Page 140 of Well Played

She sits still for a minute, keeping her eyes closed.

“What happened?”

“The light hurts. A lot.”

“And now?” The room has no direct sunlight coming in, and the blinds over the window are closed tight.

“It still hurts, but It’s getting better.”

“This is the photophobia the doctor warned about. He said it could last a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” She drops the forkful of whatever imposter meat they served her. “Are you serious?”

I nod, sitting back down in the chair beside her bed. “You’ll probably need help driving and getting around until it gets better.” She sighs and closes her eyes.

“My parents are going to love this. I won’t be able to go to work, and they’ll force me to move back home.”

There’s a tightening in my chest. Home is up north, not here. “No one’s forcing you to leave.”

Her eyes roll. “Oww,” she whines. “Remind me not to do that. You don’t understand. They’re relentless, telling me that moving here was a mistake. They’ll say this proves their point. My father is like a pit bull, and my mother is determined to make me see reason.”

“Then don’t tell them.” She looks like I just poured green goo out of my pointer finger. “Do you tell them everything?” I know she doesn’t, or else, according to her description, her parents would already be here. “You have other options.”

“Really? How can I leave my apartment and go to work if I can’t even tolerate light? Even better, how am I going to get to the grocery store or cook if I can’t drive?”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Things can turn around quickly. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

“Since when did you become Mr. Optimistic?”

“I’m a freaking ray of sunshine. You just don’t appreciate me.”

“Sunshine,” she sniggers. “Maybe in the middle of a lunar eclipse.”

My blood pressure rises so high I feel the blood pump in my ears. “You don’t pay close enough attention.” I strain not to sound as annoyed as I feel.

“I can’t eat. Can you take this away?”

I say nothing as I move the tray aside, and she closes her eyes again.That’s right, pretend I don’t exist.Too bad. I’m not playing that game.

“Is there anyone else you can ask for help?”

“No.”

“Not one person you can think of who would be willing to help you?” I’m trying to lead her in a direction, but she isn’t budging.

“I barely know or talk to the girls in the group, and they’re the closest things I have to friends here.”

“Just them? Nobody else in the group?”

“I wish I could ask you.” She mutters under her breath, but it’s so quiet, I’m certain I heard wrong.

“What’s that?” I lean in closer.

“Monkeys in a zoo.” Her cheeks turn a shade of red fire engines would envy. “I mean, if I could rent monkeys from a zoo, that would be great because they have hands like us and can turn knobs.”

“Monkeys, huh?” Is she too proud to ask for help?

“Yes.” She almost looks frightened.

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