Get Well Soon (17 page)

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Authors: Julie Halpern

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Depression & Mental Illness, #Love & Romance

BOOK: Get Well Soon
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AFTER GROUP––BOBBY’S GOODBYE
I felt a little sniffy as we said goodbye to Bobby in Group. Not that I knew him that well, but I liked having someone younger, sibling-ish, around.
He chose hugs for his goodbye. As we went around the group, each person had to say something nice about Bobby along with their hug.
Phil: “I’m going to miss our cereal challenges.”
Matt O.: “You were fun to play cards with.”
Colby: “I was never afraid of you.”
Sean: “You always had lots of Band-Aids.”
Tanya: “You didn’t annoy me that much.”
Me: “You reminded me of my little sister, but not in a girly way. Just because you’re younger. And nice. I’ll shut up now.”
He gave me a young, weak hug, and Group was over.
I wonder what the goodbyes will be like when (if?) I get out.
BEDTIME
Watching Justin at dinnertime (I hope I didn’t look like a drooly stalker) has convinced me that I have to do two things: 1. I must find out what the deal is with Justin’s hand and 2. I am going to kiss Justin at the Shedd Aquarium. I figure it’ll be the easiest
place to do it because I’ll be with him all day and probably under not as much supervision as normal, what with the slackness of adults on field trips. I’m sure my level will go down for next week anyway because of the baby-throwing incident, so even if I get caught and in trouble it won’t really make a difference. Shit. I guess Justin will get in trouble, too, and if he doesn’t want to be kissing me, then not only will I be dissed, but he’ll be mad at me for lowering his Level. But if he does want to be kissing me, then he won’t care, just like I won’t care. Oh god. Even bigger problem: How do you kiss?
BREAKFAST
Sandy and I had to eat in our room this morning because we’re both scheduled to meet early with our doctors. I wonder what Dr. Asshole is going to say about my Quiet Room stay.
While we ate and waited, I thought it might be the right moment to ask her about something I was a little nervous about. I wasn’t kidding last night about being clueless about kissing. I have no idea how. I mean, of course I know how to pucker and peck, but I was kind of hoping I’ll get to use my tongue with Justin. The aquarium may be my only chance to ever kiss him, and I do not want to screw it up because of my ignorance in the realm of kissage. I decided to get Sandy’s help with Operation Justin.
“So I’ve decided to make a move on Justin at the aquarium.”
“That’s so great! He seems kind of shy in Group, so I bet he’s going to love that you’re finally taking control.”
“Really?” I felt a twinge of jealousy that Sandy knew a bit about Justin that I didn’t. But I needed more info. “Are you sure he won’t be grossed out?”
“Anna! Are you kidding? How could he possibly be grossed out by you? You’re adorable!”
“I know, the adorable chubby girl.” I hated how anyone who wasn’t skinny had to be in the cute range of attractiveness, not the sexy range.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean that you’re so smart and funny and interesting and creative and, I am not just saying this, so pretty! He will totally be thrilled when you kiss him.” Strangely, I kind of believed her at that moment. Now for the embarrassing part.
“Sandy?” I asked in a way that she knew I wanted something.
“Yeah?” she answered suspiciously.
“I need your help with something.” I was not quite ready to get to the point.
“Like what?” she asked, imitating the slow way I kept asking her things.
“Well … how … exactly …”
“Uh-huh?”
“Do … you …”
“Oh god,” she interrupted, “you’re not going to ask me how to have sex, are you?”
“No!” I laughed, although it did freak me out that (hopefully)
someday I would have to figure that out, too. “How do you kiss someone?” There. I got the question out. I would’ve asked you, of course, Tracy, but who knows when and if the letter would get out in time. I needed info
fast
.
“What do you mean? You just do.”
Oy. I knew this would be difficult. I knew that it really was just natural for most people and I was just a freak of nature who was missing the make-out gene. “Um, like, but what do you do with your tongue? When do you use it? And how? And why do people in movies look like they’re eating each other’s mouths instead of giving kisses? And why do they move their heads so much?” The questions just kept coming. I felt like a kindergartner.
Sandy looked pensive. “Hmmm. I never really thought about it in those ways. Here. Make a fist.” I closed my fingers tightly into my palm. “Not so hard. A soft fist. Now kiss it.” Oh god. So embarrassing. What if they really do have surveillance cameras set up behind the light fixtures in our room? You know they’re going to sell tapes of this to
America’s Lame-Ass Home Videos
, or whatever that show is called.
