Call Me Crazy by Quinn Loftis, M Bagley Designs Page B

Encouraging her was so not what I was going for.
    “Is there even the slightest chance that you might possibly refrain from attempting to sexually enlighten me for the rest of the night?” My words come out muffled because my head is still pressed to the cold table top. I refuse to look up at her and give her any more ammunition, be it shocked eyes or flaming red skin.
    “Fine, I’ll give you a reprieve,” she grumbles.
    I let out a sigh of relief, thankful, no matter how fleeting it may be, that she has waved the white flag of peace.
    “So, are the ‘rents visiting any time soon? I have new material I want to use on them,” Candy grins shamelessly.
    “Okay first off, where on earth did you learn to speak like that, and second, I don’t think you need to subject my parents to any more of your material . They are still recovering from their last run in with you.”
    Candy purses her lips at me and she lets out an annoyed laugh. “Why do you always feel the need to make lists of your questions and comments?”
    I blow air out of my mouth making my cheeks puff out and fanning the wispy hairs around my face.
    “It keeps things concise,” I explain, then growl as I realize that she has totally turned the tables on me. “Your turn.”
    “I watch My So Called Life , even though it’s over a decade old, it’s still very relevant,” she tells me with a shrug.
    “Great,” I say rolling my eyes. “Just what we need is you watching a show about a messed up teenager hell bent on drinking herself into oblivion , in an attempt to fit in, while constantly trying to sleep with the elusive guy who continually treats her like crap.”
    “Oh, good, so you’ve watched it.”
    Once again I have successfully backed myself into a corner. I stand and pick up my tray as I shake my head at my own nonsense. Only I could act indignant to a crazy lady who watches a teen show that I have indeed seen every episode of.
    “Wait!” Candy yells behind me as I hear her chair scrape against the floor in her haste to follow me. “I haven’t told you what my new material is.”
    I look back over my shoulder as I dump the untouched contents of my tray into the trash. Candy’s eyes sparkle and her lips turn up in amusement, at herself no doubt.
    “Though I am dying to know what embarrassing things you plan to impart on my parents, maybe we should just cut our losses for the day.”
    Candy knocks her tray against the trash can clearing off any remnants of dinner and carelessly tosses it on the already too full tray cart. “I was going to tell them to stop being insufferable asses.”
    “Well in that case,” I bow dramatically, “impart away my roguish partner in crime.”
    “You better remember you said that when your mom has her panties in a wad and your dad’s face is turning eggplant purple from his need to blow a gasket.”
     
    ~
    There’s no moon out tonight. No soft beam of light penetrating my window and illuminating my tiny cell. That’s why it’s quiet, I remind myself as I stare out of the glass into the dark night. Dr. Stacey has talked with me about the moon and how it affects mental disorders, the pull of it and the chaos that can result from it. At first I thought she was feeding me some major BS, but after being here for over two months and seeing the difference in the patients, feeling the difference in myself during the full moon, I now know she was telling the truth.
    On the night of a full moon it is anything but quiet here. The unadorned hallways that gleam with the reflection of harsh florescent lights are full of pacing bodies. Like deranged zombies they pace and I wonder if at any moment they are going to begin tearing into one another, ripping flesh from bone. Dressed in the signature light green scrubs that compliment no one and wash out every complexion, most mumble incoherently while others cry out, seemingly lost in their own private anguish. The usual number of nurses on duty is doubled and syringes