The Summoning

Eleven

I TUMBLED OFF HER BED, hitting the floor so hard pain jolted through my spine. When I scrambled up, Liz's bed was empty, the comforter wrinkled only where I'd been sitting.

I took a slow look around the bedroom. Liz was gone.

Gone? She'd never been here. They'd taken her away last night. I hadn't dreamed that part —hair gel still freckled the ceiling.

I pressed my palms to my eyes and backed up until I hit my bed, sitting down on it and inhaling deeply. After a moment, I opened my eyes. Sticky strands of sleep were still woven around my brain.

I'd been dreaming.

No, not dreaming. Not imagining things. Hallucinating.

Dr. Gill was right. I had schizophrenia.

But what if it wasn't? What if Rae was right, and I was seeing ghosts?

I shook my head sharply. No, that was crazy talk. That would mean Liz was dead. That was nuts. I was hallucinating, and I had to accept it.

I reached under my mattress, pulled out the pill I'd stuffed there the night before, and swallowed it dry, gagging in protest.

I had to take my meds. Take them and get better or I'd be shipped off to a real mental hospital, like Liz.

Only Rae joined me for breakfast. Tori was still in her room, and the nurses seemed content to leave her there.

I picked at my cereal, scooping one Cheerio at a lime so it looked like I was eating. I kept thinking of how scared Liz had been. Terrified of being sent away. Then talking about her dream of being tied down, unable to breathe . . .

A hallucination. In real life, things like that don't happen.

And in real life, teenage girls can't make bottles explode and pictures fly off the walls. . . .

"Miss Van Dop?" I said when she came in to lay the breakfast table for the boys. "About Liz . . ."

"She's fine, Chloe. She's gone to a better place."

Those words sent a shiver through me, my spoon clattering against the bowl.

"I'd like to talk to her if I could," 1 said. "I didn't get a chance to say good-bye. Or thank her for helping me my first day."

Miss Van Dop's severe face softened. "She needs to settle in, but we'll call her in a few days and you can speak to her then."

See? Liz was fine. I was being paranoid.

Paranoia. Another symptom of schizophrenia. I pushed back the stab of dismay.

The nurse turned to go.

"Miss Van Dop? Sorry. I, um, I was talking to Mrs. Talbot yesterday, about e-mailing a friend. She said I needed to speak to you."

"Just use the e-mail program to write your letter and click send. It'll sit in the out-box until I enter the password."

Some instructions from my school had arrived, so after breakfast, I showered and dressed as the guys ate, then headed off to class with Rae.

Tori stayed in her room and the nurses let her. That surprised me, but I guessed it was because she was upset over Liz. I remembered Liz saying Tori was here because she was moody. There'd been a girl at drama camp a couple years ago whom I'd overheard counselors calling "moody." She'd always seemed to be either really happy or really sad, with no in-between.

With Tori absent, I was the only ninth grader. Peter was in eighth; Simon, Rae, and Derek in tenth. It didn't seem to matter much. Kind of like running a one-room schoolhouse, I guess. We shared a room with eight desks and we all worked on our separate assignments as Ms. Wang went around, helping and quietly giving short lessons.

Maybe knowing Ms. Wang had been partly responsible for Liz's leaving influenced my opinion of her, but she seemed to be one of those teachers who trudges through her job, watching the clock, waiting for the day to end . . . or a better job to come along.

I didn't get much work done that morning. I couldn't concentrate, couldn't stop thinking about Liz, what she'd done, what had happened to her.

The nurses hadn't seemed at all surprised by the damage in our room. That's just what Liz did, like with the pencil. She got mad and threw things.

But she hadn't thrown that stuff. I'd seen pictures fly from the wall when she'd been nowhere near them.

Or had I?

If I was schizophrenic, how was I supposed to know what I'd really seen or heard? And if paranoia was another symptom, how could I even trust my own gut feeling that said something bad had happened to Liz?

Rae was in session with Dr. Gill for the first part of the morning. When she returned, I spent the rest of the class eagerly awaiting break time, so I could talk to her. Not about Liz and my fears. Just talk to her. About class, last night's movie, the weather . . . anything that would clear Liz from my head.

But she was having problems with a work sheet, and Ms. Wang made her stay through the break. So I promised to grab her a snack, then trudged out, heading for the kitchen, sentenced to another hour or two trapped in my own head, thinking about Liz.

"Hey." Simon jogged up beside me in the hall. "You okay? You seem quiet this morning."

I managed a wan smile. "I'm always quiet."

"Yeah, but after last night, you have an excuse. Probably didn't get much sleep, huh?"

I shrugged.

Simon reached for the kitchen door. A hand appeared over my head and grabbed it for him. I didn't jump this time, just glanced back, and murmured a good morning to Derek. He didn't answer.

Simon headed into the pantry. Derek stayed in the kitchen, watching me. Studying me, again, with that spookily intense look of his.

"What?" I didn't mean to snap, but the word came out harsh.

Derek reached for me. I stumbled back . . . and realized he was reaching for the fruit bowl, which I was blocking. My cheeks burned as I darted out of the way, mumbling an apology. He ignored that, too.

"So what happened last night?" he asked as he grabbed two apples in one big hand.

"Hap-p-p-?"

"Slow down."

My face healed more —with anger now. I didn't like it when adults told me to slow down. From another kid, it was worse. Rude with a grating edge of condescension.

Simon stepped from the pantry, a box of granola bars in hand.

"You should have an apple," Derek said. "That's not —"

"I'm good, bro."

He flipped one granola bar to Derek, then held out the box for me. I took two, with thanks, and turned to leave.

"Might help if you talk about it," Simon called after me.

I turned back. Simon was unwrapping his granola bar, gaze averted, trying to look casual. Derek didn't bother. He leaned back against the counter, chomping into his apple, staring at me, expectant.

"Well?" Derek said when I stayed silent. He gestured for me to hurry up, spill all the gory details.

I'd never been one for gossip. Maybe that's not what they wanted —maybe they were just curious, concerned even. But it felt like gossip, and Liz deserved better.

"Rae's waiting for me," I said.

Simon stepped forward, raising a hand as if to stop me. Then he glanced at Derek. I didn't catch the look that passed between them, but it made Simon pull back, nod a good-bye to me, and busy himself unwrapping the rest of his bar.

The door was still swinging shut behind me when Simon whispered, "Something happened."

"Yeah."

I let the door close, and stood there. Derek said something else, but his low rumble swallowed the words.

"I don't know," Simon said. "We shouldn't —"

"Chloe?"

I wheeled as Mrs. Talbot stepped into the hall from the living room.

"Is Peter around?" she asked. Her broad face beamed.

"Uh, in class I think."

"Could you tell him I need to see him in the living room? 1 have a surprise for him."

I glanced at the kitchen door, but the guys had gone silent. I nodded to Mrs. Talbot and hurried off.

Peter's parents had come to take him home.

He'd known it would be coming soon, but they'd wanted to surprise him, so we had a little party, complete with cake. Low-fat, organic, frosting-free carrot cake. Then his parents went upstairs to help him pack, while Simon, Derek, and Rae returned to class and I had my session with Dr. Gill.

Twenty minutes later, from her office window, I watched his parents' minivan back out the drive and disappear down the street.

Another week and I'd be doing the same. 1 just had to stop thinking about Liz and ghosts and concentrate on getting out.