Asylum (Asylum, #1)(13)

“Powerless?”

“Yeah.”

“I know the feeling. That’s how it is with my parents, too. Nothing I can do and it totally blows.” She took a breath and then said, “You know, weird as it sounds, I feel kind of better now. I don’t usually talk about this stuff.”

“What about Jordan? I thought you two were tight.”

“No. I mean yes. Well, sure, but I’m more his confidant. His situation is so screwed up. . . . I don’t want to burden him with my problems too much. It doesn’t seem right, piling more on top of him.”

They sat in companionable silence. The grass at the foot of the trees was tall, and pale tendrils of mist wove through the overgrown tufts before fanning out across the lawn. The darkness was lifting slowly as dawn came. “You’re a good listener, Dan. You’ve got this whole wise vibe going on.”

“Thank you.” Dan smiled. “Wait, this isn’t that Buddha stuff again, is it? Because that seriously did not feel like a compliment.”

Abby laughed, and for a second Dan really did feel like he had helped. “Jordan definitely could have phrased that better, but I think he was on to something.” Still smiling, she scooted closer to him on the stoop. The feathers in her hair were gone, leaving her mass of black curls falling unevenly over one shoulder. For a moment, he thought she was about to kiss him, and he knew then and there he would ask her out on a date.

“So,” she said. “You want to know my trick for getting to sleep?”

“Go for it.”

“So I close my eyes, right? I mean, that’s a given. But I close my eyes and relax, and I pretend I’m a tree—”

Dan snorted, shrugging away when Abby smacked him on his shoulder.

“A tree?”

“Shut up! It works!”

“Uh-huh. Sure it does . . .”

“Fine, smarty-pants. I’m not going to tell you my secret then.” Abby crossed her arms and made a hmph sound.

“No, please, continue. Come on, I want to know more about . . . about . . . being a tree.” Laughter bubbled up through his words no matter how hard he tried to clamp down on it.

“I’m not telling you now.”

“Abby, please . . .”

“Ugh. Okay, but only because I like you.”

Dan missed part of her next sentence, because she had said she liked him.

“. . . you picture your individual roots, picture them moving down through the soil, going deeper and deeper, focusing on each one, one after another, down, down, cool and safe and surrounded . . .”

Just listening to her describe it was relaxing. Then she reached over and gently pressed her thumbs to his temples. “Every root moving through the earth, shifting the dirt, getting stronger. . . .” He stretched, enjoying the feeling that he could fall asleep.

“Ha. See? I told you it works.”

“Not bad, Branches.”

“We should probably get back inside,” she said, getting slowly to her feet and stretching. “And don’t call me Branches.”

“Acorn?”

“Not. Funny.”

“Whatever you say, Branches.” He covered a yawn.

“I’m serious.” She glared. “You call me Branches and I’ll call you Buddha.”

“All right, fine. Truce.” Dan followed her inside and closed the door behind them. It automatically locked. They walked to Abby’s floor.

“Well, night,” Dan said, rocking on his heels.

“Night. And remember . . .” Abby closed her eyes and struck a pose. “Be the tree.”

“I’ll try,” Dan said, watching her back as she headed off to her room.

And alone in his room, Dan did try. But when he closed his eyes, the tree became a vine and the vine became a shackle, and then it was the same nightmare all over again.





The next morning, Dan hardly said two words to his friends. They wouldn’t have class together until later in the afternoon, and his restless night meant his alarm had gone to snooze half a dozen times. Breakfast consisted of wolfing down Cheerios and orange juice too fast, and watching Abby put cold spoons on her eyelids. She insisted it would help her wake up and get rid of her sleepless puffiness.

No time to myth bust that. Instead, Dan ran, course list in hand, to his first class, thinking that History of Psychiatry would get him off to a good start. When he got there he saw Jordan’s roommate, Yi, and was glad for the friendly face in a room full of strangers. Ignoring the familiar voice that told him it’d be easier to sit alone, Dan went over to Yi and introduced himself.

“How’s it going?” he said to Yi as he sat down.

“Eh.” Yi shrugged. “Jordan won’t stop texting people when we’re supposed to be sleeping. I could hear his little clicky-clacky fingers going until like four in the morning.”

“He does love that phone.”

“Otherwise? I’m glad to have the chance to do something outside of playing the damn cello. I love music and all, but I’m open to another calling. Maybe I’ll find it in this class. If nothing else, I’ll learn something new, right? That, and we might get to hear some cool shit about our loony bin of a dorm.”

Professor Reyes arrived promptly and began handing out the syllabi. She was dressed in all black again, this time with a quartz necklace. Her appearance reminded Dan slightly of the fortune-tellers from late-night infomercials.