Chapter Four

Damien's hand waved over the sensor that opened the hospital doors at the end of the hall. "Thank you," Ken said, softly but politely from his wheelchair at Damien's side. He looked up briefly and Damien answered him with a nod of his head. I could tell that Ken was a proud boy. Being in that chair clearly was sucking the life right out of him. His shoulders were wider than any I'd seen on a kid our age and his thighs stretched out the gym shorts that were pulled up over the sleek cast on his leg.

Dr. Crimm slipped her jacket off again and I watched her hang it over her arm like she'd done the last few times. All the doctors I'd ever come in contact with wore their white coats as if they were a requirement for the position. They acted as if we wouldn't believe anything they said unless they were wearing them and then once they were on, we shouldn't ever question a thing coming out of their mouths. I heard somewhere that studies have shown we humans tend to believe more of the things we hear when they come from someone wearing a medical coat, even when we know nothing about that person's training, so it was very interesting to me that she took hers off as quickly as possible.

The chair fascinated me; I'd only ever seen them but never rode in one myself. Normally I would have slowed down, but Dr. Crimm lead us down the last nearly-empty hallway to the back exit of the hospital at a brisk pace. Damien looked over at me with a look that said, What the fuck?I shrugged, not quite sure why we were in such a hurry.

It was dark outside, but the black SUV sat beneath the bright glow of the hospital lights. Just beyond the orb, nothing could be seen. When we'd driven up to the place, it had been through miles and miles of darkness, our headlight beams showing row after row of growing crops. I always imagined Texas as farms and green land, but at night there was something lonely and eerie about the place that made my stomach jittery. The hospital was in what I imagined was the main town square and there were signs I could read now as we stopped at the blinking red light smack in the middle. I'd been tucked into the back seat on the way in, but now from the middle row I could see the hand-drawn posters cheering on the high school football team. The boy who wore the number six jersey seemed to be a local legend. His jersey was flashing on the TV screen in the small shop window and also at the tiny café. I squinted my eyes to see the image of him, arm back, ready to throw the football, painted on the wall outside a shop that was advertising a sale on washing machines this week only. Blonde curls spilled from beneath the helmet as big blue eyes stared down his opponent. Those blue eyes looked determined and now they were familiar.

"You're number six." I said quietly. I turned my head to look at our latest group member and watched as his jaw ticked from the seat behind me. His casted leg was propped up straight across the folded-down seat in front of him, his size alone intimidating but his chiseled features threatening in their own way. Only the closer I looked, the more I could see he was broken. If there was a warrior in him, he was cowering in the corner somewhere.

Ken nodded his head once and then cleared his throat. "I was."

Damien leaned forward and began to study all the images plastered across the small town. The story painted all over was incredible. The idolization, the expectations, and the pressure. It was everywhere. I felt it myself as we pulled out of that town. I felt the way it had started to wrap around my insides, gripping my organs and strangling them until I wanted to flee from that place. Ken just sat there, speechless, his head hung in defeat and disgrace as we drove away. Suddenly those cornfields and dark open roads didn't feel so vast.

We crossed over a small bridge I hadn't paid much attention to on the way in, but this time I saw something that caught my eye. A single candle was burning at its entrance and as our headlights lit up the railing guiding the cars along the road above the creek, I could see a makeshift vigil of sorts. Only the person who was being remembered wasn't dead. I knew that because he was sitting beside me. Deflating balloons spun depressingly in the warm night air over signs begging Number Six to get well soon. Signed letters and dirty teddy bears dressed in football jerseys were tacked to the old post near the bridge. Every item might as well have been sitting on my chest for the weight I felt there when I saw it. Every tiny dying flower, every poster in a child's writing, every football and pompom I saw weighed me down, like lead on my lungs.

I didn't know Ken, but I knew a tiny bit about his struggle. I knew the pressure of being on a team and being out in front of your peers. I knew what it was like to have people looking at you with the expectation that you were perfect, that you had to be that way all the time. I knew what it was like to fall from that—or dive, in my case, to want to get away from it so badly you'd do anything. I didn't know Ken, but in that moment I felt him. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out. It was brief, but it took everything I had inside. He wouldn't know that it had been six months since I'd purposely touched someone, but I knew and it meant something to me. My hand connected to the top of his on the seat beside him for a fleeting second and then I drew it back. His eyes looked to mine and I hope he saw in them that I understood. Whatever decision he had made that had lead him to be on that bridge and then in that car with me I'd never judge him for. I was all too aware that it could just as easily have been me.

It was quiet as we all got out at the small airport. I expected Ken to want to do everything for himself like he had at the hospital, but he didn't. He had shrunken back in on himself and sat in silence in the car as Dr. Crimm took out the wheelchair and opened it for him. Ken waited for all of us to climb into the plane before he dragged himself out of the car and into the chair. I watched him out the windows and he never even looked up. I think at that moment if he could have disappeared entirely he would have. I guess we all would have.

