Gateway (The Gateway Trilogy, Book 1) Read Free

tell me.”
    She made a sound I couldn't distinguish between sympathy and mocking.  
    “Come on,” she said standing. “I’ll show you around.”
    I had no choice but to be rude or follow. It didn’t make sense ticking off my new roommate, so I trailed after her. Plus, a lay of the land couldn't hurt. Just past the nurses' station was a set of double doors propped open with chairs.
    “This is the rec room. Group meets here on Monday,” she said, “and you’ll have a one-on-one with Dr. Shaw once or twice a week.”
    “Depending on how screwed up I am?” I asked.
    “Basically. Your first real session with him takes like two hours , and after that he’ll decide how 'screwed up' you are and give you a schedule. Don't get your hopes up, on a suicide you're pretty much guaranteed two.”
    In the corner, a small group of patients huddled around a nineteen-inch television set from the 90's.
    “Strictly basic cable,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes.
    Another corner housed art supplies. It was the first bit of good news I'd gotten about the place. A middle-aged woman was doing a small watercolor of the trees outside.
    “Can we use these anytime?” I asked.
    “Except when the room is being used for something else. And you can't take anything from here into your room.”
    We'd see about that.
    Before I’d completed my mental inventory, Lauren was already leading me down another hall.
    “This is the dining area. Breakfast is at seven, lunch at noon and dinner at six. The food sucks. If it weren’t for the vending machine I’d have to become anorexic.”
    My mouth twitched into a smile. Bulimic. The Voice was right. Not that that should have still been surprising. It was always right.
    She stopped short and fixed me with an intense gaze. “The peanut butter cups are mine.”
    My smile broadened, but then I realized she was serious. “Um, OK… sure. You got it.”
    She let out a breath I didn’t know she’d been holding. “Good. My last roommate just could not keep that straight. It was a real problem.”
    On the surface she was everything I hated, but I kind of liked her for her honesty. It was refreshing. How often in life does someone just lay out what they need from you, no BS attached?   I knew I wouldn’t be baring my secrets so easily, the least I could do was oblige hers.  
    We came to a window at the end of the hall. From the looks of it, I guessed we were on the third floor. Lauren pointed to a small building across the lawn.
    “That’s where we go to class.”
    “Yeah, Dr. Shaw told me about that. We’re in a nuthouse but we have to go to school? That is such crap.”
    As if either weren't bad enough on their own.
    “It’s not so bad,” she said. “We take our time walking there—it’s nice to get outside—and everybody is in a different grade so half the time you’re just doing your own thing. And Mr. Morehouse is OK, as long as you don’t get on his bad side.”
    There wasn’t much else to show, so Lauren went to watch TV. I felt anything but social, so I shuffled back to our room and laid down. I wanted to read, but for all the bath products in different scents my mother had packed, she had, of course, neglected to pack a single book. Who needs mind expansion when you can smell nice?
    Again, the thought of my mother brought up feelings of guilt.
    Like she consults you on major life decisions…
    It had a point. Three different high schools in three years. We moved whenever she had the whim, or whenever our neighbors complained too much. All in L.A., but still, back when I had had friends it had been nearly impossible to keep in touch once we'd left one zip code for another. In a city with traffic as bad as Los Angeles, five miles becomes a long-distance relationship.
    Still, I wondered how she was, what she was doing. She'd been off her meds for months now, which is why there had been such a healthy supply for me to utilize. I imagined her pacing the floor of our apartment, chewing