Page 101 of That Pucking New Girl

Getting under the water, I scrub my body, wash my face, and shampoo and condition my hair. One of the things that drives me insane is the fact that my hair is curling in ways it never did before because it no longer has the weight of my longer layers. I may have to pull it back in twists tonight while it’s wet so it won’t bounce in my face.

Annoyed even at the thought, I turn off the water and grab my towel. After drying off, I use my body oil to moisturize, happy when I find it still smells pleasant and doesn’t make me nauseous. Turning toward the mirror, I find small, clear hair ties and get to work on my hair before working some product into the rest of it. I’m not going to bother with any other effort into my appearance since I’m going to be wearing a devil mask the entire night.

My tongue slides over my teeth and I grimace, reminded by the fact I desperately need to brush my teeth still. Grabbing the toothbrush, I get to work eradicating any lingering hint that my body is angry with me. I don’t want to focus on the fact I might be growing a baby inside of me.

The idea is too big, and I’m not ready to confront it yet. I’m a month and a half away from my eighteenth birthday, and simply trying to survive until then.

Anything outside of that is something I need to put on the back burner. Actually, speaking of that, I need to ask Elijah something.

Making quick work of getting dressed, I pull my boots on and grab the costume head before I walk out the door.

The house is full of people chatting and babies giggling, and I love how it feels like a home. Walking around the corner into the kitchen, I watch as Elijah slides a piece of buttered toast onto the island.

“I tried to time it right so it would still be warm,” he says, shrugging. “You took longer than I expected.”

“Sorry,” I say, climbing on the stool. “I ended up taking a shower. I don’t know how to manage the shorter hair yet. It’s a pain.”

“It looks fine to me,” he says.

“That’s a very guy thing to say,” Rachelle says, joining us.

Elijah freezes for a second before relaxing against the island.

“Why is that?” he asks.

“Well, for one thing, your hair acts differently when it’s shorter,” she says. “It means you have to learn a different system of caring for it and styling it.”

“Yes!” I agree, taking a bite of my toast. I’m suddenly starving, which is a really odd feeling after hating the idea of food for the past few days.

I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and I’ll happily accept this. The toast is gluten free, the butter is salted, and it may as well be the best thing I’ve ever eaten for all I care.

It’ll help get me through the next couple of hours, and I’ll try to eat a protein bar in the locker room during the breaks.

“This look is cute, by the way,” Rachelle adds, gazing at me affectionately.

“Thanks, I wanted it out of my face without having it become a frizz puff,” I say. Remembering my question, I sigh, “I don’t think I’m going to be comfortable working with Dr. Dowdall anymore. Outside of the fact she didn’t protect my personal information, she also was working on a new diagnosis without my knowledge. I’m not comfortable speaking with her anymore.”

“Then I’ll make sure to tell her we’re discontinuing services,” Rachelle says easily. “Out of curiosity, was the diagnosis on the flyers?”

“Oh yeah,” I mutter. “Dissociative depressive disorder is what it said. I mean, at this point, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. I’ve been taking my meds every day, but I still feel like I’m swinging from emotion to emotion. I did talk to her about how I tend to detach from the world when bad shit happens, which is why I lost track of time during the student body’s pranks.”

“Those weren’t pranks. A prank is only a prank if you find it funny. None of what they did was humorous,” Elijah growls. “They were hits to your emotional well being, and if I could get the names of everyone involved, I’d get Jared to sue their parents. Fucking assholes.”

“Be that as it may,” I say, “I wonder if it could be why the new psych med isn’t working. It’s been enough time, right?”

“Let’s look at getting a follow up appointment with the psychiatrist the hospital suggested,” Rachelle says. “Do you want me to call Dr. Dowdall to remove you as a client? She really should have protected your privacy better. The woman could lose her license if we decided to pursue that. Do you want to?”

“No,” I grumble. “That sounds like a lot of drama. It’s not her fault that I have assholes trying to ruin my life.”

“Well, your life definitely isn’t ruined,” Rachelle says, watching as I finish my toast.

“Water?” Elijah asks, his brown eyes saying a lot. I don't want to bring anything else up right now, so I nod as I thank him. He gets me a large bottle of water, adds my electrolytes to it, along with a solid pinch of salt. Ugh, nothing says I love you and I’ll keep your secrets more than that.

Picking up my costume’s head and water bottle, I walk out with Rachelle toward the side door as I say goodbye. Jared joins us and I raise my brow at him.

“Nacio wanted to come, but I have him on bedtime duties,” he explains.

“Ah, don’t spray Daddy!” I hear Nacio yell from upstairs as I hide a chuckle.