I Wish You All the Best(79)

“Can you talk to me, Ben?” He reaches for my hand, but I bury it under the sheets. “Or at least talk to Hannah?”

“Not right now.” I’m not angry with her, except that I am. I know it wasn’t really her fault, that Mom and Dad lied, just like they always did. Trying to make themselves the good guys. But it still hurt. “Just leave me alone.”

“Do you think you want to try and go to school tomorrow? Hannah can pick you up for the appointment.”

Nothing. My answer would be no. I can’t face everyone after all of this. I just can’t. I know I need to, and I know the actual probability of anyone giving a shit about what happened at a student art show over a week ago is slim. But I can’t get over the feeling.



Despite everything, I force myself to go back. It’s the end of the year, and while I’d love nothing more than to wallow in my own misery for the next month, the idea of repeating a year is not something I find appealing.

Nathan doesn’t try to talk to me in Chemistry. Maybe he knows I’m not in the mood. When the bell for lunch rings, I hang back for a few seconds.

“Hannah’s waiting for you in the office, Ben.” Thomas waits for me to grab my bag. He even follows me the entire way to the office. No worries, Thomas, I don’t feel like running anywhere. Or I don’t have the energy, at least. I’d really rather do nothing but go home and crawl back under the sheets until I have to repeat all of this again tomorrow.

“You feeling okay?” Hannah asks when we’re in the car.

“Yeah,” I mutter.

“I want you to tell her about the show, okay?”

I really don’t want to talk about it again, but I think I should. Or I know I should. My guess is that Hannah’s already mentioned something to her. I hope she has. Maybe then I won’t have to.

“Ben?” The way she says my name makes it feel like I’m a thousand miles away. I just stare out the window as we drive past the bright walls of North Wake. She doesn’t try to strike up a conversation again. I’m sure she knows it’s pointless. It takes every bit of effort I have left to crawl out of the car and make my way to the elevator. Hannah goes to her usual spot in the corner of the room.

“Good morning, Ben.” Dr. Taylor’s already holding the door open for me. “Or should I say good afternoon?” She chuckles and glances at the clock on the wall. “My, where does the time go?”

I look back at Hannah. She gives me one of those half smiles that I think is supposed to mean she’s trying to be supportive. “Can Hannah come in?”

They both look sort of surprised, but I just really don’t want it to be me and Dr. Taylor.

Dr. Taylor just nods. “Of course. Hannah?”

“You sure, sib?” Hannah asks, grabbing her bag.

I nod and walk into the office, taking my spot on the ugly yellow couch. Hannah sits at the other end.

“So, how’re you doing, Ben?”

I shrug and listen to her write something down.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve met. Has anything happened?” She asks it in a way that I can tell she’s referring to the meeting with Mom and Dad. I just shrug again. Apparently, it’s all I’m good for at the moment. I can feel the frustration in the way Dr. Taylor sighs, and I want to apologize.

“Can I speak?” Hannah raises her hand and looks at me, like she needs my approval or something.

“Of course,” Dr. Taylor answers for me.

“It’s been over a week and they’ve just been …” Hannah looks at me. “Like this, like …” She trails off like she’s searching for the right word.

Has it really been over a week? I try to lay the time line out in my head. Days of lying in bed, not showering or eating or bothering to talk to anyone.

It couldn’t really have been a week … could it?

“Unresponsive?”

“They haven’t been doing anything. No talking, barely eating. I checked their journal and I don’t think they’ve been taking their medication either.”

Checking my journal? I want to tell myself that means Hannah cares, but all I’m hearing is that she’s been going behind my back, looking into things that aren’t her business.

“What happened to cause this?” Dr. Taylor asks me. But Hannah does before I have a chance to.

“Our parents,” she says. “They came to Ben’s art show.”

“Oh. You met with them, didn’t you?” Dr. Taylor writes something down.

“You knew about this?” Hannah asks.

“I did,” Dr. Taylor says quietly. “Ben and I discussed it at our last meeting.”

Hannah opens her mouth, but then she just huffs and sinks back into the couch. “I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea.”

“I never suggested Ben meet with them, I simply gave my opinion.”

“Yes, but—”

“Hannah.” Dr. Taylor holds up a finger. “I let Ben make their own decision. Now please.” Wow. I stare at Dr. Taylor, a little dumbfounded. And if I’m being honest, I’m a little jealous of the way she shut Hannah down. “Ben, would you mind starting from the beginning, so Hannah knows the full story?”

“It started with a message.” I glance toward Hannah. “Mom sent it a few months back, but I didn’t see it until recently.” Then I turn back to Dr. Taylor. “We met and they … they wanted me to go home with them, claimed they’d learned and wanted to try.”