"Hold still, child!" she demanded.

"No! Stop!" I cried louder.

The woman held my wrist down, pressed to the bed. She squeezed it tight. The pressure was so intense, and it felt like my st.i.tches were going to break. I was growing scared. Tears were falling out of my eyes.

"Stop fighting me," she growled. "If you hold still, I will get your blood without all of this difficulty. But if you keep moving, it's going to keep hurting some more. Do you want that?"

I shook my head with tears drenching my face. She felt the need to squeeze my wrist some more. I wondered if she was doing that on purpose. I held as still as I could. It took her four more agonizing sticks to get all of the blood she needed. If I felt the need to hurt myself at that moment, I wouldn't have to, for she was doing a fine job. She filled six tubes of blood. When she was finished, I sat up and felt light-headed. She laughed when I fell back and laid my head on my pillow.

"You shouldn't sit up right away," she tardily said. She began putting labels on the tubes that held my blood.

"I have to get your vitals this morning. Take your shirt off, and if you have a bra, take that off too," she said while not looking at me.

When I had my shirt off and she had put away the tubes, she pulled out a stethoscope and a blood pressure tester. While checking my blood pressure, she yanked on my bandaged wrists and pulled my arm to straighten my posture. She then shoved the thermometer into my mouth roughly, which almost made me choke. She laughed when I coughed. It occurred to me that I was not dealing with a nice nurse at all. She was brutal, rough, and seemingly careless.

I didn't hear Janine moving around. I looked over at her side of the room, and she was still asleep. I wondered where Ms. Mosley was. The nurse told me to put my shirt back on and gather my personal items. She said that she was going to a.s.sist me in getting cleaned up.

I wanted to tell her "no, thank you" because she didn't seem like the kind of nurse I wanted touching my private areas. She was not like the nurse at the other hospital at all. Hesitating, I got up out of the bed and grabbed my underwear and a menstrual pad. When she saw me grab the pad, the look on her face changed from simply mean to terrifyingly angry.

"Don't even tell me that you are on your period, child," she said.

I nodded, afraid of what she was going to do to me.

The nurse shook her head with a grimace on her face. She turned away from me, grabbed the tubes and her bag, and stormed out of the room. Confused, I went to the door. Anxiety washed over me, and I couldn't make myself go out the door. I looked down at my arm as it ached in pain. I could see the spots where she'd stuck me with the needle. My skin color turned black and blue. I grew afraid that she wouldn't come back. If she wasn't going to help me, then I had no way to clean up. She was the only nurse who was apparently going to help me. I didn't mean to make her leave.

I forced myself to walk out the door and try to catch her. I was hoping that I could at least get her to give me new bandages for my wrists. I walked out the double doors that separated the Girl's Unit from the main area, and stopped when I saw Ms. Mosley and the nurse talking.

Ms. Mosley was upset. "Why didn't you help her get a bath?"

The nurse responded, "I am not about to clean her while she is on her period, Karen. This is not even my area. I work with the adults, not pediatrics. I don't appreciate you leaving messages on my voicemail like the one you left last night, either. I didn't know that you all had a new female patient on the Adolescent Unit who needed her blood drawn. I came to draw blood for you because your unit's nurse has not been showing up for her shifts. If you have a problem, you need to talk to Dr. Pelchat because I have nothing to do with what goes on over here. Don't ever call me with that kind of business again!"

Ms. Mosley stayed silent as the nurse stormed off. Geoffrey had been watching from behind the counselor's desk. He asked her if she was all right, and she nodded.

I hurried back to my room feeling embarra.s.sed and dismayed. When I entered, Janine was coming out of the bathroom. She looked at me. Her hair looked soft and it flowed down her back. She smiled at me, flashing her cute pink dimple.

"What are you doing up so early?" Janine asked. She threw herself down on her bed and covered up with her treasured, pink blanket. She looked warm.

"The nurse came to take my blood," I confessed. I went back over to my bed, and covered myself with the thin, white blanket. It hardly did any good for me because I was still cold.

"Wasn't she supposed to be here yesterday?" Janine asked.

"Yes."

"I hate this place," she complained. "Wait. Didn't you say that the nurse is supposed to help you get cleaned up, too?"

I nodded.

"This place really sucks." Janine frowned at me. "I'm sorry," she said.

She tried to smile at me, but I couldn't smile back. I looked away from her. She must have drifted off into her own place. I turned back to her when I heard her giggle. She looked pretty when she smiled. Her eyes sparkled.

