Cracked (16 page)

Kell has her head down, playing with her macaroni and cheese. I’m glad she doesn’t see me because I’ve already chickened out. I can’t talk to her. I tell Nikole I’m going to get some food. On my way back I see Brian is now sitting with Bull at his “special” table, which is really just a smaller, raised-up version of the table we’re all at. Except he doesn’t have the tablecloth and dead flowers.

I’m sitting with my tray when Nikole asks me what kind of guy William is, as a roommate.

Do I tell her I know him? Do I tell her he’s tortured me since I’ve been a little kid? Do I tell her he’s one of the reasons I tried to kill myself? Do I tell her I hate him more than any other person alive?

I can’t dump all that on her. I don’t even know her that well.

“I don’t know,” I reply.

“Well, you live with him, don’t you have an opinion of him?” she pushes.

“We don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” she says. “That’s kind of weird. Don’t you think? I mean, you’re like five feet away from him and you guys don’t talk?”

“Nope,” I say, and pay extra attention to my macaroni and cheese.

Lacey leans in and whispers, “I think he’s kinda hot, I swear. I mean, he’s all injured and stuff, but he’s got those huge green eyes and long eyelashes. I’ll bet he’d look even hotter if he let his hair grow out, I swear.”

I think I’m going to get sick.
I
swear.

“Anyone who ends up in a wheelchair after a suicide attempt is messed up, seriously. I hope he talks in group today,” Nikole says.

I’m beginning to wonder if Nikole thinks Bull’s hot too. Why else would she care about his pathetic story? That would send me over the edge, I’m pretty sure. I decide to stop
this crap.

“He’s a jerk,” I say. I want to say that he’s a complete asshole, but I don’t want to curse in front of girls. My mother might fly back home just to slap me across my “fresh face.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have an opinion of him. Now all of a sudden he’s a jerk? I don’t get it,” Nikole says.

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you that he’s a jerk. That’s all. He’s a jerk.”

I look across the room at him. He’s smiling and eating and having a great time over there with Brian. All happy and buddy-buddy, while I’m sitting at a table with girls. God,
loser
runs through my veins. I push my lunch tray away; I’ve lost my appetite.

Lacey asks, “I wonder how Andrew is? Do you think he’ll be in group today?”

I shrug.

In breezes Lisa. Group is in ten minutes, so I guess we’ll all find out.

I look over at Kell, and she’s got her head down, her long black hair falling over her shoulders, and her hand is going a mile a minute. From where I’m sitting I can’t tell if she’s drawing or writing. I think she’s writing. I wonder what she’s writing. What could possibly hold her attention for such long periods of time? I haven’t seen her interact with anyone. Well, except for the fingers she gave Bull.

Kell looks up at me and we lock eyes. She breaks the stare in a split second, but it was just enough time for me to see some serious pain in her eyes. A deep blackness.

I can relate.

VICTOR HAS TURNED INTO THE DWEEB LADIES’ MAN
in the psycho ward. That’s funny. He’s always with the chicks. Not me, nah.

At school that kid never said a word to anyone; now he’s making his moves over lunch. Funny. I wonder what he’s talking about over there with those girls. The one girl keeps looking over at me and smiling, the one who always says, “I swear.” She’s not bad-looking, kind of cute. I think her name’s Libby or Lucy or something. Whatever. I don’t want a girlfriend. Can you imagine me taking a girl back to my apartment?

Libby, this is my alcoholic grandfather. Better duck, he hits hard. And this here is my mother. Yeah, I know, she looks young. She had me when she was seventeen. Oh, you want something to eat? Well, let’s see, how about a piece of moldy bread with . . . yeah, with nothing. Sit down. Oh, careful, that’s my bed. Yeah, my bed. This is my bedroom and the living room. Don’t mind Pop, he always throws beer cans at me. Pop, don’t punch me when my girlfriend’s here. Pop! Really, stop punching me! Stop hitting me, you asshole!

What a date. I’d be the perfect boyfriend.

Not.

Brian seems all right, and he’s kind of funny.

“Guess what? I have good news. I added up how much me, my sister, my mom, and my dad weigh, and it is, like, 10,641 pounds less than an elephant,” Brian says with a smile.

I’m not sure if I should laugh or not.

