Fran has me lift my arms and spread my legs. She pats me gently all over, slides her fingers in the pockets of my sweatpants and sweatshirt, and then grabs a plastic cup from the tray table. “Bathroom’s in there. There’s a gown hanging on the door, so put that on for Search. No bra, no underwear, nosocks.”
I go into the bathroom and do everything she says, avoiding my face in the mirror above the sink. I pee in the cup and screw the cap back on. The cup has my name and birthdate,Leahey, Isabella, 5/30/2008,and today’s date. I do some quick math in my head.
December 1. If I have to be in here for thirty days, that means I’m here for Christmas (oh my god, Christmas inhere? What can that possibly entail?) and then home through school break and then one week until back to school and all those kids and—
Don’t think about that,my brain tells me.They’re probably all talking about you anyway, so really, be glad you aren’t there. They’ve all seen that video by now. Heard about you.
I don’t know what to do with my clothes, so I just fold them very neatly and leave them on the sink. Then I open the door.
Fran and a woman in nurse’s scrubs are standing there. The nurse has latex gloves on.
“Bella,” Fran says, “if this is going to make you anxious or upset in any way, or if you have physical or emotional barriers to a physical search, like sexual trauma, please let me know now.”
“I don’t have anything to hide,” I say. “I don’t know why you have to do this. You’re basically feeling up kids, you know.”
“Honey,” the nurse says, but not in a mean way. “I’ve had kids shove baggies of Oxy up their butt.”
“Remember the kid who duct-taped a pint of schnapps to his stomach and thought he’d get away with it?” Fran says.
“Mm-hmm,” the nurse says. “And the one who hid the pills in her dreads?”
They chuckle. I can’t believe they find this funny.
“We’ve seen it all,” Fran tells me.
“It’ll be over in just a second,” the nurse says. “And I have very gentle hands.”
No one has ever touched me like she is about to touch me, not even Dylan.
I start to tremble.
Did my parents know this would be part of it, me getting my very private parts felt up? Did they sign off on this?
I think…I think I hate them both at this very moment for the humiliation I’m about to undergo.
“What if I refuse?” I say suddenly.
Fran shrugs. “Then you stay in Detox longer and you stay at Sonoran Sunrise longer, Your parents signed for you at the hospital. You initialed the form, too. This is what you signed up for. Or you can leave right now, remember? We won’t stop you. But it’s dark out and getting colder. If you have nothing to hide, this will go very quickly.”
They’re both watching me carefully.
I wish I was brave like that. To run. To push both of them against the wall and take off into the desert in my flapping gown.
But I’m not.
My face aches and my bones are tired and I just want to go to sleep.
I’m just a stupid and scared girl with nowhere to go.
“Can I close my eyes?” I ask finally.
“Yes,” Fran says.
—
When the nurse is done, she takes off her gloves and drops them in the trash. “Clean,” she tells Fran, who writes something in a folder. Then she starts asking me a bunch of questions.
Are you sexually active?