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But she couldn’t worry too much about her mother right now. Not while she was in this hellhole. Detox, Burdette had called it. Ha!
Where would they send her next? Her counselor, the tall, black woman named Dr. Williams, had said she would be moved to semipermanent quarters with a roommate so that she could “socialize” and “feel comfortable” before being allocated a private room of her own. Translation: until we can trust you and don’t have to have someone spy on you twenty-four/seven. It was lame, lame, lame. To the max.
But she was stuck, at least for the moment, and the roommate, a girl she was introduced to at dinner, seemed about as interesting as one of those foreign films Edie was forever going on about. The roommate’s name was Nona Vickers, from somewhere in the Midwest.
Shaylee hadn’t gotten to talk to Nona yet, but already she suspected it was going to be a stiff, uncomfortable pairing. She’d been the new kid in school enough times to know what the drill was. At first she’d be isolated, looked upon with curiosity, and a few do-gooders might try to take her under their wings, but she would have to prove herself if she wanted to have any real friends, which she wasn’t sure she did. Not yet. Not until she’d scoped out this place.
If she was here that long.
She crossed her fingers. Hopefully, somehow, someway, Jules would get her out of here.
Shay got to her feet and yanked the bandage from her inner elbow, where that moose of a nurse had stuck in the syringe to take her blood. Walking around the perimeter of the room, she ignored the reading material scattered about. All that God stuff and self-help garbage that she had no use for had been fanned neatly on the coffee table.
Under a shelf holding books like The Answer or With Jesus in My Life an aquarium bubbled, its brightly colored fish swimming around fake rocks and grass. Shay had spent an hour watching a shy, tiny eel hide in its little cave near a clump of coral. Every once in a while, it would dare to stick its head out, only to retract it quickly.
“I know how you feel,” she’d confided to the timid fish.
At the
sound of her own voice, she looked over her shoulder, certain someone was watching her, listening to her, noting her every move. From the moment she’d stepped onto the seaplane, she’d felt hidden eyes observing her, eyes that were as malicious as they were curious.
Paranoid, Shay, you’re sounding paranoid. Any more of this and you’ll end up like Jules, fractured to the point of emotional paralysis. Oh, yeah, like you could ever live with her! Jules is a wreck.
And yet Shay knew, deep down, her sister was her only chance of salvation. The one person who would help her get out of this creepy institution.
No one she’d met here was going to be much help. The first person she’d come into contact with was the pilot, Spurrier. Around forty or so, with dark hair and eyes that forever scanned the horizon as he’d steered the plane. At least he’d been quiet, his headset in place, only making a little bit of small talk every now and then. From their brief conversation, she’d found out that he not only flew the seaplane but also was part of the teaching staff.
She’d also seen some of what she thought of as “the inmates” looking out windows as she’d passed through the campus. Then there were two guys in the clinic, around twenty years old, who had special privileges. One was Asian, the other Hispanic, and they seemed to work here. Through the glass wall separating the reception area from her “lockdown,” she’d observed the Asian guy working at a laptop, all business. His friend wasn’t quite as focused on work. He’d caught her eye a couple of times, even smiled slightly, but that look was quickly hidden whenever anyone else showed up. Nurse Ayres, the bruiser, was definitely the authority of the clinic.
Shay picked at the tiny scab on her arm and wondered if she could enlist the Hispanic boy’s help. He’d definitely been interested in her. She needed an ally, and he was the first potential friend she’d seen.
She considered the others she’d met here, mostly members of the staff, but cast them all aside until she remembered the guy who was going to be her “pod” leader, whatever that meant.
His hair had been a little longer than that of the others, his skin dark from hours in the sun, though it was still frickin’ winter. There was something about him that bothered her. What was his name?
Mister Trent?
Huh. The name Trent rang distant bells, but she was pretty certain she’d never met him. She would’ve remembered, because he was kind of hot.
Who was he? She sat on the arm of the couch, crossed her legs, and absently drummed her fingers on her thigh.
He was kind of sexy in that rugged, cowboy way so many women went for, but he was old. Definitely over thirty. Maybe thirty-four or thirty-five.
And then the youth minister. McAllister. She wondered where he was … if she’d see him soon. There was something about him that was at odds with his clerical collar….
The glass door to the living area opened suddenly.
Startled, Shay looked up to find Dr. Williams and her big smile sweeping through. With her was Nona, a pale girl with big doe-eyes and stringy brown hair that was so thin, the top of her ears parted the strands.
“Hi, Shaylee,” Dr. Williams said in that syrupy friendly voice Shay already hated. “I thought you and Nona could get to know each other a little better.”
“Hi,” Nona said with one of those ingratiating grins Shaylee detested.
Shay didn’t respond.
“Nona’s from Indianapolis,” Williams continued.
Big whoop.