“I’m serious. You know how many times I’ve been called an elephant?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Probably, like, 10,641 times. But now, whenever some tool calls me an elephant, I can tell him to stick it up his ass, because my whole family put together doesn’t weigh as much as
one
elephant. How ’bout that for good news?”

When Brian laughs, I figure it’s okay for me to laugh too. So we’re both laughing. It feels really good to laugh.

“And I’m getting out of here after group today,” Brian says.

“Nice.”

The therapist lady comes in and tells us group starts in ten minutes. Right away I wonder if Andrew will be there and if the double-finger girl will talk today. She’s sitting over there in the corner with her notebook and her pen. I really want to know her deal. I can tell she thinks she’s all badass with her dyed jet-black hair and her evil glances, but she doesn’t scare me. No one scares me.

I take a piece of broccoli from my lunch tray and wing it across the room. It lands perfectly in her lap. Score.

She flies up, book and pen clattering to the floor, looks around, sees me smiling and waving, and throws it back at me. Nice arm. The broccoli makes it back to me, hitting me in the shoulder. She’s giving me the finger—times two again—and then storms toward me.

She leans over and says right in my ear, “I wish the gun worked and you died.”

Wow. Nice.

She gives me the twofer again, walks back to grab her notebook and pen, then storms past me and is gone.

I notice two things. One, she has breath that smells like
vanilla. Two, her eyes are the coolest green color I’ve ever seen. Well, really, I notice three things. I also got a clear view down her shirt when she leaned in. And let’s just say she’s got a rockin’ chest.

Holy shit.

TYPICAL THAT BULL’D PICK ON THE WEAKEST PERSON
in the room. Honestly, I don’t know why that broccoli wasn’t thrown at me. He should’ve thrown it at me. Not Kell. She doesn’t even know him.

Listen to me. I’m rationalizing that I should be bullied. I am sick.

Everyone is putting away their trays and walking over to group. Brian wheels Dirt Face over, so I’m off the hook. Thank God. I really don’t know if I could’ve controlled myself. He makes me sick.

Andrew is already in the group room, sitting in the
same seat as yesterday, but he’s not alone. There’s this huge muscle-bound orderly sitting behind him, against the wall. I’m guessing he’s there to make sure Andrew keeps his anger under control.

But then the orderly gets up and tells Lisa he’ll be standing right outside if she needs him. I guess he can’t be
in
the room for group. Probably something to do with patient privacy and stuff.

“Oh, Jimmy, we’ll be fine,” Lisa says.

Lisa gets group going and we’re off. While she’s talking, I notice that Bull has positioned himself next to Kell in the circle. I swear, if he messes with her during group, I . . . I . . .

I won’t do anything.

Kell’s body language screams,
Get away from me!
She’s sitting on one butt cheek, legs crossed away from him, arms crossed too, whole body facing the other direction, including her head. I see her journal is lying right under her chair. And he’s just sitting there with a smug grin on his face, staring at her, like he wants to take a bite out of her.

Lacey starts today and goes into how much she hates her mother and her mother’s boyfriend. Again. The whole story. Again. We all listen. Well, I’m not really listening. I keep stealing glances over at the Bull/Kell scene across the circle. She hasn’t moved a muscle since group started. I wonder if her legs
are cramping. Mine would. Bull hasn’t broken his stare either. He’s not even pretending to listen to Lacey’s story. Again.

Lacey finishes talking. More tissues for her.

Nikole reaches over and squeezes her knee. She is so cool. Lacey gets up and hugs Nikole. More tears.

Lisa just lets this all happen.

Then they go back to their seats and sniffling is the only sound.

“So, William, Kell. What seems to be going on over there?” Lisa says. She is a bold woman.

Kell ignores her. Bull snaps out of his attack stare. “Nothing.”

“Really? Nothing? I’m not so sure you’re being honest, William. Kell? Would you like to share today?” Lisa pushes.

It’s like Kell’s wrapped in some invisible tape. She doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like she’s breathing.

“Okay, Kell, you don’t want to share today. That’s fine. But know this, we are all in pain in this room. Every patient here has gone through tremendously difficult times. Do you realize that? That we’re all hurting?”

Kell doesn’t move.

Lisa purses her lips and does a small nod. “William? Would you like to?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says.

