"I did? How?"

"When I left you and your mother alone, you took the time to open up to her, which is what I was hoping you would do," he admitted.

I was dismayed. "Is that why you asked if my mother knew why I hurt myself?"

He sighed. "Yes. I wanted to open the communication up between you and your mother. You did very well, Kristen. I know it was hard, but you were very brave throughout the entire time."

"I don't feel very brave."

"I know, but you are. You'll see."

I felt a pain go through my chest. "It helped, knowing that you were near the whole time. Even though it hurt to talk that much about what had happened, I feel like it helped. You were the first person I ever got a chance to talk to about it. It was hard, and I couldn't stop crying, but if you and Mom hadn't pushed, I may have never had a chance to talk to anyone."

That much honesty hurt me inside. It was hard to let out, but Dr. Pelchat didn't seem to mind.

Dr. Pelchat replied, "That's what we need to do. We need you to open up more and talk about it."

I nodded at him. Still nervous and feeling strange, I said, "It hurts, but I'm going to try."

"Good. So, Kristen, did you get a chance to look at the book I loaned you?"

I thought back to the day he'd told me about Borderline Personality Disorder. I was too afraid. I did want to know about it. But...

"No," I admitted, "not yet."

"I recommend that you do. When you have time to yourself, you should read it."

"I haven't even taken the test yet," I argued. My heart began to beat fast. "How do we even know if this is my diagnosis?" I tried to smile so that I wouldn't seem too scared.

Dr. Pelchat sighed. He shook his head. "We don't know for sure. Not yet. But I have seen a lot of warning signs for disorders dealing with psychosis. You, Kristen, have major signs of Borderline Personality Disorder."

"What exactly am I doing?"

Almost yelling, I was giving away how scared I was. I couldn't have this disorder. Not if I was supposed to be a good example for Nicky and Alison.

"Read the book, Kristen. Please." He was sincere, and his eyes were very gentle.

I nodded, and promised to read the book. I had to read the book because I wanted to know what it was that I was doing that made me such an obvious candidate for this Borderline Personality Disorder. I needed to know so that I could fix it and not cause any more problems for my family.

"How are you sleeping at night?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I get to sleep, and I wake up sometimes. I guess it's okay."

"Do you feel different since we stopped the medication?"

"I feel..." I didn't know how to answer these questions. Everything was mixed up, and I felt confused. I should have known how I was sleeping. I should have known if I felt different without the medicine. I just shook my head. I started to feel hopeless.

Dr. Pelchat looked up from my chart towards me. He stopped writing and put my chart on top of his desk.

"I know how hard this is for you," he said. "You know, I had a pretty weird day yesterday. After your mother left, I went into the lunchroom to grab a bite to eat with Geoffrey. Well, he told me something that just completely blew my mind."

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He said that he wanted to be a doctor, just like me. He wanted to go to medical school and really go all the way. He told me that he admired me, and that he looked up to me, like I was his father or something."

Dr. Pelchat seemed amused and relaxed. He was smiling and happy.

I felt calm, and I smiled back at him. "He really does look up to you, Dr. Pelchat. He told me that one day when we were talking."

"Really?" He seemed surprised. "I wouldn't have known it if he hadn't said it."

I looked around and realized the sudden change of mood. The sun was shining through the blinds that hung over the wide, gla.s.s windows. The room was warm, and the tension lifted.

"I like this," I admitted.

"What?" Dr. Pelchat asked.

"I like us having a conversation, instead of you asking me a million questions. It feels normal," I said.

"What's normal?" Dr. Pelchat asked.

I thought about that question before answering. I couldn't come up with a single response that made sense.

"I don't know," I said with a giggle.

"Exactly. That's why I don't like normal," Dr. Pelchat responded. "There's no explanation for it."

I laughed. "Well, that's obvious, Dr. Pelchat. Look at where you work."

He looked around as though shocked. And he put his hand to his chest, like I had offended him.

"What do you mean, Kristen? There is absolutely nothing wrong with anyone here. We are all normal in here. "

We both laughed. I hadn't laughed that hard in a while. When that moment between us had pa.s.sed, Dr. Pelchat kept a calming smile on his face.

"Let's try something, Kristen. Let's try to have a 'normal' conversation."

"What's a normal conversation?"

"We will talk to each other. I ask a question, and you answer, and then you'll ask me a question, and I'll answer. We will just talk. What do you think?"

I wasn't sure how I felt about it. It seemed different from my other sessions with him and from ones I'd had with Dr. Cuvo. I nodded at him.

"Why do you do what you do?" I asked first.

"Do you mean, why am I a psychiatrist?"

"Yes."

"For the money," he said.

Shocked, and in partial disbelief, I laughed.

"What's so funny?" He looked so serious.

"Aren't you supposed to say something like you had always wanted to help people since you were a child, or since you went through this when you were younger, you wanted to help people who are going through this, too? It just doesn't seem..."

"It doesn't seem like a 'normal' thing for a doctor to say, does it?" Dr. Pelchat asked.

"No," I said. "It doesn't."

His smile appeared again. "I do want to help. That's why I'm here," he laughed.

