Cut by McCormick Patricia

Author:McCormick, Patricia [McCormick, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: namelos
Published: 2009-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Mom

I take the calico name thing and start to walk back to my room.

“Wait,” says Ruby. “There’s something else.”

I try to act like I don’t care what it is, like I’m not interested, like I’m not hoping for anything good, anything from my dad, as Ruby hands me a small white envelope.

I know as soon as I see the front, with my name in blue marker, it’s from Sam. Inside is a hockey card. Not just any card, though, it’s his Wayne Gretzky his favorite. There’s no note, just the card.

I check to make sure no one’s around. Then I hold the card up so Ruby can see. “My little brother,” I say. “He loves hockey.”

She puts a hand to her chest. “That’s sweet,” she says. “Real sweet.”

I slip Wayne Gretzky into my pocket and go back to my room.

“Where would you like to start today?” you say.

“I don’t care.”

You cross your legs.

“You decide,” I say.

“OK,” you say. “How are you getting along with the other girls in your group?”

I shrug. “Fine.”

You wait.

“Sydney, my roommate, she’s nice,” I say. “So is this other girl, Tara.” You look pleased.

“And Debbie, she’s this very heavy girl who’s kind of a know-it-all, but she’s OK. She tries to take care of this other girl, Becca.”

“Hmm,” is all you say.

“I’m not sure about Becca. She got so sick from not eating she had a heart attack. She acts like she wants to get better, but—”

“But …”

“Never mind.”

I wait for you to bug me to go on. You don’t.

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” I say.

“Everything you say in here is confidential.”

“Well, she … I … she’s still throwing up her food.”

Your expression doesn’t change.

“And hiding food, too. She pretends to eat it, but she’s really throwing it away.”

You uncross your legs. “How do you know?”

“I watch.”

You nod.

“It makes me feel sort of weird that I know what she’s doing. It also makes me feel really bad for Debbie, since Debbie does nice things for her like covering her up with a sweater when she’s sleeping.”

Talking about Debbie and Becca and Sydney and Tara is surprisingly easy. I realize I know a lot about them; I guess I even sort of like them. I check the clock to see how long it is till lunch.

Your chair groans. “But I understand from the staff here that you’re not talking in Group yet.”

Yet. You say this like it’s simple, inevitable. My lips are chapped; I pull the corner of my lower lip into my mouth, then bite down a little.

“Can you tell me why?”

I shrug, for the millionth time.

You tap your lip.

“There’s this other girl,” I say. “She’s new.”

“Oh?”

“This new girl, Amanda, she wears shorts and flip-flops …”

You lift an eyebrow, ever so slightly.

“… like it’s the middle of summer.”

There’s a long, long hush. Far off, I can hear a plane boring through the sky.

“She does what I do.”

I watch for your expression to change, for there to be some slight shift from neutral to … to what? Disgusted? Disapproving? You wait calmly.

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