Broken by C.J. Lyons Page A

arrived on time. Another ten minutes goes by and she goes from upset to angry. Then first bell rings and she throws up her hands.
    “That girl. You try and try to help her—”
    I look up from where I’m reading the notes Tony brought me from bio. “Is there anything I can do?”
    Thanks to Celina, I know Nessa and Jordan are in peer support because of Nessa’s sister killing herself, but I have no clue why Celina needs mentoring or support. In fact, yesterday she seemed more of a leader than Jordan.
    “No. I’m sure she failed to show up for her appointment because of her little sister.” She rolls her eyes in disdain. Which surprises me. What could a little kid do to get on Mom’s bad side?
    Mom answers the question before I can ask it. “You have no idea about her sister. That girl once bit me.”
    “She bit you? When?”
    “Six years ago.” Mom’s memory could outlast an elephant’s. “I was doing the flu clinic for the district. They sent me to do the special needs kids since I’m most experienced. Didn’t have any trouble at all until it was Cari’s turn. She threw a fit but I got the shot in her. Then she calmed down, turned around, smiled, and sunk her teeth right in me.” Mom’s voice changes to a tone I’ve only heard her use about doctors and nurses who let her down or mess up my care. More than angry. Bitter.
    “How old was she?”
    “Six. Old enough to know better.”
    “But if she’s special needs?”
    “Having autism is no excuse. She knew exactly what she was doing.” Again with the voice.
    It’s funny, but when Mom gets mad at people, bad things tend to happen to them. Like this nurse who wouldn’t listen to Mom about my IV—she ended up accidentally overdosing another patient on potassium. Would have killed them if Mom hadn’t recognized the symptoms and called the code. And an intern who refused to get the attending to come when Mom was sure I was having Bad Symptoms; two days later someone broke into his car. Karma, she calls it. What goes around comes around.
    Still, it’s spooky. Makes me kinda glad Celina isn’t here. Not when Mom’s in this kind of mood.
    I go back to bio while she closes the privacy curtain and begins her day. I try not to listen, but it’s hard in such a small office. At first it’s kids wanting to skip a class or sit out in gym without a note from their parents. Mom makes quick work of them, checking their vitals, asking them questions, and sending all but one back to class. The one, a girl whose voice I don’t recognize, sits with Mom, and they begin to talk.
    Fascinated, I listen shamelessly as Mom slowly unwinds the girl’s story. Her boyfriend is jealous, texted her all night so she got no sleep, and it wasn’t the first time. The girl begins sobbing as Mom comforts her and gives her advice about handling the boyfriend as well as making an appointment to talk with her more. She leaves after thanking my mom for her help.
    When I was a kid, I was embarrassed by the way my mom always inserted herself into other people’s problems. Then, during the Year of Nothing Good, I flat out hated her for it. Here I was, almost dying, and she was focusing all her attention on other dying kids. Not that I actually wanted her overly involved in my life, but that didn’t stop me from resenting the fact that I wasn’t the center of her world.
    But now I understand why Mom does what she does. What I think of as meddling, she sees as helping. Like if she can help someone else with their problems, maybe she doesn’t have to worry so much about her own kid. That whole karma thing again.
    In a warped way, it’s showing me how much she loves me.
    Figuring that out makes me proud she’s my mom.
    More kids come and go and I focus on my work. But then I hear a familiar voice. Jordan.
    “I just don’t know what to do, Mrs. Killian,” he’s saying. “When I volunteered for peer mentoring, I figured they’d pair me with other guys, maybe spend my time