The same goes for Grace—she’s seemed more cheerful lately, but I’m still anxious about her.I don’t think she’s lost any more weight.That might be down to Gideon, who watches her like a hawk in the dining room to make sure she’s eating.I can see that, even from a distance.
There’s another thing I don’t like, and that’s being set back a year.I wish I hadn’t mentioned it to Ms.Vail, but maybe it’s for the best.She immediately switched tack to helping me figure out why I’m so desperate to rejoin my friends.Whether it isn’t more about a general fear of change and of not being in control.And sadly, I have to admit that going back up simply wouldn’t make sense.I’ve already let the tutoring from Henry slide because it’s hard enough just to keep up in the lower sixth now.It feels like failure, seeing that I’ve already done all this work once, but Ms.Vail helps me get my head around the idea that measuring myself against other people isn’t helpful.The fire was a trauma, and I have to admit to that fact.And while the others get to focus fully on their schoolwork,mymind andbody are mainly preoccupied with surviving and getting through the day.Everyone else has an advantage over me.Accepting that isn’t half as straightforward as it sounds, but maybe I’m at least moving toward it.
These are crazy days.Lots of classes, lots of prep, creeping out after wing time for walks with Colin.It’s become a habit.We never know where we’re heading.We just know that we’ll find out together.
Tonight, we end up in that room near the theater, far enough away from all the dorm rooms that Colin can play the dusty old piano while I remember what he told me the first time I saw him there.That he wants to study psychology and be a music therapist.I can really see it for him, but all the same, I think he needs some therapy of his own first.Not that I say so, or not in that room at least.Later on, in my room, I start to tell him about my sessions with Ms.Vail.
“So you’re going regularly now?”Colin asks, lying beside me.He isn’t looking at me because he’s too busy winding my hair around his fingers.
“Yeah.”
“So what’s it like?”He glances up.“Does she ask annoying questions?”
“Constantly,” I say, straight-faced.Colin is taken aback.“But I think that’s what you see her for.”
“Sounds stressful.”
“Hey, you want to be the one asking questions and analyzing things, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I prefer that perspective to the patient’s.”
“Maybe they’re both important.”
He doesn’t answer straightaway.“Maybe,” he says in the end, looking away again.
“And you really won’t even give it a try?”
“Olive...”
“No, I know.You said you don’t want to talk about it, butIwant to talk about it, OK?”
“Why would you want to talk about it?”
“Because I’m worried about you.”
He laughs quietly.“Nobody needs to worry about me.”
“I’m not so sure of that, Colin.”
He doesn’t speak for a while.Then: “I haven’t used the lighter for a week, OK?”
“For a week?”I repeat.
He nods, and he knows as well as I do that it’s longer than a week since I caught him in his room.Much longer.I feel the urge to ask him why he didn’t say anything.But I know that won’t do any good.He’s telling me now, and I should take that.
So instead, I ask, “Where?”
He’s fighting himself.“Ankle.”
“Show me.”
“No.”
“OK, is it bad?”
“No, it...it’s almost gone.”
“So you’re going to need to do it again soon, then?”I guess.
