Chapter 21

The lights are flashing but no one’s home.

Heckleena tweets this in my head. I smile at the glimmering lights of the advancing fire trucks and lean into the warmth of the fire. Frannie thinks it’s pretty. Dad took me camping once. It was fall. Marshmallows have never tasted so good.

The lights glare inside the ambulance, and some guy mouths words above me. A stethoscope hangs around his neck and he wears a uniform. Why doesn’t he speak? I can’t read lips, I say. But I’m not buying what he’s selling anyway.

This is different.

Lights flit past above my head. Lying flat on the gurney, I inspect the decor. I hate hospital green—no fashion sense. Tule says no to green in shades of pus and snot. People move around me. Lots of them. An emergency doc, a burn doc, and then I hear the words I expected.

“Consult to psych,” he says.

Good, I’ll see Mom. We can be roomies. Better than that, maybe this means I am more like her than Dad.

The light’s softer here. It emanates from a lamp and I’m raised forward. A man strides in. He’s a man with too much to do, places to be, heart attacks to diagnose. If you want something done on time, give it to a busy man, Gumps thinks.

I sit staring for however long it takes for dawn to leak through the window. Then I shut my eyes, waking to a needle prick.

The nurse, he’s sticking me. And it’s like it’s not my arm. I can’t feel the needle or the gentle tugs on my wrist as he takes my pulse. Zombie girl, Heckleena calls me.

A doctor again. He shines lights in my eyes. A blood pressure cuff hugs my bicep. I’m breathing easy, the wrap around my ribs is gone. Two medical students appear beside the doctor. A twenty-second diagnosis: “Dissociative, in a daze, mumbling. Yup, yup, yup. Acute Stress Disorder. Good work, Dr. McNally.”

“What happened, Janus, what happened?”

Williams speaks.

I look through her and recall my mother looking back through me.

“Burning,” I say.

“Did you see who set the fire? It wasn’t accidental,” she says, moving her head around as if trying to enter my line of sight.

“Burning. Kettlebells,” I say.

“She’s talking about a different fire,” Williams says to the doctor. The students are gone.

“Did she set that fire?” the doctor asks.

Yes, I did.

“Is she connected to any other fires?” the doctor asks. It’s like I’m not here. Call me Carrie, JanusFlyTrap says.

Maybe I’m not here.

“I just don’t know,” I say.

“That’s what the insurance company is asking too.” Another voice. Gruff. It pats my hand.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“She’s like a zombie,” another voice says. A girl. Hannah?

“Too many visitors.” The doctor snaps his fingers and a door clicks shut. There’s only room for doctors, residents, the police, nurses. No friends allowed. I think I hear Jonny too. Peter’s here. I can smell his old man cologne.

I feign sleep and the scent fades.

I wake to music. Jonny’s picking a tune on his guitar. His head is down, focused on fingering, hair hanging over his expression. I remain quiet. Me, watching the fluid dance of his fingers and the sliding of his hand over frets. It’s Spanish, I think, but I don’t know much about music. Did I really believe I could play a symphony on my leg?

“Jan.” The music stops and Jonny floats over to me. “You’re awake.”

I breathe him in. Turpentine. Roast chicken.

The thought of food turns my stomach.

“What happened, Jan?”

“I missed class,” I say.

He smiles sadly. “Yeah, you could say that.” He’s brought the Sisterhood book and another on hacking, plus my phone.

“There was a fire,” I say. And I think of burning servers.

“It was really hot,” he replies. “Accelerant. Do you think it was the customers?” He uses air quotes around customers and I love him.

“I just don’t know,” I say.

“But you do, you were on to something before the fire. You were.” He’s shifted closer on the bed and leans down. Roast chicken and garlic potatoes.

“I don’t.”

“Jan, Jan?” Jonny sighs his defeat. “Here,” he says, and leaves Heckleena’s Twitter account open on my phone to her last tweet.

You’re all just a sack of potatoes. Better left in a cold, dark place.

Her red lips mock me.

More days pass. I know this because Peter’s clothes change each time he visits and the staff tries to force me to do the same things. Like eat. Like walk around or play video games. They ask the same questions. “Do you feel like hurting yourself or others?”

“I just don’t know.” It’s my refrain, but there’s no music to it. Christmas presents appear. Decorations garnish the ward, but it’s like putting diamond studs in a pig’s ears. It’s still a pig. Still a hospital ward.

My mom even visits. We’re in different hospitals. I’m on the pediatric psych ward at the children’s hospital. She manages a smile, but most of the time we stare at each other. Peter’s always here. A chaperon, but I don’t care.

Karl comes. He brings flowers and another teddy bear. I hug it. But on my phone, Heckleena’s lips don’t move. Shadownet is burned. I remember now. I just don’t want to talk about it. A few books, a pair of earrings, and a phone case appear on my table. Presents I don’t recall opening. Merry Christmas.

Jonny grows angry. He raises his hands. “You know your insurance company isn’t paying because they think you set the fire. You know Trin hasn’t been paid.”

Merry Christmas.

Frost has crept around the sides of the window, shielding me from the outside world.

“Peter can take care of it,” I say. And he will. He’s nodding. He’ll take care of Trin, but the rest? “I just don’t know.”

The decorations are gone. Ellie visits. She’s tight lipped. Tells me that they’re going to have to redistribute the international students.

It reminds me that my semester is done. I have to retake. “I just don’t know.”

When I speak, Ellie glances up and adjusts her beret. “Jan?” She smiles; I guess because I spoke. Maybe she thinks it was a breakthrough. “You were a little crazy leading up to all this. Manic, they say.”

“I just don’t know.” It wasn’t a breakthrough.

Her chin drops. “Well, okay. Get better.”

Jonny’s back and angrier.

“Everything you’ve worked for,” he says. “You’ve told me how important Assured Destruction is to you, to your mom.”

“I—” I begin.

“And if you say, I just don’t know, one more time, I swear, I’ll never come back.” He’s red faced and I’ve never seen him like this. I blink, like I’m coming out of a dream. Peter looms behind him, sausage hand reaching for Jonny’s shoulder. He calms beneath the grip.

I nod.

After Jonny leaves, I read the book. It takes me a while because I need to read each line a few times for it to sink in. I don’t know why Jonny picked it. I just don’t know. And then, everyone stops coming. It’s as if they’ve given up on me. I can’t blame them.

A night later, I turn over and am drifting off to sleep when Heckleena’s Twitter account tweets.

And it’s not by my hand.