The Way We Bared Our Souls Read Free

get out of there.
    “Then you’re free to get dressed. Mr. and Mrs. McDon-ough, may I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?”
    My parents left with the doctor. In a daze, I began to reassemble my outfit. Faded black jeans. A vintage rock T-shirt that was always slipping off my shoulder. It wasn’t until my boots were laced up that I realized I’d forgotten to put on my socks.
    Focus, Lo.
I tried to imagine a drug I could take to feel at home in my body again, to feel less scatterbrained and off-kilter. It’d be called TranquiLo™. Side effects included drowsiness, loss of appetite. . . .
    I ran into my parents in the hallway, and as soon as I saw their bleak faces, I knew I didn’t want to engage with them. I told them I was in a rush to make it to the end of fourth period, and then fled the hospital into the vivid New Mexico sunshine before anybody—or anything—could slow me down. I wouldn’t make history class, but I’d get to lunch before the bell, and I desperately wanted to see my friends, eat some potato chips in the courtyard, laugh about stupid teenage stuff, and forget the morning ever happened.
    • • •
    I made it to lunch period just in time to get faux-stern reprimands from my best friends, Alex and Juanita, who were sitting on the courtyard concrete in the midst of an epic hair-styling session. Alex had her legs wrapped around Juanita’s hips for better leverage and was putting the finishing touches on a long, silky braid.
    “Lo! You’re, like, four hours late,” Alex said as she looped the finished braid around the back of Juanita’s head. “Pretty tardy, young lady, even for you. What gives?”
    Alex and I had bonded freshman year over a fetal pig dissection in the world’s grossest biology lab, and my social life hadn’t been the same since. Alex is pretty and blond, and she brought me into her exclusive circle of rich Anglo kids and hot athletes who make up the picnic society around our school’s circular courtyard fountain, which we’d redundantly nicknamed “Agua de Water.” At lunch we also threw coins in the water, wishing for things like calorie-free guacamole and our favorite movie stars to fall in love with us via our Twitter accounts.
    “Yeah, chica,” Juanita said, jumping up and swinging her arms around me after making sure her hair was in place. “Where’ve you been? Alex won’t stop going on about kissing Brett last night, and I need a buffer from her blah blah blahs.” Her hand made a motormouthed puppet. “Oops, sorry,” she said to Alex. “I guess mind-numbing boredom is the price to pay for your beautician services.”
    Alex laughed and threatened to muss Juanita’s hair. “Damn right. Anyway, you’re just jealous that you missed the show last night because you had to help Ellen barf out her guts in the bathroom.”
    “Oh no,” I said, snapping to attention. “Again?”
    “Yup,” Juanita said. “This is
after
she decided to make a fool of herself with Jason’s karaoke machine. But we’ll talk about that later. It merits serious discussion. Meanwhile, Lo, for real, where’ve you been all morning? Chemistry felt ten hours long without you.”
    “I didn’t tell you guys I had a doctor’s appointment?”
    The truth was, my parents were the only ones who knew about my Mysterious Symptoms. I didn’t want anyone to think I was a weirdo. Or overreact and get worried when I might not even have anything wrong with me at all. I just wanted to be normal until I couldn’t be normal anymore. I wanted to be normal until my normalcy dried up like the river that ran through the center of town. And besides, I was probably fine. I was going to ask my parents if we could get a second opinion from a doctor whose belt buckle didn’t weigh as much as a car engine. Better yet, I’d get better before my next appointment. I was probably just eating too much sugar, or there was toxic mold in my bedroom, or my hormones were out of