"But the money isn't bad, either."

We laughed together.

"Where are you from?" Dr. Pelchat asked.

"I was born in California," I told him. I suddenly started to miss California and our little apartment. I started to miss microwave-cooked hot dogs and cold cuts sandwiches.

"How did you get here?"

"My mom decided to get married, and Jack moved us here. Now we're stuck in Atlanta." Realizing that he had asked me two questions, and afraid that he was going to ask me more questions that would lead to something, I caught him before he could ask another question. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from here," he said. "I was born and raised here. I went to college in New York, and I worked at Bellevue for about ten years. Then I moved back here some years ago."

"Why did you come back?" I asked.

"I came back to take care of my mother," he told me. "I started working here at Bent Creek under Dr. Bent, who I've known since we were teenagers. She took a chance on a young kid like me." He laughed at himself. "I can appreciate being here so much more than when I was working in New York. I'm home. I am pa.s.sionate about our work here. Besides, I used to work with Alzheimer's patients. Trust me, you kids are so much easier."

He made a face that was supposed to be funny.

I wanted to laugh, but it made me uncomfortable. Was it okay to laugh about that?

His large hands moved across the desk, making me nervous. "Your mother said that you will be graduating high school soon."

"Right," I said with a sigh.

"Do you have any plans for what you would like to do after graduation?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I like to write. I don't know. I'm not that good. I just write what I feel. I am pa.s.sionate about writing. It's the only thing I can't stop doing, no matter how bad I am at it."

"Then don't stop," he said.

I saw in his eyes that he really meant it. Perhaps he was feeling something at that moment. Maybe it was for Rocky. I didn't know what to say next. Talking about the future made me feel sick inside. What could I ever do? What was I useful for? Dr. Pelchat was a good doctor. I'd just talked to him, we had a normal conversation, and he hadn't even yelled or been frustrated. Not once.

Dr. Pelchat reached for my chart and grabbed a pen.

"My father," I said. "He's still in California."

Dr. Pelchat looked up from my chart. "Does he know that you are here?"

"No," I said. "Not unless my mother told him."

"What do you think he'd do if he knew that you were in the hospital?"

"That's two questions in a row, Dr. Pelchat. I thought we were having a conversation." I called him out on it that time.

Dr. Pelchat began writing again. Without looking at me, he said, "This is a conversation, Kristen. This is not a question game. We are adults."

I didn't reply. I was turning eighteen in less than a month. Was I an adult? Was I ready to be an adult? I didn't know if I was, or even if I wanted to be an adult. Mom certainly wanted me to grow up. I had to grow up soon. I knew that. I looked away from Dr. Pelchat. He was probably already writing something that would set me back from getting out of Bent Creek. The sad and pathetic feeling crept back inside of me.

"I'm nervous about the test," I admitted to Dr. Pelchat. "What if I...what if I have Borderline Personality Disorder?"

I looked down at my bandaged wrists and wished I hadn't admitted that I was afraid.

"There is no need to be nervous," Dr. Pelchat a.s.sured me. "All you have to do is be honest. The results depend on how open and honest you are about things that are going on with you. That's all. There are no tricks in this test. The test is not designed to make you look good or bad. It's just a test to help us to know how we can help you. That's the only way you're going to get the help you need and get better."

I wished it were that easy.

CHAPTER 36.

Daniel sat with our group at the lunch table, silent but with a smile on his face. He was being very mysterious, the way he was smiling and staring off into s.p.a.ce. I could only a.s.sume that his family session had gone well that day. He didn't volunteer any information.

Tai spoke up. "What's with you?"

Daniel shrugged. "Where's Janine?" he asked, to change the subject.

Janine wasn't at lunch with us. In fact, after breakfast and our morning Group, no one had seen her.

"Maybe she's asleep in the bedroom," I said.

"Maybe," Daniel agreed.

He seemed worried about her. His smile disappeared. Daniel took a bite of his food. When he chewed, his cheeks squinched, and he looked like a chipmunk. I couldn't help but smile at him. When he looked up at me and saw me smiling at him, I wanted to turn away, but I couldn't. He returned a smile. It was the best smile he had ever given me.

Suddenly, I began to see John's face. His smiles were kind. When we'd flown the kite together - the day we'd almost kissed - all of us had been nothing but smiles.

Then I started to remember his face when he'd told his father that he didn't want to come to our house anymore. After his uncle Jack was arrested, he hadn't felt right coming over to help us move into our new place. I had heard them talking outside while we had been moving our furniture out of the house. He hadn't smiled at me that day. When I'd gone to him to say h.e.l.lo, his eyes had been so confusing, and his tone cold. He hadn't looked me in the eyes when he'd spoken to me.

John's father had let him leave because John couldn't stand being there at the house. He'd said that he was disgusted. He'd never clarified exactly what it was that had disgusted him. Had it been my family? The situation? The house? Had it been Jack? Nick? Mom? Me? There was no doubt in my mind that things had changed between John and me. It hurt to think that he didn't look at my family and me the same anymore. I just wanted everything to be okay again.