Damien turned down the medication Dr. Crimm offered him, but Shima gladly took it. My sadness had crept back in, blanketing my thoughts like a thick mud. I couldn't look at Ken or my heart would break, and I certainly didn't want to close my eyes and think about my own life for very long. I struggled to keep my eyes open until I could no longer win the battle. After the night I'd had so far, my nightmares were playing before the plane ever left the ground.

***

Tall green trees flew past the window of the SUV as we made our way down the highway to our next stop. Our plane had landed at another minor airport just as the sun was coming up. I'd opened my eyes when we were descending and slide up the small covering of the window. Light was already creeping into the aircraft from a few rows up, where Damien watched solemnly from his seat. I wondered if he had slept at all.

According to the road signs we were in North Carolina, near some sort of military base, and I was beginning to think it was our destination. The scenery was so different from any of the other places I'd been and I couldn't help but feel a little excited about how easy it would be to disappear here. I could just walk out and into the thick of the woods and never come back. In LA that wasn't possible, but here, here I could just vanish. I followed a drop of water with my finger as it raced down the window and imagined sitting out there in the rain. How far into those woods would I have to go before I couldn't find my way back? I reveled at how dense the area had looked from above, the small space protected from humans under laws fought and won by my grandmother's generation.

We stopped in a parking lot across from a Marine Corps base and I sat up a little straighter in my seat. Ken stared past me out the window and I could see that Damien was watching the guards, too, from his position in front of me. Shima never looked up. She had been busying herself running her fingertips across the rippled flesh of her wrists. I let my eyes dip to them for a brief minute as I found myself curious about what it must have been like for her in the moments before she made the decision to cut herself so deeply. The sharp sound of a door being opened drew my attention.

"We're here." Dr. Crimm spoke abruptly into her phone as she stood just outside the SUV. It was still early and a thick morning fog was trying to hide the main gates, but we could still see the men in uniform standing outside. None of them were on a phone, though, so her connection must be somewhere inside. Lights became visible just beyond the gate and then the Marine standing at the exit saluted as a vehicle pulled out of the gates and made its way across the street to our lot.

We all leaned a little closer as a tall boy emerged from the back seat. His head was shaved close and his eyes were sunken in, giving him a hard look. His eyes moved up to the window of our vehicle, but I doubted he could see through the dark tint. As he took a step away from the door his hands and the cuffs that contained them came into sight.

"A criminal?" Ken asked, lifting himself up higher to see more clearly as the Marine unlocked the cuffs and gave the boy a little push toward Dr. Crimm. She didn't reach out to take him or put him in her own restraints. I watched as he rubbed his wrists, my thoughts following the motion around and around.

I shouldn't trust him if he needed to be cuffed. I shouldn't trust him if he is unsafe. I shouldn't trust anyone. I should trust myself. I can't be trusted.

My heart started beating quickly, my mouth growing moist with saliva as my stomach tossed, warning of the vomit that might be coming. The panic was back and I tried to release my seat belt but fumbled until I was practically clawing at it in an attempt to escape. Ken calmly reached over and released it and I ripped the belt from across my chest and flung myself over his bad leg and out the door of the SUV. The ground was wet beneath my palms and I felt the bite of the rocky surface against the sensitive skin. I didn't care as I sucked in breath after breath, squeezing my eyes shut and swallowing down the heavy feel of my stomach rushing up to my throat. That dampness soaked through my pants to the skin of my knees and I knew the kids were probably watching as I stayed on all fours in the parking lot. It was humiliating, but at the time all I could think about was getting air into my lungs.

Dr. Crimm knelt in front of me. Her soothing voice was soft as she instructed me to breathe and relax. She gave me a count of ten and when I was still scattered and lost she started over without any reprimand or harsh negativity. "It's a base precaution. Not my rule, theirs," she assured me, careful not to touch me until I had stopped shaking. It took longer than before and I hated that it must have been twenty minutes that I kept us stranded in that parking lot as I trembled and whimpered, rocking on my hands and knees until I could finally convince myself my heart wasn't going to explode inside my chest. When I was able to look up at her she offered her hand and helped me to my feet. I wiped my dirty hands on my pants and looked back at the SUV. If they had been watching, the kids inside had looked away in time for me not to notice their stares.

The new boy, however, had watched the whole thing. His expression was almost wild, as if he had wanted to reach for me but had been stopped. His hands, now free, were clenched at his sides and his smooth jaw was ticking with tension as he watched me pick up the last few pieces and get myself back together. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," I answered as I brushed the dirt off my pants and turned to climb back into the SUV. I was embarrassed and didn't want to have to explain that

Shima, Ken and Damien said nothing as I got back into my seat. Surprisingly, I didn't feel judged by them. We were all broken, living in a glass house already plagued with cracking panes, knowing better than to throw stones. I buckled my seat belt with a shaky hand and then turned my attention out the window to the guard, and together we all pretended like I hadn't just lost my mind. In that moment there was no other company I'd rather be in than that group of damaged, misfit kids.