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He was staring at her, smiling like he thought she was hot for him. She rolled her eyes and looked away.
“Well, it’s seven o’clock, so we can get started,” Dr. Bloom said. “As you can see, we have a new member: Marah. Who would like to make the introductions?”
There was a lot of looking away and chewing on nails and shrugging. Finally, Magenta Hair said, “Oh, hell. I’m Ricki. Dead mom. The fat chick’s Denise. Her grandma has Parkinson’s. Todd hasn’t spoken in four months, so we don’t know what his problem is. Elisa stopped eating when her dad killed himself. And Pax is here by court order. Dead sister. ” She looked at Marah. “What’s your story?”
Marah felt everyone looking at her.
“I … I…”
“Mr. Football didn’t ask her to the prom,” the heavy girl said, giggling nervously at her own joke.
A few of the other kids snickered.
“We’re not here to judge each other,” Dr. Bloom said. “You all know how much that hurts, don’t you?”
That shut them up.
“Cutter,” Pax said quietly. He sat slouched in his chair, one arm draped across Magenta Hair’s chair and one leg crossed over the other. “But why?”
Marah looked up sharply.
“Paxton,” Dr. Bloom said. “This is a support group. Life is hard. You’ve all learned that at an early age. Each of you has experienced a profound loss and you know how hard it can be to keep going when a loved one has died or someone charged with caring for you has betrayed that sacred trust. ”
“My mother died,” Marah said evenly.
“Would you like to talk about her?” Dr. Bloom asked gently.
Marah couldn’t look away from Paxton. His golden gaze mesmerized her. “No. ”
“Who would?” he said quietly.
“How about you, Paxton?” Dr. Bloom said. “Do you have something you’d like to share with the group?”
“Never to suffer would never to have been blessed,” he said with a negligent shrug.
“Now, Paxton,” Dr. Bloom said, “we’ve talked about hiding behind other people’s words. You’re almost twenty-two years old. It’s time to find your own voice. ”
Twenty-two.
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say,” Paxton said. Although he was slumped down and appeared uninterested in everyone around him, his eyes held an intensity that was unnerving, almost scary.
Court order.
Why would the court order someone to grief therapy?
“On the contrary, Paxton,” Dr. Bloom said evenly, “you’ve been coming here for months and you haven’t talked about your sister once. ”
“And I won’t,” he said, looking now at his black fingernails.
“The court—”
“Can order me to come, but it can’t make me talk. ”
Dr. Bloom pursed her lips in disapproval. She stared at Paxton for a long moment and then smiled again, turning slightly so that her attention was on Stick Girl. “Elisa, perhaps you’d like to tell us more about how eating went this week…”
An hour later, as if by some secret alarm, the kids lurched out of their seats and rushed from the room. Marah hadn’t been prepared. By the time she bent down to retrieve her purse from the floor and stood up, only Dr. Bloom was still there.
“I hope that wasn’t too painful,” the doctor said, walking over to her. “Beginnings can be difficult. ”
