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I start to climb up the rungs to Jana’s bunk and she tries to push my hands away.

“Get away from me, you freak! Get away! Help! Help!” she screams.

Suddenly Ms. Williams bursts into the room, followed closely behind by Emily. “What on earth?” the Dorm Mother says.

As soon as I see her, I forget about Jana, and rush over. “Ms. Williams! It’s you! I missed you! You’re like a mother to me, except not! I think I love you!” I reach my arms around her sizeable middle and give a big squeeze.

Ms. Williams gently dislodges my hands and then turns to Emily. “How long has she been this way?”

“I honestly don’t know, Ma’am,” she says, her eyes big and bright. “I woke up and there she was, trying to hug me. It’s like she’s…manic or something!”

Ms. Williams nods vigorously, as if having an elaborate internal discussion. “Yes, yes, manic is exactly what I’d call it.” Now she shakes her head, back and forth. “Such a shame for a Jenkins girl, such a horrible shame.”

“Forget about manic, I just think she’s nuts!” Jana calls from her top bunk.

I look up at her and smile. “Even though I still kind of hate you, I think you’ve got really soft skin!” I call. I start to head in her direction. “Is it okay if I touch again? I really want to touch it!”

Ms. Williams grabs my arm and starts to pull me away. “It’s straight to the Dean’s office for you, my child.”

I willingly let Ms. Williams lead me down the hall, waving to Jana and Emily with my free hand as I go. “Goodbye, roommates!” I call. “I know it was goodbye last time, too, but it might be goodbye for good now!”

“Shhh, Sophie, you’ll wake up the entire floor,” Ms. Williams scolds.

“Oops!” I giggle. Now that I’m done with waving, I let my hand run against the wall as we walk, the smooth paint feeling wonderful against my fingers. “Wow,” I whisper to myself. “Just wow.”

Eventually we get to Dr. Witmer’s office and Ms. Williams knocks on the door. “Try to be respectful, Sophie. He was summoned out of bed to meet with you, after all.”

“Will he be in his pyjamas?” I ask loudly. “I hope so! I’ve always wanted to see a Dean in his pyjamas!”

Just as Ms. Williams tries to hush me, the door opens and we’re gestured in. Unfortunately, Dr. Witmer is
not
wearing his pyjamas, dressed instead in a pair of pants and a shirt that seems to be up buttoned wrong. I find that fascinating.

“Dr. Witmer!” I call out, rushing to him and putting my arms around his paunch. “Seeing you reminds me of my dad which reminds me of my family which makes me so happy!” I squeeze him tightly. “Did I tell you that I missed you and that I think I love you?”

Dr. Witmer gently unlocks my hands from behind his back and leads me to a chair. It’s the same one I had to sit in the last time I was in this office, drunk. I run my hands up and down the leather, surprised by how wonderful it feels against my skin.
Why didn’t I notice this before
?

“Ms. Williams, if you don’t mind filling me in?” the Dean asks, turning to the Dorm Mother.

For a few minutes, they murmur together, once in a while turning to look at me. Eventually Dr. Witmer reaches out to shake Ms. Williams’ hand. “Thanks so much for your help,” he says. “I’m sorry that you had to get out of bed for this.”

Ms. Williams looks my way, gives me a gentle nod, and then leaves the room.
Where is she going? I need to hug her goodbye
! I find myself focusing again on the softness of the leather chair, unable to stop rubbing my hands against the upholstery.

When I look up again, I realize Dr. Witmer has been talking to someone on the phone. “Can I say hello?” I ask.

Dr. Witmer looks startled, but shakes his head. “I was just speaking to your father, Sophie. He agrees with me that a return to Harmony is likely what’s needed in this situation. However, given your current behaviour, he would like us to wait until he arrives here so he can see how you are doing in person.”

At the mention of my father, I suddenly feel sober and my heart skips a beat.
If he thinks I really know, he’ll want to kill me, he’ll actually try to kill me.
Then the warm glow returns and I focus once more on the leather beneath my hands.

gh

An hour goes by, then another. I can feel the glow start to fade and the anxiety begin to rev up. I start to realize that I had better keep acting crazy so I can convince my father that all of this has been due to a mental unbalance, rather than being part of something bigger. I suddenly realize how right Noah was about my acting and hope that his pill will keep working at least a bit until my dad arrives.

