“Morgan,” comes another voice. A familiar one. “Le Fay.”
I’m hallucinating.
No. What? No. She?—
That can’t be right.
I’m still trying to puzzle what the fuck is happening when she—Morgan—my best friend, maybe my only friend—sweeps into the room.
She looks exactly the same. Except, no, the outfit is new: white, head to toe, very après ski, complete with a pearl-colored down vest and fur-trimmed boots.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Morgan says, acknowledging the room but offering no hand to shake. “I’m a…peer mental health advocate. From Caliburn. University. Where Gwenna studies.” Her perfume, heady and floral, wafts over me as she sits down to my left.
The director stares at Morgan, goggle-eyed but blank-faced, as if she’s debating whether or not she should sic the security guard on her. But before she can say anything, Jessie speaks up.
“Gwenna?”
I look from Morgan to my therapist, see the concern written on her features.
Her question from earlier echoes in my mind.
Any friends, Gwenna?
Apparently, I answer. Outwardly, all I do is nod.
“No, she…Morgan can stay,” I say. “If that’s all right.”
I glance at Morgan, and her eyes find mine.
I’ve got you.
I don’t sense it from her so much as…hearit, somehow, even though I know she didn’t say anything out loud.
Still. If this is a hallucination, I’ll take it.
“I believe we do allow for a support person to be present at a case conference,” Jessie puts in mildly. “Usually a family member, but…”
The director pauses just a beat longer.
“Very…well.” She regroups. “As I was saying, after this sort of incident, protective care is what we recommend for?—”
“Question.” Morgan puts her hand in the air. “What type of incident, exactly? I’d like to get up to speed.”
“The…a security incident,” the director says.
Morgan nods, frowning. “I see. Which Gwenna…caused?” Another burst of floral and citrus washes over me as Morgan tips her head.
“Well…” The director looks from Grace to the security guard. Grace winces and tilts her head sideways—anot reallykind of move. The security guard pulls the corners of his mouth down and just shakes his head, a physical version ofnope.
The director takes a deep breath.
“It’s less about who’s at fault,” she says, “and more about ensuring that residents in a state to…befall some kind of harmare supported.”
“Actually,” Jessie speaks up again. “If I may?”
No one stops her.
“In my professional opinion, Gwenna’s at no significant risk to herself, or others. Frankly, I’m not sure she ever has been.” Jessie’s glasses flash. “I’d attest to that.”
