Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1)(44)

Earlier that day, I’d learned that Ashley carried a boy in her precious little baby bump. Ashley had lain on the table, staring at the black-and-white swishing screen, and said, “Oh, Echo. You’ll have a brother again.” Again. Like I lost a puppy and she cooked me up another. I wasn’t interested in a replacement.

Noah had come over to my house that afternoon and rocked my world with Isaiah’s car knowledge. He didn’t have to bring Isaiah, or share memories of his family. Once again, he showed me what an incredibly awesome guy he really was and what did I do? I threw it in his face that he slept with every girl who offered herself up to him. I told him he didn’t know how to love because he couldn’t tell me what I wanted so badly to hear from him. That he wanted more than my body—that he wanted me.

“Yes. I’m ready for the dance,” I told Mrs. Collins, returning to reality.

“Fantastic. Ah, there it is.” She flipped open my file and rewarded herself with a sip of her new addiction, Diet Coke. “I’d like to discuss your mother today.”

“What?” No one discussed my mother.

“Your mom. I’d like to discuss your mom. Actually, there’s an exercise I’d like to try with you. Can you describe her in five words or less?”

Bipolar. Beautiful. Erratic. Talented. Unreliable. I chose the safe answer. “She loved Greek mythology.”

Mrs. Collins sat back in her seat, revealing jeans and a blue button-down shirt. “I think of chocolate chip cookies when I think of my mom.”

“I’m pretty sure you know my mom isn’t the cookie-baking type.” Or the mom type.

She chuckled. I didn’t mean it to be funny. “Did she teach you the myths?”

“Yes, but she focused on the constellations.”

“You’re smiling. I don’t see you do that in my office very often.”

My mom. My crazy, crazy mother. “When she was on, my mother was on. You know?”

“No. Explain.”

My foot began to rock. “She … um … I don’t know.”

“What do you mean by your mom being on?”

My mouth dried out as if I hadn’t drunk in days. I really hated talking about her. “I realize now that my favorite moments with my mom were her manic episodes. It kind of stinks because now the only good memories I have are tainted. The way she smiled at me made me feel so important. She painted the constellations on my ceiling with glow-in-the-dark paint. We’d lie in bed and she’d tell me the stories over and over again. Some nights she’d shake me to keep me awake.”

Mrs. Collins tapped her pen against her chin. “Constellations, huh? Think you could still pick them out?”

I shrugged, shifting in my seat. My foot clicked repeatedly against the floor. What temperature did she have the room set at? Ninety? “I guess. I haven’t looked at the stars in a while.”

“Why not?” Mrs. Collins’s demeanor changed from friendly Labrador to pure business.

Sweat crept along the back of my neck. I twisted my hair in a bun and held it up. “Um … I don’t know. Cloudy? I don’t go out at night very often?”

“Really?” she asked dryly.

Anger flashed in my bloodstream. I wished lasers would shoot out of my eyes. “I lost interest, I guess.”

“I want to show you some pictures that may trigger a memory. As long as that’s okay with you, Echo?”

Um … not really, but how could I say no? I nodded.

“Your art teacher gave me these smaller paintings you did your sophomore year. I could be wrong, but I believe they’re constellations.”

Mrs. Collins held up the first one. A first-grader could name it. “The little dipper, but in Greek mythology it would be Ursa Minor.”

The next painting was familiar to me, but maybe not to others. “Aquarius.”

The third one stumped me for one second. My mind wavered in that gray hazy area I detested. I snatched out the answer before the black hole could swallow it. Dizziness disoriented me, allowing me only to whisper, “Andromeda.”

My heart pounded and I let go of my hair to wipe the perspiration forming on my forehead. Nausea rolled in my stomach and up my throat. Good God, I was going to puke.

“Echo, breathe through your nose and try to lower your head.”

I barely heard Mrs. Collins over the ringing in my ears. The black hole grew, threatening to swallow me. I couldn’t let it. “No.” It couldn’t grow. The black hole was already too large and this had happened once before. That time I almost lost my mind.

“No to what, Echo?” Why did she sound so far away?

I squeezed my hands against my head, as if the motion could physically stop me from falling into that dark chasm. A bright light ripped through the blackness and for a brief few seconds I saw my mother. She lay next to me on the floor of her living room. Red curly hair falling from a gold clip. Her eyes wide—too wide. My heart raced faster. She reached toward me, whispering the words, “And Perseus saved Andromeda from her death. Aires was our Perseus. We’ll be with him soon.”

Raw fear—nerve-breaking, horror movie, chain-saw-carrying fear—pushed adrenaline through my body. “No!” I yelled, shoving my hands out to stop her from touching me.

“Echo! Open your eyes!” Mrs. Collins shouted, her warm breath hitting my face.