Lulu looks around the circle, making eye contact with anyone who can bear it. The ones who can’t look just stare down at their feet. That’s fine with Lulu. It’s fine, too, that Elspeth is wearing only one slipper, and it’s fine that Ned stinks because no one can convince him to take a shower. It’s also fine that Andy is lying on the floor in the middle of the circle, humming softly to himself. At least he’s here. At least he knows he isn’t dead.
Lulu finishes her attendance check. Cayden’s here, and Beatrix, and Michaela, and Hannah, and everyone else.
It’s fine. Everything is fine. Lulu finds repeating this to herself to be helpful.
“Let’s start with our daily check-in,” she says. “Do I have any volunteers?” Lulu sees a hand wildly waving. “Thanks, Beatrix, let’s hear what’s happening with you today.”
“We’re not Beatrix—we switched,” she says. “Alex is fronting.”
Lulu should’ve guessed. Beatrix never raises her hand. “Hello, Alex. Nice to see you again.”
Alex, Beatrix’s most talkative alter, begins a rambling story about a dream he had, which Lulu finally cuts off after a solid five minutes. “Thank you so much for sharing,” she says. “Can you write the rest down in your dream journal?”
“Sure, okay, no problem,” Alex says amiably.
Lulu turns back to the group. “Who wants to talk about how they’re feeling this morning?”
No one speaks. Andy even stops humming.
“We’re happy to keep talking,” Alex says. “If that would be helpful.”
Then Gloria blurts, “My boyfriend broke up with me. The bastard came to visiting hours yesterday so he could tell me to my fat, stupid face.”
This sparks a loud and immediate chorus of supportive outrage from everyone in the group—everyone, Lulu notices, except Hannah. She’s staring into space, oblivious to what’s going on.
Lulu leans forward. “Hannah?” she says quietly. “Are you with us?”
But Hannah doesn’t even blink. “Who is it?” she hisses. “Who is it?”