Page 70 of The Glass Girl

I tell her no. That I had a boyfriend, but we didn’t dothat.

Are you on birth control?

No.

Have you had any alcohol or drugs in the past forty-eight hours?

No. Well, the painkillers.

Are you suffering from depression, anxiety, or self-harm?

“I’m fifteen,” I say. “I’m sad and anxious all the time, but I don’t cut myself, no.”

They keep asking questions and I’m getting more tired. My brain feels like mud.

They take a blood test.

The nurse examines my face. She gives me two ibuprofen and tells me to ask for more if I need it.

“I can’t have what they gave me in the hospital?” I ask, looking at the ibuprofen in the palm of my hand. That stuff in the hospital was really good. If that’s what people are stuffing up their butts, I can kind of see why.

She barks out a laugh. “Oh god, no, honey, this is rehab. We’re trying to get youoffstuff like that. What, you want a cocktail with dinner, too?”

Fran tells me I can get dressed.

—

Instead of taking me back to the room, she takes me to the vending machine. It’s chained to the wall.

“Chips, chocolate, what would you like? It’s going to be a bit before dinner. We need to finish the others.”

“I’m not really hungry,” I say.

“Something to drink?”

“I left my Pedialyte in the van.”

“I can get you more of that.” She makes a note on her phone. “Have this for now.”

She presses some buttons on the machine and out pops a Gatorade. She hands it to me.

Back in the room, Fran points to Holly. “You’re up.”

I can tell by the way Fran looks at Holly that she absolutely knows she took something. I peer at Holly closely. Her eyes are glassy and she’s not trembling anymore. Whatever it was must be kicking in.

Brandy is asleep, her hair a glossy fan on the mattress, so I lie down on my bunk. I open the Gatorade and sip it slowly, staring at the bottom of the empty top bunk.

The one thing I notice is how quiet it is here. Just faint traces of noise: maybe the nurse and Fran in the room with Holly, talking, but nothing else.

It’s peaceful.

But not the kind of peace I like.

I’m so tired. It feels like my body has been beaten with rocks, turned inside out and back again.

Now there’s a distinct sound of laughter far down the hallway. Thin, desperate.

Holly.

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