Cracked by K. M. Walton Page A

room with him.”
    Ellie turns her head and proceeds to whisper in my ear, “Sorry, Victor Konig, but this floor is small. We only have four double rooms up here, and they’re all full. You’re going to have to work it out with William.”
    I sit up as relief washes over me, and keep talking low. “William? Not a kid named Bull?”
    “William,” she says, “not Bull.”
    “Oh. I could’ve sworn . . . whatever, I’m good.” I shake my head and laugh quietly.
    Ellie breezes out, and I smile at my good fortune.
    From behind his curtain, William growls, “It is Bull, Victoria.”
    My smile evaporates, and I start breathing really heavy through my nose. My jaw is clenched. I can’t do this. Notwith him here. Why didn’t those pills just do what they were supposed to do?
    I punch the bed and get up. I sit back down on the edge of the bed. I have nowhere to go. I can’t leave this stupid hospital. I can’t do this. I punch the bed again, and that’s when the tears break through. The piece of fabric separating me and Bull is no sound barrier, and I refuse to cry in front of him.
    I go into the bathroom and shut the door. Where’s the lock? Great, no lock. Then I remember where I am and what I’m here for. Of course there’d be no lock. Bull had better not try to come in here; I swear to God I’d kill him.
    I turn the shower on, strip out of my prison sweats, and jump in. I just stand there and let the hot water run down my body. My skin looks ashen in the fluorescent lighting. I hold my arms out in front of me, and they’re shaking so badly that I drop them back to my sides. Maybe I could steal more pills from somewhere in the hospital, I could suffocate myself, I could . . .
    Oh my God. This is insane. This cannot be real. I can’t do this.
    I slide down the tile wall until I’m in knees-to-chest on the shower floor, and let it all out—again. I cry as hard as I did when I found Jazzer dead. But this time I cry into my bent elbow, so Bull can’t hear me. Of all the people on this wholerotten planet, how could he end up being in the bed next to me? It has to be God’s way of laughing at me. Or punishing me for trying to kill myself.
    I have to get out of here. My nana could get me out; my parents probably gave her permission to act as my legal guardian or some crap like that. I could talk her into anything. I have to get out of here.
    Immediately.

Bull
    THAT ASSHOLE IS MY ROOMMATE? ISN’T THAT GREAT? I hate that douche.
    I bet he was trying to get Ellie to get him out of here. He’s probably crying in the bathroom right now, the freak. Well, they can move me, I don’t care. I don’t really belong here anyway.
    “William, good day, sir. Have you met Victor yet? It sounds like he’s in the shower. Tomorrow you’ll be in group together, so you can get to know each other then.”
    I am like a drooling idiot. She’s talking, but I can’t hear a word she’s saying. I’m staring openmouthed at her eyes. Sheprobably thinks there’s something wrong with me, because her eyebrows are arched and she’s smirking.
    “William, hey, William . . . are you in there?”
    I feel my whole head get hot, so I’m probably red, which is embarrassing. “Sorry. What’s cool?” I try to not seem like a real mental patient. “You said something was cool.”
    She smiles. “I knew you weren’t listening to me. You had on the same face that my fiancé makes when I’m telling him what I need help with around the house. I asked if you had met your roommate yet. Victor?”
    I blurt out, “You can move me, I don’t care. He can have this room all to himself. I’ll move.” Then I’ll look like the hero, and I won’t have to be near preppy-asshole boy.
    She tells me I’m so sweet for even offering to move, but that there are no other rooms and we’ll be just fine in here. She’ll be back after dinner to check on me. And would I like help taking a shower after Victor’s done? I’d have to be tricky and keep my