I crept my mouth towards my hand and quickly gave it three fast, close-mouthed kisses. “There,” I said, red and hot in my face.
“Real smooth,” she laughed. “Try this.” She softly opened her mouth a little and lightly wrapped her lips around her thumb several times. I tried it, and it felt OK. “Now add your tongue,” she said. She rhythmically moved her tongue in and out of the mouth-hole she made on her hand, while at the same time moving her
lips like she did before. I tried it, and after a while my hand was full of slobber.
“Is your hand all wet?” I asked.
“No,” she answered. “Maybe you’re using too much tongue. You don’t have to french the whole time. Just sometimes, in the middle of everything.” Check. Tongue during middle. Not whole time.
“What do I do with my hands?” I asked, feeling more confident about the mouth part.
“Well, that depends on how much you like the guy and how far you plan on going.” I knew how much I liked Justin, but I didn’t think we’d be rounding many of the bases in front of all the people at the aquarium. “Why don’t you put them on his back or on his hips or on his face,” she said. “That part should come pretty naturally. I’m trying to think back to the first time I kissed someone.” Think back? This was so humiliating. Someone the same age as me was having a senior moment because it had been so long since she had her first kiss.
“That’s OK,” I said. “I think I got it.” I wanted to stop talking about it so I could lie on my bed and envision the actual act of kissing Justin. Wouldn’t it be the most amazing thing if it actually happened?
AFTER DOCTOR MEETING
Shit. I just found out the worst thing. Dr. Asshole told me that I’m going home on Friday. How can I go home already? I just got
here! What have they even done to fix my problems? Nothing! I don’t want to see my parents this soon, not after they locked me up here. And what about Sandy? What is she going to do here without me to be her friend? What about Matt O.? He’s become a really good friend, too. And Justin. What about Justin? My first chance that a gorgeous guy could possibly like me, and I’ll never know because I’m leaving. Then I’ll go to my home and he’ll stay here and fall in love with the next girl who moves onto the floor.
I’m crying. I’ve been crying since my doctor told me. I haven’t cried in a couple of weeks, and now I’m doing it again. This place is horrible. How can they lock me up and force me to become close with all of these cool people and then rip me away from them again? Dr. Asshole said there was nothing I could do to stay. He said my insurance only covered twenty-one days, but that I seemed fine anyway so it shouldn’t make a difference. The insurance. So my parents didn’t put out for the super-sized policy.
Only three weeks. Is that enough time to fix a person?
TWO MINUTES LATER
Maybe I am fixed. There’s no way I would have ever thrown a doll and screamed at the top of my lungs before I came here. And I never would have befriended most of the people here in my normal life, because I would’ve been too shy or insecure. I never would have crushed on a beautiful boy and believed in the
possibility of him liking me. And I certainly never would have considered trying to kiss him, which I still am considering because Dr. Asshole informed me that I am still at Level III. “Why not,” he said. “Go on the field trip.” So I am going to kiss Justin. At this point, what do I have to lose?
SCHOOL
It seems that once the staff knows you’re leaving, they don’t care what you do. Justin and I sat next to each other at school today, looking over his architectural drawings, and no one told me to move. I wanted to be happy just sitting there next to Justin, but I was so sad that I’d only have a short time left to be with him.
I told him I was going to leave soon.
“What? But you just got here.” He tapped his pen against the table with his right hand.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“It’ll be a month tomorrow.” I watched his right hand, the stitched one, clumsily write his name.
“Is that why you’re here?” I nodded my head towards his hand.
“Yeah, it is.” There was a pause, but I was afraid if I spoke I’d stop him from telling me anything. He went on, “I used to play the bass. Did I tell you that? In a punk band.” No wonder I was so attracted to him! “We were called The Dipsticks. Not great, I know, but we were starting to get some gigs. We practiced in
my garage, next to my dad’s enormous collection of power tools. My dad hated the music, and he hated us using his space. ‘You’re pissing your life away!’ he’d yell at me. He wanted me to be a carpenter, like him, but I want to design houses, not build them. Maybe even the band could’ve made it big.” Justin flicked his pen against the table, hard. I had never seen him angry, and a part of me was afraid he’d lose it.