Andrew comes alive and laughs. He says that if Bull were good, he wouldn’t have a hole in his leg and a cast on his wrist
or
be sitting in this circle.

That doesn’t make Bull smile.

Andrew says, “Come on, dude. We’re all messed up, or we wouldn’t be here. Like Lisa said. Right? I’m probably more effed than you, believe me. Anyone else here have a stepdad who has called him a moron since he was six? Called him retarded almost every day? In front of his brother—his real son? Said
he
was the reason his real dad left? That it was all his fault? Told him he wished someone else would just get rid of him, so he wouldn’t have to see his face every day? Anyone? Yeah, we’re all messed up in this room, William. None of us are good.”

“Andrew, how did that make you feel?” Lisa asks. “These things your stepdad has said to you over the years.”

Even I think I know the answer to this question.

“Like shit, that’s how. Like a pile of—like a pile of nothing,” he says. Then he goes quiet. Lisa tries to keep him talking.

“How does nothing feel?”

Wow, that’s a good question, a really good question. How
does
nothing feel? This seems to have stumped Andrew as well, because he shrugs his shoulders and tells her he doesn’t know. I try to answer the question in my head. How does nothing feel? How does nothing feel?

It feels like pain, pain every day. Your brain knows you are nothing and this causes pain. The pain grows in every cell of your body, like a disease that eats you from the inside out. Soon you’re only a shell, because there is nothing left on the inside. No heart, no thinking, no emotions. Just a skin that walks around all day hurting.

That’s how nothing feels.

I wish I had the guts to say this out loud. But I don’t. I have no courage, so I sit and stare at Andrew. It looks like he’s got something to say now.

“Nothing feels like nothing. I don’t feel anything anymore.”

“That’s not true, Andrew. You feel anger,” Lisa says. Lisa is right. We all saw Andrew’s anger yesterday. We know he feels anger. So does the table he pounded on.

“Anger is something,” Lisa says. She’s really determined today.

I can’t tell if this is making Andrew angry. He’s got a wicked scowl on his face and his arms are crossed. I hope he doesn’t start punching, because I’m only one seat away from him, and Nikole is next to him. I don’t know what I’d do if he hurt Nikole. Even by accident. I look at Nikole and know that I would protect her; I would. For the first time in my life, I feel a little courage. I really would protect her.

Then I remember the big guy just outside the door, and I feel even more brave. He’d back me up. It’s his job.

Brian breaks the silence. “Well, I’m leaving today right after group. I think I’m ready.”

“Of course you’re ready, Brian. It’s because you
want
to live. For forever, remember?” Lacey says with a wink. “Don’t be afraid.”

Nikole says, “Well, guess what? I feel afraid, because
I’m
leaving tomorrow and I don’t know how it’s going to be when I go home.”

My courage is sucked up by the vacuum of her words.

“Tomorrow?” I ask. Out loud. In front of the whole circle. Now all eyes are on me, except for Kell’s, of course. She’s still in her own dark world.

“Yeah, tomorrow. I was here for two days before you got here,” she says directly to me. Then, to the group, “Doctor Billings saw me yesterday and said tomorrow’s the day.”

Lacey tells us she’s leaving tomorrow too and swears she, Brian, and Nikole can make it out there. She says this with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Thanks, Lace. You really think so?” Nikole asks. She seems like a little girl right now, not the fearless wonder I’ve seen the past two days.

“Yeah. We
can
. Besides, you and Brian are, like, the bravest
ones in this circle. Just keep your heads straight. Brian, live your life for you. You know?” Lacey turns to Nikole. “Your boyfriend’s friends are going to need you when you get out of here. I don’t know what they’ve been doing without you all these days, I swear.”

What happened to “I think we’re going to be okay?”
I scream in my head.
What about our wishes? Our dreams? You can’t leave me in here alone!

Nikole smiles at her. “Those guys all call me Queenie because I’m the only girl in the group. Isn’t that an awesome nickname?”

Lacey says, “You can do it, Queenie. I swear.”

“So can you, Lacey,” Nikole tells her.

“We all can,” Brian says. “We just have to
want
to.”

Lisa clears her throat. “Brian, Lacey, Nikole, you have made big strides in here. You should be proud of your clear thinking. And I second what Lacey said: You
can
do it. You
are
strong enough. Don’t underestimate yourselves.”