Much better.
I carefully read through the entire test.
“Should I answer these questions like I’m having a good day? A bad day? Somewhere between the two?”
“Are most of your days good or bad? Do you ever have an in-between day?”
I think about his question. “No, they’re usually either good or bad.”
He pulls out another testing sheet. “Do both then. Good and bad.”
“Can you also give me a black pen?”
“Sure.”
He hands over the pen and doesn’t seem to judge me.
Like he said he wouldn’t.
I writeGOODin blue at the top of the first sheet andBADin black at the top of the second. Having both options instantly makes me feel better. I take my time answering the good-day questions, and I’m able to get through the bad-day questions a little more quickly. I reread through my answers very carefully, then cap my pens.
“Okay, I’m done.”
Oakley takes both tests. “You can either stay here while I review your tests, or if you wanna go get a soda, that’s fine too.”
I get up. “Do you want anything?”
“If you’re going to the cafeteria, a chocolate milk would be great.”
I leave and take the stairs to shake out some of the extra energy. Miss Odeal smiles when she sees me coming.
“Need a snack, baby?”
I love how older women call me baby. It makes me happy.
I grab a Dr Pepper and a chocolate milk from the ice bin. “I wasn’t thinking of a snack, but if you’ve got something…”
I pop my brows, and she laughs at me. She reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a plate with an enormous slice of chocolate cake.
“Saved this for you.”
I do a little shoulder shimmy, slip the soda and the chocolate milk into each of my cargo pockets, take the plate from her, then grab two forks.
“Thanks, Miss Odeal,” I toss over my shoulder as I make my way out of the cafeteria.
“Happy to, sweetheart. Don’t go causing too much trouble now.”
I turn around, walking backward. “Me? Never.”
She shakes her head, laughing.
I start my run up the stairs, then remember I’ve got soda in one of my pockets and slow down. When I walk back into Oakley’s office, he’s smiling.
“Is it that bad?” I ask, putting down the plate of chocolate cake. I slide the drinks out of my pockets and set them on the desk. “Are you actually laughing at me?”
“Absolutely not.” He holds up both sheets of paper. “I was not expecting this.”
“But you do have a diagnosis, don’t you?”
