Broken by C.J. Lyons Page B

convincing them not to use drugs or drink too much or help with anger management. But this…” His voice fades. “I’m so worried I’m going to mess up and someone’s gonna get hurt. Like before.” From the tight edge to his voice, I know he’s talking about Nessa’s sister, Yvonne.
    “It’ll be all right, Jordan,” my mom says.
    “Something’s going on with Nessa. She’s up all the time and I’m not sure if it’s a side effect of grief or an act she’s pulling to get people to stop asking her how’s she’s doing or if she’s just in denial and lying to everyone including herself.” His words pour out faster than a waterfall.
    Wow. This was more than I’d heard Jordan say all day yesterday.
    “Is she acting like her sister did? Before—” Concern makes my mom’s voice sound like she’s caught something in her throat.
    “Yeah. Kinda. That’s what scares me.”
    “Jordan.” Now Mom sounds serious. “Is Vanessa taking any medication?”
    “I don’t know. Why?”
    “Antidepressants can sometimes unmask mania.”
    “But her dad’s a shrink; wouldn’t he know better?” Jordan scrapes his chair back like he can’t get comfortable.
    “He refused to see what was going on with Yvonne.”
    “But what can I do? I couldn’t help Vonnie. I can’t risk messing up with Nessa.”
    “You can’t blame yourself, Jordan. I’ll talk with Vanessa’s father, see if I can help.” She paused. “How’s everything else going? With the support group?”
    “Scarlet’s doing great.” I beam, pride filling me with his words. Jordan Summers thought I, the girl freak, was great. I wonder if Mom asked him that just so I could hear the answer. Or has she forgotten all about me back here?
    He continues, “But you think she has it bad with Mitch Kowlaski? You should see what poor Celina’s going through. I don’t know how she does it. I’d transfer out or something if I had to face that every day. She doesn’t deserve this shit. I keep telling her that, but it doesn’t seem to help. It’s like she’s shutting out the whole world.”
    I still have no idea why Celina was in peer support but whatever it was, she was getting bullied worse than being lit on fire by a Neanderthal? Guilt pours over me; it feels cold and clammy, like a spitball hitting my insides. I hadn’t even known—hadn’t even thought about her much at all, other than being glad when she was there to help me.
    My first real friends and I’m failing them.
    “I’ve tried my best to help her,” Mom says, an edge to her voice. “But I can’t do anything if she doesn’t let me.”
    Back in the hospital, I was pretty good at helping kids with problems. Figuring out how to tell their folks how they really felt about their treatments or finding the right person to tell about a mean nurse or doctor—usually my mom. Maybe I could figure out why Celina was being bullied and help her? After all, I did stand up to Mitch Kowlaski yesterday.
    I listen as Mom gives Jordan advice and encouragement, paying attention to how she does it without judging him or talking down to him. See, this is why I need to make it through this week no matter what. If I go back to homeschooling myself, how am I going to learn all this stuff? It’s so much more important than learning trig or Spanish.
    Friends. Real friends like Jordan and Nessa and Celina and Tony. They’ll be much better for me than any medicine the doctors could prescribe.

24
    I get to English early. Nessa rushes in just as the bell rings and has to sit all the way across the room from me, but she waves and gives me a smile. Celina comes in a few minutes late, hands Mrs. Gentry a note, and slumps into a seat in the far back.
    “Let’s talk about the importance of memory—and how it can betray us,” Mrs. Gentry says.
    I have my memory journal entry all ready to go, but to my disappointment, Mrs. Gentry doesn’t actually collect them. Instead, she simply glances to see we’ve written