“I’ll be back this evening with a new prescription,” said Dr. Blanche. “But you’ll need to eat something. It’s important to your recovery, Cassidy.”
I glowered at her as the orderly wheeled me past. The halls of Maven Brown Psychological Treatment Facility were a labyrinth of bleached color and gave me an instant headache. I stared down at my lap as the orderly whisked me through a series of right turns.
“Patient for the visitor center,” he said, pulling us to a stop at a sliding glass window. Something was exchanged. The orderly then lifted my limp wrist and buttoned a plastic hospital bracelet around it.
The window slid shut again and I was greeted with the whoosh of automatic doors that split down the middle to let me through.
“Enjoy your visit, Miss Hyde.” The orderly parked me in front of a square table where pieces of a jigsaw puzzle were scattered.
“Hi, honey.” My mother smiled wanly from across the table. A few pieces of the jigsaw puzzle were stuck together. They formed the eye of a kitten. The tip of a tail. Half of an ear.
“You look…” My father laced his fingers through my mother’s and their hands disappeared under the table. “… good.”
I scoffed.
“You know, we’ve been checking in more than once a day, Cassidy. This is the first time they would let us in to see you. You’ve had a friend here, too, from school. Lena, I think?” My eyes flitted into focus. “She keeps insisting she should be let in to see you, but it’s only family for now, I’m afraid.” I offered a curt nod. “Sweet of her to care so much.” Mom tilted her head, the crow’s-feet around her eyes stretching clear to her temples. “Are they treating you well? Are you getting enough to eat? No one’s being mean to you, are they?”
“It’s a regular Disneyland,” I replied.
My father frowned. His face was exhausted, but I could still spot our resemblance. “I’m afraid they’re only giving us a short time together so early … in your treatment. So we’ll have to get right down to the reason they allowed us to talk in the first place.”
My father reached underneath his seat and slid out a manila envelope. From it, he pulled a stack of papers and pushed them across the table, spinning the stack around so that the pages would face me right side up.
My mother reached across the table and laid her hand over the stack. “First, your lawyer assures us that this is the scariest part. After this, it’ll be our turn to start piecing together a case, Cassidy, and I can promise you we’ve hired the best. They believe your actions, given the circumstances, were completely justifiable.”
“Mom’s right. The lawyers said it’s not too much to expect very little, if any, hard time. There are precedents for things like this. Battered wife syndrome. Self-defense. That sort. Really, your mom’s becoming quite the expert.”
My mother retracted her hand and sat back. “So … just keep that in mind.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear and pulled the papers closer. A tremor of impatience passed through me as I felt them focusing on all the wrong things.
My father shifted in his chair and it made a loud screech. “Sorry,” he said nervously. “It’s just that it does seem bad at the moment. Facing four charges of first-degree murder. And—” He coughed into his fist. “And the case of assault with intent to maim, kill, or dismember.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Four charges of murder?”
My father’s chin dropped. “Yes, I’m afraid one of the other boys died at the hospital … after. It’s all in there.” He waved at the papers. “Alex … McClung.”
I sucked in a sharp take of air and dug my fingernails into my palms. I teetered on the verge of losing it. So Tate had survived. Tate Guffrey was still breathing. I jiggled my leg in the stirrup.
“Only four?” I said, unable to mask the strain tugging at my vocal cords. “That’s all?”
My parents jerked and snatched each other’s hands again. It was so annoying how they did that.
“Cassidy, we know it’s a lot to take in. But yes, that’s all the information we have now,” said my mother.
No, that’s not what I meant, I wanted to say.
“The lawyers say you’ll testify, though, that you were frightened of them after the assault. That you didn’t mean to hurt them but you had no other recourse.” Wrong. They had it all wrong. I saw my knuckles turn white. “They think this will play well with the jury.” Their voices sounded distorted like they were coming out of a faraway megaphone. What was wrong with them? How could any of this matter to them? I went still. “You’re a star student. Homecoming queen. Captain of the Oilerettes. Paisley and Ava have both been over to ask about you, by the way.” I felt my back rising and falling, seething like a cornered animal. “They’re very concerned.”
I waited for them to finish. My eyes bored into my mother’s forehead. Then I swiped my hand across the table, and papers and puzzle pieces flew. “I am none of those things,” I screamed, leaning forward and pressing my chest into the table.