Never Alone

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Shima stared down at her pasty mashed potatoes. She dragged her plastic Spork across the top of the bland, beige heap of instant spuds. Four lines appeared in its wake and I thought of the tiny desktop Zen garden my grandmother had given me during her visit over Christmas. I used to love when Grandma and Grandpa would come into town and stay with us for the holidays. We would bake cookies and shop at the mall even though the crowds were almost unbearable. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get myself to leave my room the last time they came. I didn't want to face them or answer questions about my life and friends. I came out for meals because my parents forced me to, but I made excuses to stay out of any other family activities.

How exactly did a tray of sand and a miniature rake make us feel Zen? It didn't. Nothing helps. Which was exactly why I was in that stupid hospital staring at this awful food. Another tray was plopped down on the metal table inside the small dining room, but Shima didn't even lift her head. I guess they could make us stay there, but they couldn't make us be friendly. Her Spork dove beneath the paste again as she demolished the orderly lines. The thin recyclable tray made a cracking sound as the points of the safety-approved Spork pierced the bottom below her potatoes.

"I think they're already dead," Aideen spouted sarcastically as she sat behind the tray she'd just set on the table. She waited for Shima to respond, but when she didn't she just pushed forward. "You're pretty badass for volunteering."

"What's there to lose?" Shima practically whispered, still not moving her eyes up to make contact with Aideen's. I got the feeling she hadn't done it to be cool, she'd done it because the sooner we got the whole experiment over with, the sooner she could go back home and do it right. Or maybe I was just assuming we all had the same plan.

"Have you ever done any drugs before?" Aideen speared a lump of meatloaf and brought it up to her nose for a sniff. Her face pinched with a disgusted look. Gross. It fell from its perch back down to the tray with a thump.

"No."

"Not even weed?" Aideen asked, surprised. "I thought everyone our age has at least tried weed." She dug a small chip out of the pressed meat and raised it toward her mouth. "Why'd you say you'd try the medication then? Don't you want to wait to see what happens to someone else?" She placed the brownish-grey meat into her mouth, chewing it carefully as if it might start fighting back.

"Not everyone does drugs. You must watch a lot of movies or old high-school dramas."

Aideen tossed the meatloaf around on her tongue before spitting it into a napkin with a sour face. She motioned for Shima to continue.

"I volunteered because I don't care anymore. We need to get this over with, and it just so happens I'm great at helping people abuse substances."

"So if you weren't the addict, who was?" Aideen moved on to the tiny compartment of chewy corn kernels.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was the sharing table." Shima reached for her tray and started to get up, but Aideen's shaky hand landed on top of hers.

"Don't go." Their eyes met again and for a moment, and I thought Shima might actually draw a healthy boundary and move from her spot, but then she sat back down. "Thank you. I just thought we should get to know each other since we are going to be the first to do it and all."

Marco turned in our direction from the end of the line with two trays and his eyes found mine. His lips tipped up slightly in a way that made my heart rate speed up and for a second, I almost forgot where we were. With a sinking feeling, I remembered. I let my gaze fall back to the table as he approached us. "What's up?" he asked as he set the trays down across from mine. Ken wheeled himself up to the table and the former star athlete struggled to move aside a plastic chair so he could fit.