“I love you!” I shout out to Dr. Witmer. He looks up at me and I look back at him, my words hanging in the air between us.
Please believe me. Please believe me
. I watch as Dr. Witmer’s face fills with pity and I sigh with relief.
I can do this. I can, I can
!

There’s a few rapid knocks at the door, and we both turn our heads in the direction of the sound.

“It must be Dr. Jenkins,” the Dean says, coming to life.

“Great!” I shout out. “I love him, too!” I try to ignore the knot that’s starting to form in my stomach, pulling tighter and tighter and making it hard for me to breathe.

The door opens and in walks my father, looking taller than I remember. He glances in my direction, than turns towards the Dean, his hand extended. “Dr. Witmer, I’m so sorry to have to see you again in such unfortunate circumstances.”

“No, no, Dr. Jenkins, it’s always a pleasure.” As if realizing what he just said, his face starts to redden. “What I meant to say is that we always welcome your presence here at ISTJ, regardless of the reason.”

“Yes, yes, well let’s get on with it, shall we?” my father says.

Just hearing his voice fills me with fear. I can tell the pill has almost worn off, most of its effects being used on people who didn’t need to see me unhinged. My father could decide to take me home and End me himself! How can I convince him I am in fact mentally ill and need to go back to Harmony? How can I make him realize I’m too crazy to even tell anyone what I know and have them believe me? I close my eyes for a moment and Noah’s face enters my mind.
Find another way in
.

Opening my eyes slightly, I see Dr. Witmer and my father are still involved in some sort of conversation. Without moving my head, I glance around the room and notice a tray with a crystal decanter filled with some sort of golden liquid. Also on the tray are crystal glasses, clearly meant for special occasions only. I take a deep breath, and then another.
You can do this. The Group is counting on you
.

Suddenly I leap out of my chair and start screaming. I rush towards the tray and grab four of the glasses, tossing them into the air. “I’m a juggler! I’m a juggler! I love to juggle!” I shout, giggling hysterically. As each glass crashes to the floor, I start to laugh harder. “Not such a good juggler, but maybe an acrobat!”

As Dr. Witmer rushes towards the broken crystal, I climb up onto his large desk and start doing jumping jacks on it. “Daddy,” I yell. “Please let me join the circus! Please, oh please, let me join the circus!”

My father moves towards the desk and taps on its surface. “Get down now, Sophie Marie.”

With the knot in my stomach twisting even tighter, I try and smile the biggest I have ever done. “Only if you catch me, Daddy!” I yell out. “You used to catch me off the jungle gym, remember? Oh please catch me, Daddy! Please catch me!”

My father looks at me with disgust. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sophie. Stop this display immediately.”

“Here I go!” I shout, leaping off the desk and tackling my father, who topples to the ground. “I love you, Daddy! I love you and Dr. Witmer, too!” I then climb off my father and start dancing around the room, faster and faster.

“Dr. Jenkins, it’s clear to me what Sophie needs is an immediate stay at Harmony. I can call them right now to come and take her so that she may receive the appropriate treatment.”

My father holds up his hand. “Sophie Marie,” he calls out. “Where have you been living for the last week, since you ran away from Harmony? Why didn’t you come home to your mother and me?”

I stop dancing for a moment, suddenly realizing that my father hasn’t told anyone that I came home last week. This realization gives me the confidence I need to keep play-acting. I give him a big grin. “I went to see my friend from summer camp, silly Daddy! I went to see Clara Schepers and her mom! Her mom promised me I could visit anytime, so I visited! We got to stay up and watch movies and make popcorn and eat popcorn and then eat more popcorn and then we had even more fun!” I start to twirl, faster and faster, attempting to recapture that hyper feeling I’d had only a few hours before.
I’m a good actress, I’m a good actress
.

A few seconds pass, the only sound in the room being the noise my feet make against the thin carpet. I keep twirling, feeling dizzier and dizzier in the process.

Finally, my father breaks the silence. “Call Harmony,” he tells Dr. Witmer. “Let them know that a stay in Intermediate is what my daughter now needs, as she is clearly manic. And let them know that she needs a new necklace, as she seems to have disposed of her last one.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” the Dean says, reaching for the phone.

