UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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I woke later. It was still night. Miles was writing in his notebook. He looked over when I rolled onto my back and sat up.
“Feeling any better?” he asked, smiling.
“No, not really.”
He closed his notebook and set it in his lap. “Come here.”
I tottered to the edge of his bed, pulled my legs up next to his, and leaned my head back against his shoulder. His arm wound around me.
The world was hollow. What had been the point of this year? Senior year, all the college applications . . . would it have been better just to go straight to the hospital after Hillpark? I was the one who said no. I said I could do it; I said I had it under control. The only thing my parents could be accused of was trusting me too much.
Miles waited patiently, pretending to be interested in brushing my hair back.
“My parents are sending me to Crimson—to that hospital. I heard them talking about it.”
“But you’re old enough—they can’t decide that for you,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
Then the tears came, spilling out before I could catch them, stinging my face on their way down. “I don’t,” I said. “But I think I need to. I can’t tell the difference by myself. Not anymore.”
I didn’t know if he understood anything I said through my blubbering, but his arm tightened around me and he kissed the side of my forehead. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to persuade me otherwise.
He’d escaped the tank. I didn’t know if I ever would.