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"Oh, I see. It wasn't stupid for me, yesterday," Star said, turning those ebony eyes of hers into tiny hot coals, "but it's stupid for you today."
"I don't think it was stupid for me either," Misty said, wide-eyed. "I don't!" she emphasized when I gave her a look that said, "Spare me."
Cat kept her eyes down. I felt like crawling on the floor, turning over on my back and looking up at her and asking, "Do you think it's all right to talk about your pain? And when you do, do we have to all lie down on the floor like this and look up at you?"
"You sat here and listened and made your comments about my life with no trouble yesterday," Star muttered.
"This isn't supposed to be show me yours and I'll show you mine. I didn't say I was going to do this for sure. I don't owe you anything just because you did it," I declared.
"I didn't say you did. You think I'm dying to hear your story?"
"Good, so I won't tell you anything," I said and practically turned my back on her.
"Very often," Dr. Marlowe said softly after a heavy moment of silence, "we use anger as a way of avoiding unpleasant things. Actually, anger only prolongs the unpleasantness and that only makes it harder for us:'
"Us?" I fired at her.
"I'm human therefore I'm not perfect, so I say we, us. I understand these things from my own experiences, which helps me help you," she said. "Don't forget, I've been in the center, too. I know it's difficult and painful, but it helps:'
"I don't see how just talking about myself is going to help me." I looked at Misty. "Do feel any better about yourself since you talked?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know if I feel any better. It felt like I unloaded some weight, though. Yeah," she said tilting her head in thought, "maybe I do feel better. What about you, Star?"
Star turned away.
"She doesn't care about what you feel or don't feel. She's just trying to run away," she said, jerking her head back toward me.
"Excuse me?" I said. "Run away? From what?"
"This is a process," Dr. Marlowe interjected, raising her voice a little. "A process that must be built on trust. I've said this before. You've got to try, Jade. Surely you've heard some things during these past two days that have helped you look at your own situation a little better. If anything, at least you know you're not alone."
"Oh no?" I said. "Not alone?" I stared at Misty for a moment. "I liked one thing you said during your session. I liked your classifying us as orphans with parents. Believe me, Dr. Marlowe:' I said, turning back to her, "We're alone."
"The OWP! Let's get some T-shirts made up!" Misty exclaimed with a bounce that made her look like she was sitting on springs.
"Yeah, it could be a whole new club," Star said dryly. She looked at me. "Or a new street gang with a Beverly as our leader."
"A Beverly?"
I shook my head. This is impossible. I shouldn't have agreed to take part in it.
"Just forget this," I muttered.
"You see, it's hard to begin, right?" Misty asked.
"It's because my situation is a lot different from yours," I declared.
"Sure," she said with a smirk that twisted her little nose. "You're special. We're not."
"Look. You told about your father leaving you and your mother and moving in with a girlfriend, right?" "So?"
I looked at Star.
"And you told about parents that have deserted you and now you and your brother live with your grandmother, right?"
"Like she said, so?"