I looked down at my hands. I didn't want to see her face. I touched my face. It felt oily. I looked at my fingers. They were shiny. I touched my face again and felt my nose. There was a mild pain. I felt the spot where the pain grew stronger, a spot between my nose and my cheek, right on the crease of my nose, where it felt like a pimple was growing. I felt like crying. I looked up at Janine. She was lying down, and her eyes were closed. Her pink skin looked soft and clear.

Angrily I lay back down on the bed. I touched the pimple on my nose. I went from touching to digging. I dug the nail on my index finger into my skin and went as deep as I could into the pimple. Then I ripped as hard as I could. I felt the pressure of the pimple release as blood spilled down my nose. I could taste it on my lips.

"Hold still, Lexus," I fussed as squeezed the small, barely noticeable pimple on her chin.

Lexus tried to lie as still as she could on her back as I sat on top of her and hovered over her to try to kill the evil pimple.

"Oh, but it hurts," she whined.

"Then squeeze my hips or scratch my back. Just hold still," I told her.

Lexus wrapped her arms around my back and, as I squeezed her pimple, she dug her nails into my back. The pain was amazing. I felt too much adrenaline go to my head. I couldn't stop squeezing. I had to make the puss come out. One long, hard squeeze and Lexus dug her nails into my back even harder.

The puss shot out. She screamed, and I screamed. Well, my scream was more like a moan, as she had run her nails down my back. With the way things looked, if one of our parents had walked in, they would have gotten the wrong idea.

"Well, that was fun," I said jokingly, as I sat on top of her.

She looked beautiful, lying on her back. She looked up at me and laughed. "Get off of me," she giggled.

I got off her and grabbed a Kleenex from a tissue box. When I gave her the tissue, she wiped her chin. She looked at the b.l.o.o.d.y paper.

"Eww...this is nasty," she said. "I hate it when I get pimples."

"I couldn't even see it. It was so small," I said.

I looked into the mirror as I spoke to her. I frowned. I had oily skin with too many dark spots. I was ugly. I turned away from the mirror angrily. Lexus looked at me, and put a hand on my shoulder. I shoved her away from me. She sighed. She silently forgave me for shoving her, and tried to smile.

"You look so cute in your new outfit. I think we did a good job picking our new outfits for the picnic. Don't you think?"

She wanted me to respond. I looked at her mini-skirt and corset tank top. She was wearing nail polish and make-up. Then I looked at my denim jeans and long-sleeved sweater I wore to cover up my cuts. I didn't want to respond.

Still trying to be cheerful, she grabbed some lipstick. "Come on, just this once. Let me put some lipstick on you."

I stared at the lipstick, almost afraid. Lexus laughed and shoved me into a chair next to the dresser.

"Look, you will like this color," she said as she hovered over me and began to put the lipstick on my lips. Then she pulled out her blush. I tried to get up, but she pushed me back down.

"No," she said. "You made me sit still while I let you torture me, and now it's your turn." After the blush came the eye shadow. I sat still without a fight until she went for the liquid eyeliner. "Now, you will have to trust me," she warned.

I stayed quiet and stared at her. She laughed. "Don't worry. It's not like you're going to die."

"Yes, I am," I said.

"Shut up, no you won't. Now, look up at the ceiling." She ran that liner pen on the line of my bottom lashes, then along the top, without poking my eyes out, as I feared she would. "You don't need mascara," she complimented. "You've got nice, long eyelashes like your Mom."

I smiled at her.

She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. She c.o.c.ked her head as she studied her work of art. "You look nice," she finally said. "Look for yourself." She pulled me up out of the chair.

"No," I told her. "Lexus, I don't really want to look at myself in the mirror."

"Shut up," she said. "Look."

I stood in front of the mirror. I felt emotionless. I didn't look different. I just had color.

"What's the difference?" I asked her.

"What's the difference?" she repeated. "It's color!" She laughed at me. "Besides, I did a really good job on you. I could be your personal make-up artist."

"What would I need one of those for?"

"You know, when you grow up and you become a famous poet and publish books, you'll need someone to make you look good for TV talk shows and book signings."

I was shocked. I said, "You really think I'll get my poems published?"

She shoved me playfully. "You have enough of them! Why not?"

I smiled at her, overjoyed that she believed in me.

"So is it good, even though it's different?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know if it's good-different or just me-looking-likeme-different."