“One day when we were supposed to have practice I went into the garage. Instead of my friends, my dad was in there. ‘I sent them home,’ he said. ‘I’m going to teach you something useful to do in the garage.’ He started giving me a lecture on the table saw, but I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t give a shit about being a carpenter. All I could think about was how The Dipsticks needed to practice for an upcoming show. I ran bass lines in my head as he talked. Then he told me to come over, for me to try. I didn’t want him to lecture me about the importance of listening, too, so I pretended I heard him.” Justin dropped his pen, and it rolled off the edge of the table. “I ruined everything.” He pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “The saw was harder to use than I thought. I slipped, and it cut right through.”
Justin held his right hand out in front of us. “My dad picked up the pieces of my fingers and drove me to the hospital. They sewed them back on, but they still don’t work right.” He bent down to pick up his pen, his fingers clamped awkwardly around
it. “They aren’t strong enough to hold a pen, and they weren’t strong enough to pull a trigger.”
My eyes bugged. “A trigger for what?”
“I couldn’t handle it, not being able to play my bass or write or draw. My dad keeps a gun in his nightstand. My fingers were so fucked up, I couldn’t even kill myself when I wanted to. So I gave up on everything. No more band. No more bass. I can’t even listen to it.”
“You tried to kill yourself?” No matter how many times I thought about it, I never actually tried. “And
that’s
why you only listen to The Doors.”
No.
Bass.
“Pretty bad, huh?”
“You’re not bad, Justin. None of us are.” No one here, even total shitheads like Phil and Tanya, are truly bad. We just aren’t who everyone else wants us to be.
I looked around to see if any teachers were near us, then I ran my fingers over his scars.
He carefully gripped his pen and wrote
Anna
next to his name. We stared at the letters together until school was over.
PLAY THERAPY
Flaky Play Therapy again. I couldn’t even get excited to be spending the afternoon with Justin. I mean, of course I was happy
he was there, but all I could think about were two things: 1) I will be leaving in less than two days and I’ll probably never see him again and 2) I was going to be kissing this godly creature tomorrow and I was petrified.
We played a couple of games today in Play Therapy. Lady Big ’Do led the group in a rousing game of “How are we feeling today?” All of us sat in a circle (shocking!) on the floor and pretended to roll an imaginary ball to each other. Whoever pretend-caught the ball had to answer the question “How are we feeling today?” Sandy started us off. I thought she would say something about “losing her baby,” but instead she said, “I’m sad because Anna is leaving on Friday.”
“Damn,” Victor shook his head.
Big ’Do said, “Let’s take our turns, everyone. Wait until someone rolls the ball to you.”
Sandy rolled the ball to Victor. “Damn,” he repeated. “I’m sad ’cause I just found out Anna is leaving.” Victor rolled the ball to Colby.
“I feel pretty good. I haven’t heard any voices in over a week.” Well, it’s not like Colby and I ever really hung out. I couldn’t expect everyone to be sad about
me
, could I? Colby rolled the ball to Justin.
“I’m truly bummed that Anna’s leaving.” He sad-smiled at me, and then rolled the ball my way.
“And what about you, Anna?” Big ’Do asked. “Are you at least happy to be going home?”
“No,” I answered. “I’m not.” Tears uncontrollably rolled down my cheeks.
“Well.” Big ’Do bounced up, trying to sound cheery. “Let’s liven things up a bit. Stand up in your circle. It’s time for freeze dance!”
I hadn’t freeze-danced since I was little. Big ’Do had a portable mini CD player/radio with one speaker. She turned the radio on to a hip-hop station and reminded us of the rules of the game. “When you hear the music: dance. When it stops: stop dancing. Try not to pay attention to anyone around you. Don’t be embarrassed. Free your mind!” As the music started, we were all pretty dance-shy. Then on the radio a funky voice came on and announced an “Old Skool Jam,” and that excellent song “Bust a Move” came on. All of a sudden everyone got into it. I’m not the best dancer, but it was pretty fun. Justin looked hot as he busted out some robotic moves. Colby did some weird gyrating dance, and Sandy performed one of her cheerleading routines. The music stopped abruptly, but it had been playing for so long that none of us even remembered it was a game of freeze dance. Eventually everyone started slowing down and looking around, and the momentum stopped. Just as each one of us became completely frozen, the music started again and we jammed the afternoon away.
Finally we were doing something that we all did in the real world! I love to dance, even though I’m usually doing it alone in
my bedroom. But even at the lame school mixers that I occasionally drag myself to, I’m not opposed to getting my groove on. I wish we could do this every day at Lake Shit, but I can’t imagine the adults would agree that instead of actual therapy, all we really needed was a dance party. My props to Big ’Do.

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