asks.
“Nothing. They just order you around a lot.”
“Huh,” he says, staring blankly down the hall. “So are you, like, finished now? Free and clear?”
“I don’t have to go back, if that’s what you mean.”
“Huh. So that means you can come get high with us after school?”
“Well. No.”
“So you’re actually going to do it? You’re actually gonna quit?”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “I think I am. For now.”
Jake nods. “That’s too bad,” he says. “Raj just got some killer Colombian. He was psyched to smoke you out. You know, like, to welcome you back.” As he says this, he sort of leans toward me, doing his sexy Jake thing.
“I don’t think I better. Sorry.”
Jake shrugs. “So what are you gonna do? I mean, if you can’t hang out?”
“I don’t know. Crawl in a hole, I guess.”
“That sucks.”
“I know.”
“Huh,” he says. At that moment, Marisa Petrovich walks by. She’s wearing a very short skirt. “Hey, Marisa,” he calls out.
“Hey,
Jake
,” she purrs.
“All right, then,” he says to me. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
“Tell Raj thanks,” I say. “You know, for thinking of me.”
“No worries.” Jake’s now staring at a slutty sophomore I don’t know. Her top is cut so low she’s basically showing the world her tits. Jake practically falls over trying to look at them.
Oh yeah, high school
, I think to myself.
This is a great idea
.
3
M y whole first week is like that. People coming up to me. Asking me polite questions. Then avoiding me like the plague. It’s excruciating.
Stewart calls from Spring Meadow, but he can only talk for ten minutes. Somehow we can’t seem to keep the conversation going. It’s still nice. But also weirdly frustrating.
On Friday night my mother drives me to a Teens at Risk support group Dr. Bernstein runs. There’s, like, eight of us. We go around the room and talk about our “issues.” These are mostly rich girls from my neighborhood. It’s not that their problems aren’t real. It’s just so tedious the way they talk about them. It’s all therapy-speak and
my wants
and
my needs
and
me, me, me
.
At least the people at rehab were funny. At least Vern always had good dirty jokes.
Halfway through, I can’t stand it anymore and I bail. I go outside and sit on the cement steps in the cold. The social worker woman comes out and tries to talk to me, and I’m like: “I’m fine, really I am. I just can’t deal with this right now.”
So she goes back inside and I put my head down on my knees and I ask God to just kill me, I can’t take this. I can’t live like this. School is impossible. I have a semester’s worth of homework to make up. I have no friends. I have nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to talk to.
No wonder Vern gets drunk every year.
4
A nother week passes, and then one night at dinner my dad hands me a gift-wrapped box. It’s a present. I open it and it’s a new phone. This is a little risky since I’m famous for losing cell phones. Or dropping them in toilets. Or throwing them at cops.
They make a big deal of giving it to me, congratulating me on a job well done. My dad tells me I’m doing great, everyone is so proud of me. He says he feels like he’s got his old Maddie back.
I have no idea what that means, since all I do is walk around in a suicidal haze. But whatever. I thank them politely and escape upstairs to my room as soon as I can. I don’t know who to call exactly. I’m not allowed to call Stewart after six at the halfway house. I can’t really call Jake or Raj. There’s no one else I can think of.
But then I remember someone.
I dig through my desk and find a certain scrap of paper. Trish’s number. I haven’t called her since she left Spring Meadow. I guess I haven’t been desperate enough. I’m desperate enough now.
I put her number in and dial it.
It rings. I wait. I get nervous in my stomach.
“Hello?” says a sleepy voice.
“Hello?” I say.
“Nothing. They just order you around a lot.”
“Huh,” he says, staring blankly down the hall. “So are you, like, finished now? Free and clear?”
“I don’t have to go back, if that’s what you mean.”
“Huh. So that means you can come get high with us after school?”
“Well. No.”
“So you’re actually going to do it? You’re actually gonna quit?”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “I think I am. For now.”
Jake nods. “That’s too bad,” he says. “Raj just got some killer Colombian. He was psyched to smoke you out. You know, like, to welcome you back.” As he says this, he sort of leans toward me, doing his sexy Jake thing.
“I don’t think I better. Sorry.”
Jake shrugs. “So what are you gonna do? I mean, if you can’t hang out?”
“I don’t know. Crawl in a hole, I guess.”
“That sucks.”
“I know.”
“Huh,” he says. At that moment, Marisa Petrovich walks by. She’s wearing a very short skirt. “Hey, Marisa,” he calls out.
“Hey,
Jake
,” she purrs.
“All right, then,” he says to me. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
“Tell Raj thanks,” I say. “You know, for thinking of me.”
“No worries.” Jake’s now staring at a slutty sophomore I don’t know. Her top is cut so low she’s basically showing the world her tits. Jake practically falls over trying to look at them.
Oh yeah, high school
, I think to myself.
This is a great idea
.
3
M y whole first week is like that. People coming up to me. Asking me polite questions. Then avoiding me like the plague. It’s excruciating.
Stewart calls from Spring Meadow, but he can only talk for ten minutes. Somehow we can’t seem to keep the conversation going. It’s still nice. But also weirdly frustrating.
On Friday night my mother drives me to a Teens at Risk support group Dr. Bernstein runs. There’s, like, eight of us. We go around the room and talk about our “issues.” These are mostly rich girls from my neighborhood. It’s not that their problems aren’t real. It’s just so tedious the way they talk about them. It’s all therapy-speak and
my wants
and
my needs
and
me, me, me
.
At least the people at rehab were funny. At least Vern always had good dirty jokes.
Halfway through, I can’t stand it anymore and I bail. I go outside and sit on the cement steps in the cold. The social worker woman comes out and tries to talk to me, and I’m like: “I’m fine, really I am. I just can’t deal with this right now.”
So she goes back inside and I put my head down on my knees and I ask God to just kill me, I can’t take this. I can’t live like this. School is impossible. I have a semester’s worth of homework to make up. I have no friends. I have nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to talk to.
No wonder Vern gets drunk every year.
4
A nother week passes, and then one night at dinner my dad hands me a gift-wrapped box. It’s a present. I open it and it’s a new phone. This is a little risky since I’m famous for losing cell phones. Or dropping them in toilets. Or throwing them at cops.
They make a big deal of giving it to me, congratulating me on a job well done. My dad tells me I’m doing great, everyone is so proud of me. He says he feels like he’s got his old Maddie back.
I have no idea what that means, since all I do is walk around in a suicidal haze. But whatever. I thank them politely and escape upstairs to my room as soon as I can. I don’t know who to call exactly. I’m not allowed to call Stewart after six at the halfway house. I can’t really call Jake or Raj. There’s no one else I can think of.
But then I remember someone.
I dig through my desk and find a certain scrap of paper. Trish’s number. I haven’t called her since she left Spring Meadow. I guess I haven’t been desperate enough. I’m desperate enough now.
I put her number in and dial it.
It rings. I wait. I get nervous in my stomach.
“Hello?” says a sleepy voice.
“Hello?” I say.
Similar Books
