A Tragic Kind of Wonderful(60)

“What’s that mean? Tina called me that last week.”

“Tonta means idiot. But if you smile and say tontita it means silly little girl.”

“I don’t think she was smiling.”

“Well, you did disappoint her. You know, when we first met.”

I think back. “When you guys were chasing me away from tables in the cafeteria?”

“Testing you. Seeing if you’d stand up to us. But no, you kept running away, tail between your legs. Till Annie rescued you.”

Before I can reply to this, Dr. Dharni calls, “Mel? Time to go.”

“Remember,” Sofia says. “We don’t talk on the outside. At least not like this.”

“You mean you won’t come to my birthday party?”

She smiles and shakes her head like I’m a silly little girl, a tontita. “Not in this lifetime. But if you need something for it, I can hook you up. I know a guy.”

Dr. Dharni shows me into a side room where reunions can be private. Mom and Dad jump up and smother me in hugs and kisses and apologies and I let them.

When I’m standing apart again, Dad says, “You sure you’re ready? You can stay longer if you want to.”

“I didn’t want to come in the first place.”

His face tightens and I quickly say, “I’m kidding. I’m sorry I lost it. But if I signed up for the fourteen-day plan, I probably wouldn’t pass eleventh grade. Aren’t you proud of me? I arranged to have my breakdown during spring break so it wouldn’t ruin my life.”

He hugs me again. “Doing what you need to do is always the best thing.”

I clamp down hard on my emotions. I know a lot of why I got locked up was because I couldn’t stop crying. Better not start again now.

Dad lets go. While everyone shakes hands with Dr. Dharni, thanking him, I see Dr. Jordan stand up from a chair across the room.

“Forgive me?” he asks.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You do. I promised your grandmother I’d do whatever I could to help you. Being friends is a bonus. I hope I can do both, but keeping you safe will always come first. I’m sorry.”

“I’m upset with David for tricking me, not with you for asking him to.”

“It was quite a struggle. He really didn’t want to lie. I’m afraid I used his feelings for you against him to change his mind.”

He hugs me. He already knew about my broken brain so I don’t have to worry he’ll start treating me different. Besides, he’s family now. The grandfather I never had.

Walking through reception, someone taps my shoulder. I turn and barely have time to see it’s HJ before she stoops and wraps her arms around my waist and lifts me up in a hug much stronger than her bony frame seems capable of. I hug her back, our ears pressed together, my feet dangling.

She starts walking without letting go. She says, “You got dragged in here so you get to be carried out.”

“Joan,” Dad says. “Let the girl have some dignity.”

I squeeze HJ tighter and she keeps carrying me. Mom and Dad follow a few steps behind. Dad shakes his head but he’s smiling a little.

Dr. Jordan holds open the glass doors for HJ to carry me out. She sets me down and grabs my head with both hands and kisses me hard and long on my cheek.

“Happy early birthday, kiddo.”

I can tell it’ll take scrubbing to get the lipstick off my cheek again this year, but I’m going to leave it.

It’s bright outside. I squint and turn to the parking lot to look for the car—Zumi’s right there and almost tackles me except HJ catches us.

“I’m sorry, Mel!” Zumi whispers in my ear. “I couldn’t just leave!”

I see Connor standing off to the side, looking uncomfortable.

“I love you, Mel,” Zumi says. “You hear me? I love you.”

I haven’t hugged her back. I want to crawl away to my dark warm bedroom and hide.

“C’mon, Zumi,” Connor says. “She just wants to go home.”

I hug her back loosely. “I love you, too.” It sounds like someone else is saying the words.

Connor puts a hand on Zumi’s shoulder and gently pulls her away. I can’t face her. I don’t want to see the look in her eyes now that she knows what I am.

She shoves something into my hand. An envelope.

“Call me later?” Zumi says. Connor pulls her back some more. She lets him and says, “As soon as you … you know … as soon as you can. Okay? Promise me?”

I need to go home, into my room, before anyone figures out I’m not much better than seventy-two hours ago. I’m not as worked up or crying but I’m still mixed, and … there was something stabilizing about the quiet empty big room with its clean white walls … but outside, with all these people, talking, hugging … I’m ramping up again.

Only worse this time because now everyone’s staring at me.

*

As soon as we get home I move my bike out to the garage. Dad asks what I’m doing and I say, “Putting it where it belongs.” No one says anything to that, and I feel bad for saying it. Nobody knows the reason I ran to the bridge on foot was because I couldn’t get my bike out of the house without being heard. I have no immediate plans on doing it again, but if I need to, I want my bike.