18

A Crack in the Wall

SINCE NOBODY KNEW WHO I was anyway, after school I changed costumes and put on the one that I wore just about every year. The problem with wearing Mom’s scrubs on a night in October was that, even when it had been nice out during the day, after sundown, in a car with the engine off, the thin, cotton material did nothing to fight the cold. Mom had been inside for a half hour already, and even huddled in her lab coat, my hands were getting too cold to text. I was getting shivers.

The parking lot of New Vista Behavioral Health Center was mostly deserted, since it was after business hours, but there was a sprinkling of cars in the field of painted lines. Mom had parked right up front in some doctor’s space, so I was under one of the fancy streetlights, which flickered creepily as the wind-tossed branches created shadows.

We were supposed to be at the mall by now. Trick-or-Treat Street only went on from five to seven thirty, before NewPark became a regular mall again, just one with a bunch of extra security guards wandering around to shoo out the teens who were hanging around while they took down the haunted house. If Mom didn’t hurry up, I wouldn’t get to trick-or-treat at all—it was already six thirty.

My phone chimed with a text from MAMA MIA.

Going to be another ten minutes or so. Sorry.

“Oh, come on!” I moaned, my head falling back against the headrest with an annoyed thump. I wanted candy, but at this rate, I was going to get to hit only one store. I sighed and unlocked my seat belt, zipping up my jacket before stomping out of the car. There was no way I was going to sit out here another minute and freeze in my stupid costume. I typed back with chilly thumbs.

Waiting in lobby so I don’t freeze/die.

I got back Mom’s smiley face as I chose the set of heavy glass doors off to the left and tugged my way into the building. New Vista’s administrative offices were warm and quiet, and nowhere near the staff-only areas where patients stayed, and where Mom probably was.

I breathed out a sigh as heat bathed my cheeks. The banks of fluorescent bulbs above the receptionist’s computers were dim, but light shone behind the closed window of the financial office, illuminating a path through clusters of low tables, benches, and chairs in the L-shaped waiting room. I headed for the elbow of the L, as far away from the cold night air as I could get, and pulled up a cushy seat right beneath the heating register. Bliss. Now it didn’t matter how long Mom took. Mostly. She told us every year we could just get cheap candy the day after Halloween, but THAT was NOT the point.

I had my feet propped against the wall, trying to successfully match different-colored jewels on my tiny phone screen when the lobby doors opened again. The sound of someone plopping down in one of the leather chairs by the reception desk, and a snap as a tiny lamp came on piqued my curiosity. What sounded like a suitcase opening interested me even more.

I slipped my phone into my back pocket, bored and nosy enough to fake a need for the water fountain. Once there, I held my toy stethoscope down and slurped noisily, then took the few extra steps necessary to peep around the corner.

What I saw had me pulling back and silently smacking my own forehead.

Plugged in to the base of the lobby lamp sat a laptop, on top of a familiar brown briefcase to make it a little higher. He was logging in to the hospital’s guest Wi-Fi page, and he had a box of Red Vines on the table in front of him.

It was stupid to hide. Blowing out a breath, I stepped out from behind the corner.

“Harrison?”

Harrison didn’t even jump. He just sighed and glanced over his shoulder. “Serena.”

Nope, this was not super awkward at all.

“Um, what are you doing here?” I blurted, then bit down on my tongue until my eyes watered. Could I sound any more brainless? “I mean, I see your laptop; are you going to watch a movie?”

“No,” Harrison said, then shrugged and added, “Mom and Dad are with Lance. My brother?” His brows raised, as if I needed reminding.

“Yeah, I remember your brother’s here. I’m waiting for my mom,” I offered.

“Yep.” Harrison fiddled with his laptop again.

“So I guess you’re not going out tonight,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Nope.”

From his one-word answers, I knew Harrison didn’t want to talk; slime molds could probably tell that, and Mrs. Vejar told us they don’t actually have brains. But part of me felt like being annoying. He shouldn’t still be acting weird with me. I’d apologized, hadn’t I?

I crossed the room and dropped into the upholstered chair next to Harrison.

“Did you finish making your virus flash cards yet?” I asked. “I can quiz you.”

“I’m not doing flash cards,” Harrison said, scrolling through a website.

I leaned forward to see what he was reading. It was so boring that I couldn’t help myself. “Jeez, Harrison, are you reading the newspaper? See, this is why no one ever calls you Harry.”

Now that I’d said them out loud, the words didn’t sound as good as they had in my head. Mr. Howard would have called them a non sequitur. That sounded fancy, but it just meant it made zero sense.

It didn’t impress Harrison, either, who glared. “Serena, what do you want?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I didn’t know why I was bugging him. What did I actually want?

I didn’t really know Harrison, but he was part of . . . life, at school. Like the walls and the bulletin boards and the desks. Without Harrison insulting me, I felt . . . a space, like a chair out of place, one I kept tripping over, and stubbing my toe. Why wouldn’t he forgive me? He was only mad because he said I was treating him like he had a disease. How could anyone catch mental health issues from just talking about his brother? Was that a thing?

All I wanted was for him to stop treating me like I was the disease. For everything to go back to the way it was.

“I want to know about your brother,” I blurted. “And you. And your family, and stuff.”

“JC wants to know, or you?” Harrison asked, his mouth tightening.

I swallowed. I kind of deserved that. “You don’t have to say anything. You just . . . can. If you want to.”

Harrison shrugged, his eyes on his computer screen.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Should I apologize again? Should I leave Harrison alone? I tried to think of what Fallon would say if she was here. I couldn’t think of anything.

My phone vibrating in my back pocket had me jumping up in relief. I flipped open my phone to see a new message.

On my way.

Excellent. If we hurried, I’d still have twenty minutes to collect my haul.

I took two steps toward the door and stopped.

“Um, Harrison?” My mouth was weirdly dry.

Harrison nodded to my phone. “Yeah, I know. That’s your mom. Bye.”

“Um, wait. We’re going to Trick-or-Treat Street. Do you want to ask your mom and dad if you can go? My mom can drop you off back here, no problem.”

Harrison’s eyebrows rumpled as he frowned. He looked confused, then suspicious. “No. Thank you.”

My throat pinched. He was still treating me like a disease, but at least I’d tried. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Hey, Hobbit?” Harrison said as I pushed on the heavy glass.

The old nickname expanded my lungs with a rush of hope. I half-turned toward Harrison, tense with cautious optimism. “What?”

“Nobody will believe a Hobbit is a doctor, you know. You’re just too short.”

“Shut up, you giant boy mutant,” I scoffed, but I couldn’t keep from grinning.