Chapter 59

MEN IN WHITE COATS

Kooks!” Marjorie meets me at the front door the minute I get home from school. “What happened?” Her nervous little hands flutter to her throat.

“Did they call you?” I ask, but a moment later, I look past her and get my answer. Mr. Tenant Goldborough is sitting on our couch in the living room. Beside him stands Billy, one of the attendants from St. Augustine Hospital.

“Margaret, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Mr. Goldborough says.

“Hi, Billy,” I say. “It’s been a while.” Billy isn’t a bad guy. He’s got broad features and the flat expression of someone who doesn’t ask a lot of questions, which is probably what makes him good at his job.

He sighs and looks at the paperwork in Mr. Goldborough’s hand. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

I shrug. It looks like Ms. Kellerman got everyone’s attention. I guess I shouldn’t have attacked her pencil cup like that. My insides feel heavy—like I just ate a giant block of cheese, or concrete, or something. Ms. Kellerman claims to be so worried about my fragile psyche. Did it ever occur to her that sending people off to the loony bin is the kind of thing that makes them crazy?

But I don’t pitch a fit. I don’t even argue. I just let Billy put a warm hand on my elbow and guide me out the door.

“Oh, Kooks!” Marjorie’s hands have sunk into her hair.

“I’ll be back,” I tell her, and try to smile. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“You sound like my mother,” Marjorie calls after me as we step outside into the steady rain.

I don’t know if it’s true, but I cling to that compliment like a gold coin. I want to put it in my pocket and examine it later. If I could be like Mrs. Morris—even a little bit—then I know I’ll get through this.