I know—totally irrational, since trying would be better than not trying and knowing would be better than not knowing. But it’s someone else’s life, you know? Back to Abby—I just hope that someone in this hospital is actually trained in medicine and not just on how to prevent kids from touching each other.
I was afraid that if I learned how to do CPR and then I was in a situation where I was expected to use it, I would screw it up and make a person die. I know—totally irrational, since trying would be better than not trying and knowing would be better than not knowing. But it’s someone else’s life, you know? Back to Abby—I just hope that someone in this hospital is actually trained in medicine and not just on how to prevent kids from touching each other.
It would be kind of weird if Abby doesn’t have one of her seizures while she’s here. My panic attacks (knock on wood, as my mom always says) have almost stopped completely. Colby hasn’t heard any voices lately (as far as I know), and Abby … Could the medications they have us on be working? Or has being taken out of our normal life context changed us completely? What happens when we go back?
AFTER SCHOOL (SPECIAL!)
School was so lovey-dovey today. The “teacher” let Justin show me some of the blueprints he drew for an architecture class he has at real school. We sat next to each other on a bench, our jean-covered thighs touching. He leaned over numerous times to point things out, and every time he did I inhaled him. I think I was giving off some sort of hormonal force field, because the teacher told me it was time to go back to my own desk.
It’s times like those when I just want to scream my head off to some really loud music. Punk. Cheesy ’80s metal. I’d even blast
The Doors. I need to get out all of this pent-up … aggression? Tension? Lust? I’m going crazy! I mean, I have obviously liked guys before (see: The Erik Johnson Debacle), but nothing was ever tangible (in the abstract sense, of course). The actuality of it all is so intense! I can’t get close to Justin anymore. I want us to touch
so badly.
My desire is so overwhelming I’m sure people can see it emanating from my body. Why oh why can’t we have music here to help relieve the pressure? Why can’t I sing when I want to? I must get it out or I will explode!
The Doors. I need to get out all of this pent-up … aggression? Tension? Lust? I’m going crazy! I mean, I have obviously liked guys before (see: The Erik Johnson Debacle), but nothing was ever tangible (in the abstract sense, of course). The actuality of it all is so intense! I can’t get close to Justin anymore. I want us to touch
so badly.
My desire is so overwhelming I’m sure people can see it emanating from my body. Why oh why can’t we have music here to help relieve the pressure? Why can’t I sing when I want to? I must get it out or I will explode!
MINUTES LATER …
I have a plan. I’m going to get myself into the Quiet Room. If I get myself into the Quiet Room then I can sing anything I want as loudly as I want to. With the floor so small and the walls so thin, it’s just known and accepted that if you go into the Quiet Room you turn into a wild, raging performer for the whole floor. That’s what I have to do. But how will I get in?
AFTER LUNCH
Some regular Quiet Room customers are acting as my advisors on my new plan. Matt O. suggested running down the halls naked. He figured that’d be good for at least a couple of hours in the QR, but I figured he just wanted to see a naked girl (especially after being locked up for six months. I wonder if he’s seen a naked girl before?). Troy suggested I hit Abby over the head with a chair, but I thought that might cause me to be confined to
a desk in the hall again. Not to mention I’ve never hit anyone in the head with a chair. Or without a chair. Oy.
a desk in the hall again. Not to mention I’ve never hit anyone in the head with a chair. Or without a chair. Oy.
“I don’t want to actually get in trouble,” I said. “I just want to go to the Quiet Room.”
“What’s so bad about getting in trouble?” Troy asked.
I couldn’t tell him the real reasons I didn’t want to get in trouble. It’s embarrassing to tell a group of kids who hit people and escape from boarding school that I’ve never gotten in trouble a day in my life, and I’m too afraid to start now. So I said, “I don’t want to have to eat lunch in my room or in the hall. They never bring up the good food.” Which was sort of true, although the real reason I didn’t want to miss meals was because then I’d also be missing Justin.
“What about asking?” That was Justin’s suggestion. “Maybe they’d let you go in if you asked.”
Hmmm. Beautiful and brilliant. I think I’ll try it.
AFTER GROUP
Group gets more and more useless the longer I am here. We never really talk about our families or our problems from home. It’s always about some issue we’re having at Lake Shit, like Eugene explaining why the No Touching rule is so important now that there has been a “breach,” as he called it. In order to get points, we’re supposed to say how the incident with Callie and Troy made us feel. But it’s not like we could tell the truth and get any points. There was no way that if I said, “Seeing Callie and
Troy made me kind of jealous and made me want to do the exact same thing with Justin, and I think the rule sucks,” that I would’ve gotten any points. I don’t know how anyone around here gets enough points to make it to Level III. Except for Matt O. Did I tell you he is now a permanent Level III? Somehow his “doctor” decided that he needed more positive reinforcement, so every week he is the only Level III and gets to have a Friday night pizza party all by himself. If I could make it to Level III, I’d get a pizza party and a field trip. Matt O. only gets a field trip if there is another Level III to go with him. Pizza. Man, I miss pizza almost as much as I miss music. And a field trip? Actually leaving the building? I wonder if I would burn up from the contact with the sun.
Troy made me kind of jealous and made me want to do the exact same thing with Justin, and I think the rule sucks,” that I would’ve gotten any points. I don’t know how anyone around here gets enough points to make it to Level III. Except for Matt O. Did I tell you he is now a permanent Level III? Somehow his “doctor” decided that he needed more positive reinforcement, so every week he is the only Level III and gets to have a Friday night pizza party all by himself. If I could make it to Level III, I’d get a pizza party and a field trip. Matt O. only gets a field trip if there is another Level III to go with him. Pizza. Man, I miss pizza almost as much as I miss music. And a field trip? Actually leaving the building? I wonder if I would burn up from the contact with the sun.
The other discussion during Group today was that there have been a number of incidents lately that created a “violent air” to the floor. According to Eugene—and he looked right at Lawrence—“This needs to stop.” Lawrence is such a total freak that he smiled a big, dark grin at Eugene. His gums showed, and I want to say they looked like my old German shepherd’s gums, all black and slimy. I might be making that up, though.
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