Part of me wishes I could tell Holly the truth. Mom and I covered up my absences saying I had mono and then bronchitis with a series of relapses. I wasn’t really sick, at least not in the way where you eventually get better or die. I just found out my brain was poorly designed. It won’t kill me, but I can’t get right again since I was never right in the first place. I was born with faulty parts. My brain just didn’t turn them on till I became a teenager, right around the time I blew up with Annie.
But I can’t let anyone know what really happened, or what’s wrong with me. I can’t bear the thought of how they’d look at me, and treat me, if they knew how many pills I take every morning just to act more or less like everybody else.
HAMSTER IS STUMBLING
HUMMINGBIRD IS PERCHED
HAMMERHEAD IS CRUISING
HANNIGANIMAL IS DOWN
In Chemistry on Tuesday, Zumi doesn’t move for the whole fifty-four minutes. At the end, when it’s time to collect homework, she doesn’t touch her backpack. Mr. Gottfried asks her about it and she ignores him. He tells her to stay after the bell rings. I wait outside but they take a long time and I finally leave for my next class.
At lunch I find Connor on the brick wall again. This time Zumi’s with him, sitting a few feet away. They’re staring off in different directions. I want to walk over, but no. I don’t think that would make her feel good. I just try to take it as a positive sign that at least she’s back to spending more time with Connor.
When I get to the Silver Sands after school, Dr. Jordan is talking to Judith at the reception desk. He stops when he notices me. I don’t know what he sees but he comes over.
“You want to talk about it?”
“I talk to you too much. You’re not my doctor.”
“I’m glad. If I were, I couldn’t do this.”
He pulls me in for a tight hug, his arms completely around me. I’m chilled from the ride over—too much coasting through cold air on a cloudy day without enough pedaling—and he’s warm from being inside. I hold on, wondering if I’ll melt if I stay this way long enough.
“I’m your friend. I’ll listen if you want to talk.”
“Maybe later. Just one of those days.”
After giving Ms. Arguello her orange juice, I take a deep breath and then breeze through the Beachfront Lounge, waving and smiling at everyone, pretending not to see Mr. Terrance Knight’s hopeful expression. I’ll give him a song today, just not yet.
After an hour of bustling I can’t think of anything else to tidy up. I help Ms. Arguello ball up skeins of yarn and listen to her talk about her grandson’s new job. When I run out of ways to put off singing with Mr. Terrance Knight, I step outside to charge up first. I sit on the steps, out of sight of reception, and massage my cheeks. So much smiling …
“Hey.”
I look up, startled. David’s standing over me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Um, yeah. Just felt like, you know …”
“Like sitting out in the cold, looking at the gray sky?”
“Yep. I didn’t know you were here.”
“We were back in her room. Do you want to be alone?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“If you really came out to be by yourself, you don’t have to pretend you didn’t.”
I’m squinting up at him—it’s overcast but still bright out.
“Did you?” he asks.
I blink. “Did I what?”
“Come out here to get away from everyone?”
“Maybe just certain people.”
David sits on the step below me. “Mr. Knight told me you were hiding from him.”
I tense up.
“I said it probably wasn’t him specifically, but he said no, he’s been on God’s green earth for eighty-three years and knows a thing or two about people—”
“I have to go—”
“Wait, that’s not all.” David climbs up to the step next to me. “He also said he just knows it means you’re sad. He said, ‘I encourage her to sing to lift her spirits. Where the voice goes, the heart follows.’”
David tries to say it in Mr. Terrance Knight’s buttery voice.
I smile. “What else did he say?”
“Just that he wishes you didn’t think you needed to hide when you’re feeling low.”
“Hmph. It’s my job to bring everyone up, not down.”
“Is that the only reason you’re here? Because it’s your job?”
“No.”
“I get the impression in there that if you smiled less, nobody would wish you’d stop coming around.”
“You’re awfully new here to know so much.”
“Getting to know people quickly is a perk of avoiding small talk.” He pauses. “So is this random sadness, or is something bothering you?”
I’m not used to being asked that by people I barely know. It feels like the sun coming out.
“Maybe a bit of both.”
“Is it personal, or …?”
“It’s … Some friends of mine are having a hard time.”
He leans back against the steps. “Bake them cookies.”
I smirk. “I don’t think that’ll help.”
“Oatmeal raisin.”
“Yuck! Raisins in cookies are broken promises. Worse, it’s betrayal.”
“They’ll appreciate the thought. And if they don’t like how they taste, I’ll eat them.”
“Okay, so you don’t eat bacon, you do eat gross cookies, and you give me advice to help my friends that really helps you.”
“I thought everybody could win. They’d be happy you baked them something, you’d feel good about making them happy, and I’d get cookies.”
“Nice try.”