It takes her a long while to turn to me, like the words took a winding road to get into her brain. When she does, her neatly shaped brows are knitted together above her pert nose. “Oh, Chloe! I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Perhaps she needs to rest,” her mother says. “Come on, Julien. Let’s go back to your room.”
“No, not yet,” she says, looking at me though her words are for her mom. “Will you get me something to drink Mom?”
“Sure, sweetie,” Mrs. Miller says, but I don’t miss her hesitation to leave us alone. Maggie and I both try to give her a reassuring smile.
Once she’s gone, I look at Julien. “You were talking about the Wicked Witch. You mean the one at our school, don’t you?”
Her mouth thins into an angry line. “She tells me how to sit and how to breathe. In and out and one, two, three.”
“Right,” I say. I pause to give Maggie a meaningful look, but she doesn’t seem convinced of anything other than Julien’s heaping pile of absolutely crazy.
“I don’t like her,” Julien says. She’s petulant, bottom lip jutting out. “Sometimes I think she’s real, but maybe she’s just in the movie.”
“The Wizard of Oz?” Maggie asks.
“No. This movie. The same one I’m in,” Julien says. Now she doesn’t look crazy at all. She looks like a girl trapped in a glass jar. She sees exactly where she is and what’s happening, and there’s not a damn thing she can do to change it.
Then Julien presses her hands to her face and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter because I can’t remember. I can’t remember at all.”
My whole body goes tense. I lean away from Julien, heart pounding. Is this what’s coming for me next? Is this what I’m going to turn into?
Julien uncovers her face, and it’s like nothing happened. She’s smiling and perky and groomed within an inch of her life. She’s the Julien without any dark secrets or mind-altering medications. “So how about you and Blake? You still a thing?”
“Uh…sure,” I say, because I can’t even get into a breakup. Not here. Not with her.
“I dated him once, you know. Back in freshman year. But I’ve got to say, he was never as attentive with me. You must have the magic touch.”
“Must have.”
“I think I’m going to wear red to prom.” Julien looks at us, biting her lip. “Do you think only sluts wear red?”
Mrs. Miller appears with a mug of tea, and I don’t know about Maggie, but I’m about to fling myself into her arms I’m so grateful to see her. “How are we doing, girls? Julien, here’s your tea. Just like you like it.”
She offers it to her in front of me, and I catch a whiff. Lemon and herbs and something familiar in the worst kind of way. I lurch back and hold my breath, not wanting to smell it again and having no idea why I’m being so weird.
“I hate t-to cut this short, b-but we really have to get going,” Maggie says, and her eyes are on me. She’s worried.
I press my hands to my cheeks and try to calm down. “Right. I totally forgot. Your mom is meeting us at the station.”
Julien is back to that blank stare. Her mom notices and comes closer, stroking her hair gently. “Julien? Your friends are leaving, honey.”
Her face contorts, and for one second, I see the terrified confusion she’s living in. Her eyes are wild, searching the room. “Wait, I didn’t—there’s something—”
She trails off and all but jumps off the couch. She starts pacing then, pulling away from her mother’s efforts to soothe her. “Don’t! I have to say this—I have to remember—”
“She’s just a little upset. I’m sure she’s glad you came by,” Mrs. Miller says, that plastic smile melting around her obvious discomfort.
“No! I have to tell them!”
Mrs. Miller glances at us a little desperately. “Please know it’s nothing you said. It’s just the sickness.”
“I’m not sick!” For one second, Mrs. Miller goes pale and tight. “I’m not sick, and you know it! I…I…” Julien trails off, pressing her temples with both fingers and looking dazed. Then she meets my eyes. “Help me, Chloe. Please.”
My heart skips three beats. Maybe four. Whatever icy thing is moving through me now, it’s bigger than fear. Way bigger.
“Girls, thank you so much for coming. Do you think you can find your way to the door?”
I try to nod or speak, but I can’t do anything. I can’t tear my eyes away from Julien. She’s watching me with a look that will haunt me forever if I don’t do something. But I have no idea what. Or how.
“Thank you for having us,” Maggie says softly.
I can’t say anything at all. I can’t even wave. Instead, I let Maggie pull me through this strange mismatched house. I hold on tight to her arm, grateful that she knows the way.
Chapter Twenty-three
Outside, the sky is still blue. Maggie and I do not belong in this sunny day. We are white as sheets as we make our way down the stairs that lead away from the front door. We pause at the street, looking a little lost.
“What now?” I ask. Our cab is long gone.
“Now, we g-get the hell out of here. We’ll walk back t-to the main road and call a cab.”
Overhead, a seagull cries happily. I feel my eyes welling up, my throat getting tight. “Is that going to happen to me?”
“No.” She turns back to me, finger up, looking angry. “D-don’t you go there. Not even for a second. D-do you hear me? Julien is sick, Chloe. Like really sick.”
“I know. I know that. But when she grabbed my hands, I remembered what she was talking about. Dr. Kirkpatrick was in that study group telling us how to breathe.”
“So what if she was? I mean, I know it’s creepy, and yes, you all t-turned into freaking robots—”
“So what if somehow that creepy stuff turned Julien into this? If I remember what they did, maybe I can help her. I have to remember, Mags.”
She settles a cool hand on my shoulder. “No, you don’t. Chloe, it’s schizophrenia, okay? That’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.”
I can’t believe this. I throw up my hands in disgust. “So that’s it. Julien is sick and somehow that means Dr. Kirkpatrick is innocent?”
“I d-didn’t say that. I’m just saying she didn’t have anything to d-do with this. And we shouldn’t either.”
I know she’s right. There isn’t a single logical explanation for anyone causing schizophrenia. But still, I can’t stop thinking about her flashes of sanity. Sometimes, the lunatic shutters cracked open, and I could see the completely normal girl trapped behind them.
“Let’s just get back,” Maggie says, interrupting my thoughts.
I nod, scrubbing at my eyes with the back of my hands. We’re just walking down the sidewalk when I hear a faint tapping from the house behind us. Maggie’s glancing around, so I know she’s heard it too. We search the scrubby yard and the palm tree, and then finally the house itself.
Julien.
She’s standing at one of the windows upstairs, making a motion with her arms.
“Is she drawing something?” I ask. “Why doesn’t she just open the window?”
“Maybe they won’t open,” Maggie says. “Maybe they think it’d be t-too risky.”
I ignore Maggie and shake my head. I try to look as confused as I can, hoping Julien will somehow manage to read my body language.
“Let’s j-just go.”
“No! She asked me to help, Mags.”
In the window, Julien tosses her hair. She’s frustrated, I think. And then she’s just gone. Maybe she sat down or walked away, but it doesn’t matter. The window is empty, and there is no saving happening here. Not today.
I turn back to the road, where Maggie’s already walking, but the tapping comes again. Julien, of course. She’s just watching us, palms pressed to the glass and a desperate look in her eyes. Like she’s waiting for me to do something.
“What d-does she want?” Maggie asks.
I sigh and push my hair behind my ears. “I don’t know. You were right. We should go.”
***
“I just don’t know what she meant with all that Wicked Witch stuff,” I say, doodling a cartoon of a stick figure on a broomstick on the paper place mat beneath my burger and fries.