“You're free to rest in your rooms or relax in the Common,” Kadar said then. “Your next class isn't for another hour.”
Remaining in line, we filed from the room. Or rather, I tried to. Kadar grabbed my arm and pulled me aside. I blinked up at him in confusion and dread. He wore a serious expression, his eyes dark, his beard stubble more prominent. “Something wrong?” I asked.
“I'm sorry, but you can't go with the others. You have an appointment with Angel. She's a…doctor.”
“What? Why? I'm not sick.”
He didn't explain. “She's in room eight, and she's waiting.” He gave me a gentle push toward the door. “She doesn't like to be kept waiting.”
Freaking great. Another drug test, most likely. I hated that I was being put through that when I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't done anything to cause these A.I.R. agents to lose faith in me.
“I'm not going to stand for this,” I told Kaden through gritted teeth.
His mouth twitched, but he didn't smile. “Just go to room eight, little girl.”
“So…how are your new classes?”
“Good.” I shifted on the plush red couch, a glass of water in hand. Angel was not a medical doctor as I'd assumed, and she hadn't given me a drug test. No, she was some sort of psychiatrist. And she wanted to probe my mind. How do you feel? Are you sad? Blah, blah, blah.
I'd been to what felt like hundreds of this type of session, where a kind, gentle, understanding soul tried to learn all my secrets, all the reasons I did the things that I did.
I could save them the trouble: it had seemed fun at the time. There was nothing more to it than that. Okay, maybe I'd been pissed at my dad. Maybe I'd wanted to lash out at him. Maybe I'd wanted to forget and feel something besides pain. That didn't mean I needed therapy.
“Having any trouble?” she asked.
“Nope.” God, when would this end?
“I'm glad,” she said.
“Yep. Me, too.”
She was a very attractive woman, though she lacked the stunning beauty of the other ladies I'd seen here. She had light brown hair that was pulled back in a twist, brown eyes, and lots of freckles. Very unassuming. Very unthreatening. And yet…
There was something about her. I couldn't look away. Didn't want to look away. She radiated a trust-me vibe, a gentleness that was very soothing.
“Do we really have to do this?” I asked with a weary sigh. “I'm doing good, I feel good, and I haven't done anything wrong. I even passed the drug test.”
She tsk ed under her tongue. “Regardless of how good you feel, regardless of what you've done and what you haven't done, regardless of what you've passed, we really have to do this. So drink your water, please, and relax.”
“I'm not thirsty.”
“You just left a very grueling combat class, followed by an intense weapons class. I don't want you becoming dehydrated.”
“Fine.” I drained the glass and held it out for her inspection. “No more dehydration worries.”
One corner of her mouth curled. “Should I give you a gold star?” She didn't wait for my response, but claimed the glass and set it beside a cup of blue-tinted liquid resting on a nearby table.
“Why do I need a therapy session, anyway?” I grumbled. “None of the other girls have to do it.” That I knew of, I silently amended.
“All the girls will speak with me at one time or another.”
“I'm lucky first, though, right?”
She didn't try to deny it. “None of the other girls are former Onadyn users,” she stated bluntly.
Mia was fond of reminding me; Ryan was found of reminding me. It wasn't like I'd forget. My eyes narrowed on her. “The key word is ‘former.' I no longer use.”
She shrugged, unimpressed with my fervency. “A user is a user, dear. There is no such thing as ‘former.'”
I gritted my molars.
“To be honest,” she said, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, “I'm surprised you were even allowed into the program.”
Not that again. None of them were really giving me a chance. “I deserve to be here.” The complete opposite of what I'd first thought about the camp. But as I spoke, a wave of something swept through my brain. Something odd. A fog, maybe. A sense of acceptance. My shoulders relaxed into the couch, and all of my muscles seemed to melt into the soft fabric. My blood warmed and my heartbeat quickened. “I'm having…there's something wrong with me.”
“No. You're fine.” Her face swam in and out of my vision. “Breathe deeply,” she said. “That's it. In. Out. You're simply tired from physical exertion.”
With every breath, my strength did return. My eyesight cleared, and my heartbeat slowed.
“Good?”
I nodded.
“As to your deservedness, we'll see.” Her stare was intent, probing. “This is a tough place to live and sometimes severe stress can send an addict back to their habit.”
True. It had happened to me once before, the first time I left rehab. Only two weeks had passed before I'd started using again. The temptation had been too great. I'd fallen when I'd overheard my mom talking on the phone to my dad. She'd called and asked him to take me for a drive, to a movie, something, anything to get to know me again, telling him I needed a male influence in my life. He'd refused.
I'd cried and cried and cried, and then I'd gotten high. The downward spiral had once again begun. Drugs, boys. A total lack of concern for the people around me.
My hands clenched into tight fists. “I'm not going to fly,” I told Angel. “I'm not going to drink Breathless. I'm not going to puff it or inject it. I don't like the girl I become when I do.”
Angel's chin canted to the side. “What kind of girl is that?”
My cheeks heated, but I didn't soften the truth. “A liar. A thief. A…slut. Violent. Untrustworthy.”
“And what kind of girl do you want to be?”
Uh, duh. “The complete opposite. Honorable. Trustworthy.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that.” She tapped her bloodred nails on her bare knee. Her skirt had ridden up, revealing several inches of her thigh. “I'd really like to continue our conversation about your classes. You never answered me. What do you like about them?”
I propped my elbows on my knees and dropped my head into my hands. Just tell her the truth and get it over with. I want to be trustworthy, remember. “I like most of it. The instructors need to do a better job of treating us like adults and some of the stupid rules need to be rescinded.”