Page 79 of The Glass Girl

“Wait,” Billy says suspiciously. “This looks like school. If I wanted to do school, I’d beatschool. Not that I want to behere,but I did not thinkheremeant school.”

We’re in the activity room after running with Chuck, eating, and taking showers. My body is sore from the run. AlthoughI’m glad I finally took a shower and changed out of my puke clothes, it was also weird to shower with Brandy right outside the door. I did it as quickly as possible.

We’re sitting at round tables. There are easels and giant buckets full of art supplies and Legos against one wall, and things like a beanbag toss and plastic darts near another. There’s a wonky mural of upraised hands reaching toward a starry night sky, which I didn’t notice before.

Fran has given us stapled packets of paper. She takes a sip of her coffee.

“Not school, Billy,” she says. “Not a test or a quiz. Just some looking inward.”

I didn’t sleep well last night. I kept tossing and turning, which hurt my face. I couldn’t settle down. I kept doing the math in my head, like,I have been here two days. But I have been away from home for a total of seven days. I haven’t had a drink in seven days, but the first three days in the hospital might not count because I had so much alcohol in my system, right? So I was okay. And they gave me painkillers. I was tired the first two days here and mostly slept, so maybe that doesn’t count. But now it’s going on seven days without alcohol and I’m getting a little anxious about that.

Those things just ran through my head. Over and over. Sometimes my brain won’t stop.

I’m fidgety at this table, rolling a pencil between my palms.

The first sheet of paper is titledDecision-Making Worksheet: Cost-Benefit Analysis.Under that, it saysThe substance or activity to consider is,and then there’s a blank line, where I guess we’re supposed to write whatever it is that got us here. Over two blank squares, it saysUSINGandDOING.

Above the left-hand column, it saysAdvantages: Benefits and Rewards,and above the right,Disadvantages: Costs and Risks.The bottom two squares are titledNOT usingandNOT doing,and onesquare saysAdvantages: Benefits and Rewardsand the other saysDisadvantages: Costs and Risks.

Billy groans. “Thisisschool.” He drops his pencil on the table.

Brandy takes some colored pencils from a bucket and draws hearts in her grids.

Billy is right. Who knew there was going to be school in rehab? This assignment is as stupid as the forms Tracy tried to get me to fill out in the hospital.

“The point is to think about what, say, drinking does for you,” Fran says. “Does it have positives? What are the negatives to your drinking? Or if you like your pills, why? How does getting high on Oxy help you? Are there ways it makes your life harder? Less manageable?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says. “I feel pretty good when I’m high. That’s a plus right there.”

“Sometimes we spend so much time trying to get high or drunk that we forget about the risks involved,” Fran says. “Emotional risks. Financial risks. Familial risks. Friendship risks.”

Friendship risks.Like me, with Amber. Maybe Dylan, too.

Kristen certainly doesn’t count. She can be fun, but she doesn’t really care about people; look what she did tome.

Cherie? She was pissed at me about the art project, but that wasn’t really my fault, was it? It was the Wi-Fi’s fault. Granted, I might have a been a little woozy, but that didn’t stop me from trying to do the work. I mean, I guess I could have done it earlier. Remembered to do it earlier, anyway.

Dawn? She’s an unknown. She’s too new, though I feel pretty bad for forgetting about her during lunch when I had to print out that paper for Deavers.

I stop rolling the pencil. Look at those squares on the paper.

“What’s this ‘substance’ line for?” Brandy asks.

“It’s whatever you do. Your poison of choice.” Fran smiles.

“Didyouever have a poison?” Billy asks Fran. “Me, I’m kinda a Mom’s-painkiller type person. Valium. Stuff that evens you out. Stuff that has an end date, you know? Like, I know it’ll last four to twelve hours, depending on how many I take. If I don’t have a lot, I can supplement with my granddad’s beer. He doesn’t care. Then it’s smoooooth sailing.”

I perk up at the wordgranddad.I guess Billy and I have that in common. Drinking with our grandparents.

Billy looks almost dreamy, thinking about it.

Fran sets down her coffee cup. I think she’s the oldest person I’ve met here so far. Gray hair spiking from her head. Hiking boots. Roses tattooed on her wrinkly forearms.

“Child,” she says to Billy, “you name it, I did it. If it messed you up, I was all in. But then I watched my very best friend die, right in front of me. Under a tree in Anza Park on Stone. I’ve been in recovery now for seventeen years. And yes, some of what you’ll do here will seem like school, because, like me, you need tolearn.You will not live if you cannot learn how to live.”

I sigh. This place is going to be an endless source of feel-good affirmations and slogans, just like those posters in the lobby when we arrived.

I look at my sheet and let out a long breath. I writealcoholin thesubstanceline.

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