The Brokenhearted by Amelia Kahaney

Author:Amelia Kahaney
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Social Issues, Love & Romance, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, General, Adolescence
ISBN: 9780062230942
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2013-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

“Welcome back, Anthem,” Principal Bang says, sizing me up from behind her enormous desk. She scoots her short, round body closer to me, and her professional smile falters.

“Thank you,” I say warily, waiting for her to tell me why I’ve been pulled out of homeroom on my first day back at school. I’ve showered and combed the knots out of my hair, but I can’t wash away the hollows in my cheeks. I swallow what feels like a mouthful of gravel and zero in on the mole above her right eyelid. The mole is safe. Her small, dark eyes set deep into her pudgy face—eyes that are looking at me a little too carefully—are not.

Principal Bang purses her lips, her chubby hands tented under her chin, her elbows propped onto her desk blotter. Behind her is the Cathedral Wall of Power—a grid of hundreds of framed pictures of successful politicians, CEOs, talk show hosts, athletes, and other luminaries who have passed through the school’s hallowed halls since it opened two hundred years ago. “You do not look terribly well,” she sniffs. “Are you sure you’re well enough to be here?”

Nothing about me is well, but after Ford’s visit, I started feeling like maybe enough was enough. I announced my “recovery” to my mother yesterday, then spent all day cleaning my room, furiously scrubbing and vacuuming between long bouts of staring blankly into space. And today, despite the sadness wrapped around me like a lead overcoat, I scraped myself out of bed early and got to school an hour before the morning bell.

“I’m fine.” My voice sounds hollow and far away, like I’m hearing it through water. I clear my throat and force my spine to straighten up from my slumped position in the uncomfortable chair facing Bang’s desk. I curl my mouth into a smile, hoping I’m doing it correctly. It’s been so long.

“I feel I should tell you there has been talk of an anxiety assessment for you.”

My body recoils at these words. “It was just a bad flu. Mentally, I’m . . .” I tap the side of my head, groping for adjectives. “Clean. Calm. Collected.” There is no way I’m signing up for a day in the nurse’s office being interviewed and observed by a team of psychiatrists.

Bang narrows her piggish eyes and cocks her head. “With everything you’ve been through lately . . .” Traces of a knowing smile flash across her face as she leans closer. “Wouldn’t a little MoodEase help?”

I stare at her openmouthed. I’ve never heard an adult speak so openly about Pharms, especially an adult who regularly goes on Channel Ten to rant about the illegal ones circulating in the city. The room starts to shrink around me, the smothering velvet curtains on the tall, narrow windows creeping closer. Can Bang force an assessment on me?

Assessments are for problem kids. I’ve never caused trouble at school, except for outranking Olive Ann in the senior class. The kids who are on MoodEase

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