“ON THE PHONE WITH MY THERAPIST?”
She dives for the phone.
I snatch it first and shove it behind my back,
the international sign for:
I am guilty.
“No,” I lie. Like an amateur.
Celie stares at me, crossing her arms.
“You’re literally holdingmyphone.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” I try.A line that has never once saved anyone in the history of forever.
I turn my back and hiss into the phone:
“Good talk, Doc. Put it on Celie’s tab.”
Dr. Mitchell hums, cruelly amused.
“Good luck, Allison.”
Click.
I stare at the floor, as if it has answers.
Celie stares at me, waiting for them. “Thought you could slip into my trauma chair like it’s a drive-thru window.”
“Relax, I said your name once,” I mutter. “And it wasn’t even about me. I did it ‘cause I didn’t want to destroy the kid. Just tryna save a life, aight? I know I’m not a good person, but I’m not a monster, either.”This part’s true.
She cocks her head.
“Ohhh,this ‘bout that Six-Point-Five motherfucker, huh?”
I blink.
She blinks.
Then her lips rise into a smug smile.
I should run.
“Allison,” she says, sweet as poison?—
“You’re fallin’ for him.”
My lungs implode.
Great. She said it out loud.
Which means I’m gonna die.
“No,” I whisper. “Take it back.
“Take it backrightnow”