"It had better be good-different because I did a really good job," she proclaimed. Then suddenly, "Oh, my goodness!"

"What?" I asked.

"I have a great idea! Come on!"

She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room. I had no idea where she was taking me until I saw our parents and John's parents on the back porch, watching the food barbeque. John and his little brother were with Nick. The three of them were sitting on a blanket in the gra.s.s. The parents looked at me. Mom was drinking a beer, and as soon as she saw me, she started choking.

I froze.

John's mom asked, "Did you do that yourself?"

I felt like a two-year-old who had just used the potty all by herself for the first time.

"No," Lexus said. "I did her make-up."

"That looks lovely, honey," her dad praised her.

Lexus giggled happily.

Jack looked at me without expression. He sat his beer down on the table and walked away. I watched him go into the house. Mom looked like she wanted to follow him. I tried to smile.

"You should let Lexus do your make-up more often," her mother said.

"Okay, thanks," I said.

I quickly left them on the porch, but Lexus went after me. I didn't see Jack when I went back into the house. I went back to the bedroom.

Lexus closed the door. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes," I lied. I smiled at her to make her believe me.

"Yay! We are so cute," she said.

I rolled my eyes playfully. She was so cute. We wrapped our arms around each other and hugged.

"You're my best friend," I said.

Knock. Knock.

I woke up suddenly at the sound of the knocks on the door. Janine opened her eyes. Ms. Mosley entered the room.

"Hey, it's not time to get up yet," Janine whined to Ms. Mosley. "It's Sat.u.r.day."

Ms. Mosley ignored her and stood near me while I sat up in bed. Janine saw that Ms. Mosley had not come for her, so she turned over and went back to sleep. Ms. Mosley looked down at me.

"Do you want me to help you get cleaned up now, or do you need to sleep a little longer?" she asked kindly.

"Okay," I said as I hurried up and got out of the bed. "We can do it now, please."

She nodded and headed towards the bathroom. Relieved, I grabbed my towel and personal items and followed Ms. Mosley to the bathroom. As I got undressed, Ms. Mosley prepared the shower. I felt nervous, like I had in the other hospital the first time the nurse had helped me get clean. Ms. Mosley could tell that I was nervous. She gently took my hand and led me to the shower. She had me stick my foot in the shower to test the water. I had to make sure it wasn't too hot or too cold. It was lukewarm, just right.

Ms. Mosley didn't remove the bandages before she cleaned me. I had to hold my arms out of the shower so that they wouldn't get wet. She didn't seem to be bothered by my menstrual flow. She seemed like she was trying to be careful and professional. She washed my hair and everywhere that was most necessary, all the while humming a song that I had heard once when I was child. It was comforting and it made me feel calm. When she finished, I could smell myself. But it wasn't like when I smelled myself before. This time I could smell the sweet apple shampoo and the Ivory soap. At that moment, those were the best scents that I had ever smelled in my entire life.

Ms. Mosley wrapped a towel around me. I stepped out of the shower. She looked at me. "Kristen, I have to remove your bandages now, okay?"

I nodded.

She took my arm into her hands. She started to unwrap the bandages and then stopped. "What happened to your arm?"

"The nurse," I said. "She was having a hard time taking my blood this morning." I looked at the damage. My arm had been badly bruised.

Ms. Mosley frowned. She didn't say anything in response, but just continued unwrapping the bandages from my wrists. I looked away. I couldn't look at what I had done to myself. Instead, I looked at the pale paint that was chipping off the walls. When the bandages were completely off, I felt the air hit my wrists. They felt cold. I tried to keep my focus on the chipped paint. That bathroom could have used a new paint job. There was suddenly a strange smell. I scrunched up my face. I couldn't move my hands to cover my nose, because Ms. Mosley was putting something on my wrists. It felt like water, but it couldn't have been, because it smelled too bad and it stung when it touched my skin.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It smells like that because it is a liquid ointment for your st.i.tches. It is supposed to help them heal faster. It also keeps the wounds from infection."

I had to force myself not to look down. I watched her grab new bandages from her bag. The she started wrapping my wrists back up.

"There you go," she said with a sigh. "You are all done. Go ahead and get dressed. Do you need help?"

I shook my head as I walked back into the bedroom. Ms. Mosley walked to the door to exit the room. Before she left, she said, "I will be back at eight-thirty to get you and Janine up."

I went over to my side of the room and started getting dressed. I didn't see that Janine was awake.