Page 110 of The Glass Girl

Her voice is filled with longing.

Charlotte sighs. “I miss counting out Valium and Xanax and planning what my day would be like with them in my body. Is it the mall? Is it TV? Is it actually making it to school, only now school is so much better because it’s all rounded and not sharp edges anymore? Am I topping off my day with some cognac from my dad’s extremely wonderful bar? Yes, yes, I am.”

Gideon sucks in her breath and leans back on her pillow, thin arms behind her head. “I miss everything but I miss nothing. I’m here, but when I get out, I have nowhere to go. That was the deal. This was the last thing my parents said they’d do for me. The last time.” She pauses. “I can’t afford to get nostalgic. If I relapse on the outside, there’s nothing to lift me back up. Not after what I did.”

“What did you—” Brandy asks, but Charlotte lifts a finger to her lips and says, “Shh.”

“What do you miss, Bella? Out with it,” Gideon says. Her voice sounds sleepy.

“I—I…,” I stammer. “Mine is just…I mean, I liked vodka with Sprite. We—my friends and me—called it Sprodka.”

Gideon bursts out laughing. “Oh god. The starter drink for babies.”

“I’m not a baby,” I say defensively. “I drank NyQuil, too. And the one night, I got really stoned and drank a lot of stuff I’d never had before, so—”

Charlotte pulls her blankets back up to her chest. “Oh,Baby Bella. What I wouldn’t do to be like you again, new and fresh and thinking booze was the best. Let’s talk in a few years when you’re back here and have a little more under your belt.”

“I’m notcomingback here,” I say. “I’m never coming back here.”

Charlotte and Gideon exchange looks. Brandy has fallen back asleep.

“Me neither, Bella,” Holly says, giving me a small smile. “I’m never coming back here, either.”

Day Thirteen

Dear Me—

I would like not to be here.

I’m not sure I have anything positive to say today.

I’m up and down, like a plastic bag in an unpredictable wind. Empty, blowing no particular way.

I’m worried about Holly.

But I don’t think it’s right to just come out and ask someone, what was done to you?

Because I think I know.

And that’s disgusting.

I don’t understand the world. At all. How is she supposed to live like that?

If drugs are the only thing that make her feel better, why do people keep trying to take them away?

Why doesn’t the world have anything else to offer her but to live with her pain and suffering?

I did laps in the pool today for the first time. It felt comforting to be in the water and just hear the sound of the water and not all the sadness here, including my own.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said my parents can’t come.

But if they can’t make time for me, why should I make time for them?

It seemed like the days were going by really quickly, but now it seems like they’ve slowed.

Now it seems like I’ll never get out.

And what even will happen when I do?