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I switch position, look my dad in the eyes. “Daddy, please. Don’t let them take me. Please.”
My dad’s mouth twitches, and he pats my shoulder tenderly.“Sure, kiddo. We can do this together.” Then he starts yelling. “You don’t get to make all the decisions here, Diana. I have a say, too.”
“They only need one signature,” my mom says. “And she’s on my insurance. And I don’t think I can ever trust you to take care of her again.”
And then they are off.
Screaming about everything.
Ricci, Grandma’s house, Grandma, me, Vanessa, everything, everything, everything, shutting me out again. I shrink back against the couch, sitting on the floor, covering my ears under my hood, closing my eyes, and it’s just like it used to be when we all lived together. Them angry and shouting or them quiet and furious; silent dinners, Ricci overacting to get someone to react, them yelling at each other to calm her down and me just invisible, spaghetti noodles curled on my tongue, going nowhere, sinking inside myself from all the noise and unhappiness.
And then, sitting there on the floor of the room, feeling Tracy’s eyes on me while my parents fight, all I can see in my mind’s eye is me in that video, moving toward Lemon’s camera at the party, my fingers pulling my bra down.
If I had a million sweaters and ten thousand blankets, I would bury myself in them right now because I don’t think I will ever feel not naked again. I start rocking back and forth, hitting my back against the couch. I can’t take this. I cannot take this. I can’t breathe.
Tracy has to raise her voice and clap her hands to get my parents to stop, and the instant the room falls silent, I uncover my ears and meet her eyes.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go. Just get me the hell away from them.”
—
They don’t let you say goodbye.
One minute I’m on the floor of the intervention room and the next I’m in a wheelchair being pushed down to the lobby of the hospital by the strong nurse, with Tracy holding the suitcase. The nurse helps me out of the chair and says a matter-of-fact “Good luck to you” before taking the chair and walking away. Like she does this every day. I guess maybe she does. I’m just another dumb kid to her.
I just stand there as Tracy walks toward the lobby doors. She looks back.
“Come on,” she says. “It’s time to go.”
I look around. “But my parents. Where are they? Don’t I get to say goodbye?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “That causes an extra level of tension that we don’t advocate.”
She waits.
I stare back at her, my stomach curdling a little.
She motions to two guys I didn’t notice before, sitting on chairs in the lobby. They get up and head toward us.
Toward me.
“Are we going to have a problem?” Tracy asks.
A nervous laugh trickles out of my throat. It’s like I’m being kidnapped or something. Pinpricks of fear race through me. Who is this person, and what have my parents signed me up for, exactly, that would require two burly guys, one of whom has a disturbingly precise crew cut, to be staring down at me like this?
“Are you like literally going to use force if I don’t go?” My voice is shaky.
The crew cut guy shrugs. “Maybe. If that’s what it takes.”
There’s an awkward silence. I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Bella,” Tracy says finally, gently. “It’s time to go.”
One after the other, slowly, I lift my feet and walk toward her.
Because what choice do I have?
Three