I keep twirling and giggling, trying to force myself to not throw up. I’m going to be sent for a stay in Intermediate. That means injections, for sure.
What should I do now, Noah? What should I do
?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I must be crazy to be in a loony bin like this.

—Kenneth Elton Kesey

The first few
days back at Harmony are the worst, as coming down from Noah’s pill feels like being dropped out of an airplane without a parachute. My mood is plunged into a one-week depression with no end in sight. Each time I feel the new ISTJ necklace that’s around my neck, I start to weep. I’m in the Intermediate Ward, which doesn’t seem so different at first from Temporary, other than the locked doors and the extra rules. That and the fact that there seem to be some seriously troubled kids here. Like Maggie, a sixteen-year-old who struggles with depression and has actually attempted to kill herself twice. Or Anna, a fourteen-year-old who looks several years younger, because she’s been trying to starve herself since the age of eight. In Temporary, a lot of the kids were like me, people who’d somehow gone against the status quo at their Home School and were at Harmony for a brief stay, to have the basic protocol of The Association pounded into them. At this point, I can recite the protocol in my sleep: 1) practice good self-care, including having a regular sleep ritual, to promote good sleep hygiene; 2) incorporate regular relaxation training into your daily life; 3) utilize cognitive-restructuring techniques whenever possible to challenge any nasty thoughts, especially anti-Association ones that may enter your mind; and 4) above all be mindful of the present and all it has to offer.

Eventually I realize Intermediate is different. Yes, there is still a protocol of sorts, involving the set-in-stone Morning Walk and things like Relaxation Training and Group Therapy, but the energy put into these interventions seems to be minimal, for some reason. It’s like the Psychologists who run the program, and the poorly trained interventionists who carry it out, realize there’s really little hope for improvement and what’s the point really, as it’s all just a waiting game until each of us is shipped off to our final destination, to Full.

The dorm we all stay in is slightly different, as well. While there’s the same giant room filled with rows of bunk beds, and the occasional shelves and wooden chairs, if you look closely you’ll notice all of the furniture is chained and bolted down, in the off-chance that some little fifteen-year-old girl will get enraged enough to try and throw a bunk bed at someone.

For the first few days after arriving at Intermediate, I don’t notice any of these nuances between programs, because I’m so focused on my own wretchedness. Whatever idiotic pill Noah gave me has taken me away from heaven and pushed me straight down to hell. I feel worse than I’ve ever felt, my mood so low you could use a broom to push it into a pile in the corner. While I remember Noah warning me about this, nothing could have really prepared me for just how awful I feel. My interventionist, a middle-aged woman named Holly, seems concerned for my mental state and requests an order for more medication. Pretty soon I’m existing in a thick fog, my thoughts and actions slowed to the point of being at a stand-still.

Lucky for me, my initial medications at Intermediate are given orally, which means once I start to get away from my post-pill crash, I somehow remember to cheek the meds. I can tell a bit of the tranquilizers still seep into my body, but all that means is that I’m a bit slower than normal, nothing I can’t work around. After a few days, my heavy feelings of despair lift and I notice for the first time exactly where the hell I am.

Once I’m somewhat myself, I remember my main reasons for being here: 1) to get in contact with some kids named Jessie and Brendan, and 2) to somehow spy on the annual Progress Meeting when it takes place in August. Now in my more normal state, I realize these two reasons are not necessarily
my
two main reasons for being here. First and foremost, I need to see James’s old interventionist, Marcus. After that, I need to track down Thomas and make sure he’s still okay.
Please, please, make him be okay
.

gh

Finding Marcus isn’t as hard as it seems. I just shadow some of the other patients and listen to them talk to their interventionists. Within a day or so, I’ve got him in my cross-hairs.
Marcus
. He’s bigger than I thought, tall and muscular, with a narrow waist. That doesn’t surprise me, as I know interventionists are often chosen less for their actual fit for the job and more for their physique and ability to tackle people to the ground, when needed. What does surprise me are his eyes, which are charcoal black and fringed with the longest, most gorgeous eyelashes I’ve ever seen.
My sister Hannah would kill for those lashes
! In my slightly drugged state, I figure the easiest way to actually meet my brother’s rescuer is to introduce myself. All I need is the right time and place.