My pulse picked up. I’d known from the moment I laid eyes on this woman that she wasn’t as easy as my usual mark. And now I was stuck in this room with her, which seemed to be getting smaller with each passing second, for another half an hour.
“Do you think you could tell me what you were talking about with the other students during your lunch period yesterday?” she asked.
She was a psychologist; she would expect me to exhibit more signs of trauma than I usually bothered with. I looked back at the door to the office and then down at the ground, tucking my hands between my thighs and the seat of the chair.
“I’d like to call my sister,” I said softly.
“Of course,” Dr. Singh said, “but first, can we talk for a minute? We don’t need to talk about anything you’re not ready to. I just want to make sure you’re adjusting to being back at school all right. How about you tell me how that’s going?”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“How are your classes?”
“Fine.” I bit my lip. “I like my art class.”
“Are you getting along with the other students?”
“I guess,” I said. “Most of them just ignore me.”
“Is that why you told them that story at lunch yesterday?” she asked. “You didn’t want them to ignore you anymore?”
“Danny?” A muffled voice spoke in the hallway. Someone said, “Excuse me!” in a sharp tone, and then the door to Dr. Singh’s office was opening. Lex stood behind it like an avenging angel, beautiful and terrifying.
“What the hell are you doing?” she said to Dr. Singh.
“Ms. McConnell, come in,” Dr. Singh said, rising from her chair. “I was just—”
“You’re not supposed to be talking to my brother,” Lex said. She pulled me up from my chair and away from Dr. Singh. Her hands were shaking. “He’s been abused and traumatized and the last thing he needs is to be questioned about it by—”
“I’m sorry you’re upset, Ms. McConnell,” Dr. Singh said with perfect calmness, “but I’m just trying to do my job, which is to ensure that Danny is reintegrating into the school environment. I assure you, that’s the only subject we were discussing.”
“Our mother was very clear on this subject,” Lex said. “Danny just wants to be treated normally—”
“And he skipped school yesterday,” Singh said. “This is only what I’d do with any other student who’d done the same thing.”
Lex’s shoulders started to slump. She was ill suited to conflict under the best conditions, and now her righteous anger was wilting under Dr. Singh’s patient onslaught of logic.
“I have to be allowed to do my job, Ms. McConnell,” Dr. Singh continued. “Don’t you agree?”
“Well, yes,” Lex said, “but—”
“Please, Ms. McConnell.” Dr. Singh stepped toward us, and although she was several inches shorter than Lex, she seemed to tower over her. “Have a seat, and we’ll speak privately for a moment. Danny, how about you go wait in the outer office with Mrs. Day?”
I shot Lex a look, and she nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute, Danny.”
I wanted to protest, but I didn’t know how without looking suspicious, and then Dr. Singh was closing the door on me and it was too late. What were they going to talk about? Mrs. Day was waiting for me at the end of the hallway, and I wondered how much she’d overheard. I started to walk toward her before I noticed the restroom across from Dr. Singh’s office.
“I’ve got to pee,” I said.
Mrs. Day frowned but nodded. I stood inside the restroom, door cracked, waiting. Less than a minute later I heard the ding that signaled someone entering the outer office, a person Mrs. Day would have to go deal with. I left the restroom, crossed the hall, and pressed my ear against the door of Dr. Singh’s office. The odds of me getting caught were high, but I had to know what was being said in there.
“. . . know this is hard to hear,” Dr. Singh was saying in a low tone, “but I’m very concerned about Danny. He’s not acting the way I would expect someone who’s been through what he has to be acting. I cannot overstate how important I think it is that Danny be seeing someone—a mental health professional—regularly. Daily.”
“I think he’s doing pretty well, considering,” Lex said.
“He’s doing extremely well. That’s what concerns me. I see signs of trauma, but nothing like what I’d expect from someone in his position,” she said. “Either he’s expending a tremendous amount of energy to repress his feelings, which will only cause him more problems down the line, or . . .”
The silence in the office was deafening.
“What are you trying to say?” Lex asked.
“I know it’s not my place,” Dr. Singh said, “but I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t . . .”
“What?”
The counselor’s voice dropped even further, until I could barely make out the words.
“Are you absolutely sure that boy is your brother?”
? ? ?
Fuck.
? ? ?
“Danny.”
I jumped back from the door and found the secretary looking at me sternly. Stomach churning, I went to the outer office and took a seat, letting her watch me over her paperwork until Lex returned. Only the watery feeling in my legs kept me from running.
Are you sure that boy is your brother?
Was she?
For the first time, I really thought about prison, as a reality and not just an abstract threat. The thought of being locked up filled me with horror, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, it wasn’t that different from a lot of the care homes I’d jumped through hoops to have the pleasure of staying in, and I’d always held my own against the delinquents and criminals who populated them. There had been entire years of my life where three square meals a day and a roof over my head, even if I was behind bars, would have been welcome. Some part of me had always suspected that’s where I’d end up eventually, if I was lucky. So maybe being caught wouldn’t be that bad.
Except being caught meant the Tates finding out I was a fake, and I was surprised to discover that that thought bothered me the most. I couldn’t stop picturing it. Mia would cry. Patrick would punch me. Nicholas would hate me forever, and Lex would never recover. I didn’t . . . I didn’t want that for them. They didn’t deserve it.
Lex emerged from the hallway. I stood, my pulse pounding hot in my head, waiting for her to look at me in horror or scream or something. But she didn’t. She hardly looked at me at all, and maybe that was worse.
“Come on,” she said to me. She’d only talked with Singh, but it looked like she’d been knocked around. Her face was pale and clammy and her hair was mussed. She struggled to get the strap of her purse back over her shoulder. “We’re going.”
I followed Lex out of the school and toward her car, scrutinizing her every movement for some clue of what she was thinking. She didn’t say anything, just dug into her purse and popped a couple of mints into her mouth from the tin she always carried. We climbed into the car, where the air was as stifling as the silence. Lex let go of a big sigh and melted back into her seat, eyes closed, and stayed that way for a long time. I sat tensely beside her, waiting for her to do . . . something.
Then, with no warning, she sat up, cranked the AC, put on her sunglasses, and said, “What a bitch. Want some ice cream?”