Page 48 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Doubt it. What about you, Cricket?”

I glare his way, but he only grins, satisfied to know I’m annoyed. “When are you going to start calling me by my name?”

“When you start being nice to me.”

“Seriously? When was the last time you were nice tome?”

“I gave you my dessert last night,” he defends.

“Yeah, only because you’re allergic to cherries.”

“Still, I didn’t give it to Wes.”

“He had already gone to rec.”

Sebastian dips another piece of pancake into the syrup while shaking his head. “There’s no winning with you, is there?”

He’s so irritating.

I pick up my carton of chocolate milk, only to have it splatter all over me when I open it too hastily. The three of them attempt to hold back their laughter as I wipe my face with my napkin.

The remainder of breakfast is spent with Sebastian enthralling Wes and Max with a story of how he and his lacrosse friends snuck into the girls’ locker room and tossed dead fish in the showers while the cheerleaders were practicing out on the field. They all laugh while I take bites of food, which only feeds my somber mood.

After we finish, everyone heads outside for our daily dose of exercise. Sitting against the wall in the shade, I watch the boys toss around the basketball on the court, even Jeremy is out there with them. A couple of girls sit on top of a picnic table with their heads tilted up to the sun as if they’re going to get a tan. Maybe they like the warmth on their skin. Max is off picking dandelion weeds and making wishes before blowing the seedlings into the air to spread their infestation.

Days here drag on. Minutes feel like hours that hold me hostage to these emotions that never leave. They only get worse, breeding on infinite time. All they do is multiply beneath the surface, pulling my skin taut and stretching my fibers too thin. It’s overwhelming, and I’m trapped, bound to their relentless power.

There’s no escaping this suffering.

I think about the light switch, the loose screw, the possibilities.

“Here. Make a wish,” Max says as she extends a dandelion out to me. “Come on.”

I pluck it from her fingers and stare at the ball of white fluff.

“You have to blow for it to come true.”

I wish something could fix this shattered hole inside me.Inhaling a deep breath, I pause for just a beat, and then I blow. The seedlings fall around my feet, and when I peer up, Max is smiling as if she’s done the Lord’s work.

I often wonder if He’s real. If there’s a Heaven and a Hell, and if so, is it true what they say about people like me—the forsaken?

I used to pray.

I was so desperate to be saved last time I was here that I started talking to God. For a moment, I thought He was listening, but here I am again, drowning in the same misery. Now, I just feel stupid.

Are souls even real? And if they are, why was mine folded up like a paper doll and cut into a million pieces? Because that’s how it feels. So many parts of me are missing, and no matter how much I try to find them, they simply aren’t there, so why even bother?

Not even my family is trying. They dumped me here and left me to rot.

If I’m not the one thing they can’t stand to lose, then what’s the point?

The boys erupt in cheers when Sebastian dunks the ball.

How has he managed to win these people over? He doesn’t even belong here.

I’m sick of this: the feelings—theunfeelings.

Needy for relief of any kind, I stand and walk over to Marcus, who’s with one of the other nurses.

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