I need a plan.
The covers feel like sandpaper. The walls creep forward as if they’re on wheels. The walls start to morph into shapes and devilish smiles. I scramble out of my room to the stairs, breathing heavy.
Where’s Colter? What time is it?
I didn’t look when I woke up. I always check the time in the morning; it’s part of what I do every day. I hadn’t stopped in the bathroom to get ready before coming down the stairs, either.
What’s wrong with me? I swallow hard and brace myself on the banister. They’re just stairs.
The air thickens and it’s hard to breathe, like I’m sucking in molasses and it’s oozing into my lungs. The stairs start pulling me into the floor, farther and deeper, until I’m sinking into the wood. It’s sticky and my feet drag as I try to get off the steps. Shadows emerge from the wall, clawing and trying to get inside me. I try to hold on to whatever I can find, but my hands come up empty. I’m suffocating again. Life’s crushing me, folding me, twisting my body. “Air,” I say weakly. “I need air.”
“Ellery?” Mom says, softly. “Are you okay, honey?”
Fighting to take a breath, I follow my heavy feet off the stairs toward her voice, yanking my legs from the liquid wood and closing my eyes to make the shadows disappear.
It’s not real. Alabama, Alaska, Arizona . . . Arkansas. Breath starts to flow into my lungs, lifting the thickness away as fast as it came.
The living room is bathed in the same dull hue as my walls, but the rays are tinted green, like the curtains. My heavy feet start to sink again when I see who is sitting on the couch across from my mom. He hasn’t changed since we saw each other last. His beard is trimmed more and his glasses are different—thicker and hipster-ish. He still wears those stupid brown loafers.
I shut my eyes and take a gulp of clear air. “Dr. Lamboni.”
49
Colter told. He really did it. My body doesn’t heat like I expected. It’s too tired from trying not to sink into the stairs.
Dr. Lamboni gives me a grim smile that says more than his gaze. His eyes are glazed over, like he’s had more coffee than food in the last twenty-four hours. “Hi, Ellery,” he says in that annoying, soft tone I remember too well.
“Honey, Dr. Lamboni just wants to talk to you,” my mom says, looking to the side of me, avoiding my eyes. She has a towel between her fingers she’s trying not to destroy.
She’s lying.
He nods in agreement with Mom. “I’m not here to make things worse for you. Please understand that. We only want to help.”
He told. Colter really told on me. Part of me never believed he was capable. No, maybe Mom found out some other way. He would never tell on me. He loves me. He knows what this would do to me. “What is this about?” I ask, somehow willing my voice to speak through the haze of dull color coating the room.
Mom pulls the towel once through her fingers—it’s the one with the big turkey from Thanksgiving. “Honey, he’s here to help you.” Her voice wavers and it’s then I notice the black tear streaks down her face. “Please sit.”
The room starts to spin, my weighted feet sink more, my heartbeats don’t know what to do. “Who told you?” I ask, hoping the answer isn’t Colter. Hoping the one person I trust more than anyone didn’t betray me. Didn’t break my heart more than it already is.
“That’s not important.”
“It’s Colter, though. He’s the only one it could be.”
Dr. Lamboni takes a breath, but doesn’t say anything. The words are written all over his tanned face.
Numb from my toes to my hair, I grab the side of the couch and take a seat next to my mom. I stare at the stripes painted on the wall while they talk about how long my hospital visit will be, how long I’ll be required to have someone around me, the rules.
Mom cries. Dr. Lamboni soothes her in that soft voice, the patronizing one he used on me. She covers her face with her hands, the only time she drops the towel.
“We have to tell her father. He should be here,” Mom says to him.
“No,” I say, with the only conviction I have left. “I don’t want to see him. If you call him, I’ll find a way to do it. Don’t you dare,” I scream. I pick up the lamp and throw it hard across the room. It shatters against the sunshine walls and it feels familiar, like the time I tore my posters off the wall and shredded them. “He’s not ever coming near me again!” I yell and pick up the matching lamp on the other end table, arching my arm so I can bash it against the wall when a sharp jerk pops me out of my rage. I’m breathing hard, and the hand with the lamp in it is trembling, threatening to drop the contents to the floor. Before I can blink, the lamp is swiftly removed from my grip and I’m grabbed by the other arm. Dr. Lamboni keeps a tight grip on me and gently guides me toward the chair in the corner.
Mom widens her eyes, and the shock and surprise on her face knocks me out of my numbness.