Gobbled Box Set

By S.E. Burr

You think a fairy tale is just a story.
What if it hides a message?
All Clarity's mom ever gave her is the fairy tale storybook, Goblin Market.
Her whole life, Clarity has helped care for her mother, a mindless, shuffling shell of a person.
At sixteen, Clarity meets Audrey, a girl filled with grief and guilt over her brother who has been struck with the same affliction.
With nothing but a cryptic clue from Goblin Market, Clarity and Audrey risk their lives to cure the people they love.
Goblin Fruit is a YA paranormal novel featuring fast-paced action, heartbreaking decisions, and two unstoppable heroines. Buy it now!
(Includes Goblin Fruit, Goblin Girl, and Goblin Winter.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willow Road Press
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016

Book preview

Author

Goblin Fruit

DEDICATION

To the wall you scolded for running into me,

To the wheelchair-bound turkey who gave us its drumsticks,

To the duck-billed dinosaur bones in your backyard,

and to you, Frank.

Also to my mom, who knows I couldn't have done it without her.

1

My breakfast—watermelon chunks, apple slices, green grapes, blueberries, and a dollop of bright orange yogurt—sat forgotten beside my sketchbook as I watched my mother eat. Looking down at my sketch, I drew in her hair, the long, flowing tresses of my imagination, not the short, drab, buzz cut she wore now. Her hair was cut that way because it was easy to maintain and keep clean, but it wasn’t attractive. It didn’t look very good on the male patients; on women it was awful. I drew her the way Dad said she had looked that one night, sixteen years ago, her face peaceful in sleep, her shining, golden hair forming a halo around her on the pillow.

My mom and dad, Sara and Frank, met when they were twelve years old when they lived together in a group home. Overcrowded, under-managed, drab, and lonely, to Dad it was a home in nothing but name. His parents had been killed in a car accident, and his only other relative was a grandmother who had dementia and was living in a home herself. Mom’s parents were probably alive but didn’t want to be bothered with raising her. She’d never known her father, and her mother had gone on a South American vacation, met a man there, and never come back.

Mom was Dad’s only friend in the group home. He said her golden hair and bright, hazel eyes were his only lights in that dark place. She was friends with all the kids there, always smiling, always ready for the next adventure, and always getting in trouble with the adults who ran the place. After Dad was adopted—rescued—he thought about Mom all the time. He wondered what had happened to her, but he never knew, never saw her again, for over fifteen years.

I drew what Mom looked like the moment she and Dad were reunited, when he looked through an open hospital room door and saw her there sleeping. In that first startled moment of recognition, when he gasped and said her name, he didn’t notice that there was someone else in the room, a child in a plastic bassinet. I was three hours old.

2

Audrey walked along the sidewalk, feeling exposed despite the constant stream of traffic. It was too open—flat sidewalks, flat streets. Even the buildings were flat—single story stucco houses made to look like adobe, flat roofs and all. The landscaping consisted mostly of gravel and cacti; the only trees were spindly, twisted, and small, like stooping old men.

A chilly wind sent strands of hair blowing into her face and whipped dust into the air, but the sun shone brightly, adding to her feeling of exposure, as though the wide open sky were watching her.

Pushing the hair from her eyes, she wondered when she’d last had a haircut. It had been a while. Her roots were showing; her hair was brown at the top and dull orange at the bottom. When she'd dyed it, it had been a surprising, vibrant orange, but it had since faded.

She'd gained weight, too. Always having considered herself a bit chubby, now the word fat seemed like a more apt description.

As the sidewalk led her past a schoolyard, she stopped and looked in at the children playing. The school was one-story faux adobe like everything else in Organo, and so seemed alien to her, but the playground equipment was familiar—swings, monkey bars, a slide—the same things she’d played on in elementary school. She closed her eyes and listened to the children's shouts and laughter, and then something else. With a start, her eyelids popped back open.

Supposing themselves unobserved, a group of children chanted, Red rover, red rover... but before they could call someone over, a teacher came running toward them.

Stop it! she said with alarm. Don't you know how dangerous that is?

Audrey turned and walked away, not wanting to see the children scolded further. One of them must have seen the game on an old TV program but she couldn't believe they'd tried to get away with holding hands at school. The teacher would likely be calling their parents.

On the corner, just beyond the school and looking utterly out of place in the stucco and cement neighborhood, stood a large, two-story brick house surrounded by a high brick wall. Reaching the gate, Audrey peered in at the house. It had a new-looking metal roof and an old-looking front porch with a white porch swing. The yard was occupied by two massive trees, and beneath them were actual patches of grass. Signs on the gate and the house identified it as Harman Catatonia Center.

Carefully pushing open the gate—it didn't squeak—she walked up a narrow stone walk, climbed the porch steps and stood before the door, wondering if she should knock or just go in. Before she could decide, it swung open, and a tall, Hispanic woman in scrubs came out, nearly bumping into her.

The woman looked her up and down, seeming entirely unsurprised about their near accident.

Sorry, Audrey muttered nervously. She wasn't sure if the woman would recognize her since they hadn't seen each other in a long time, and she felt a little embarrassed about her bad hair and weight gain.

Audrey, the woman said, smiling and wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. After a moment, she pulled back, but she kept her fisted hands on Audrey's shoulders, looking into her face. I haven't seen you since you were eight years old.

Hi, Maria.

Maria's smile grew, but then faded, and she sighed. I have to go. I'm sorry. I wish I...

It's OK, said Audrey.

I’m sorry, Maria said again, and Audrey wasn’t sure if she was talking about having to go or something more.

Maria turned and called through the open door, Hannah, we have a visitor! She turned back to Audrey. Hannah will help you. She'll take you to your brother's room. With a final sigh and a look back, Maria hurried away.

Audrey turned back to the door, but before she could step through the doorway, another woman in scrubs appeared, this one a redhead in her early forties.

She smiled. Hi. She raised her hand and gave a small wave. I'm Hannah.

Audrey returned the gesture, noticing the unusually large, gold wedding ring on Hannah's finger. Hi. I'm Audrey. She cleared her throat. Her anxiousness made it difficult to speak. Um, I'm Andrew's sister.

Hannah nodded, still smiling but with a hint of sadness in her eyes. Of course you are, dear. I see the resemblance.

Audrey had never thought that she and Andrew looked that much alike. He had always been so good looking, so self-assured. He had been those things. She didn't know what she would find now.

Hannah led Audrey through the door and into a large living room, its walls a pale yellow except for the molding around the doors, which was white and intricately carved. The floor was a light-colored hardwood, with one carefully placed area rug. To the left of them a staircase led up to the second floor. Couches and chairs were arranged in the center of the room in front of a small television.

In the midst of this, Audrey was startled to see a man in very simple patient-like garb, hands covered by surgeon’s gloves, lurching like Frankenstein's monster as he walked in place.

That's Kevin, said Hannah, our early riser, getting his morning exercise in.

Audrey stared. He can move?

Hannah nodded serenely. They all move if you guide them. All our patients get some daily exercise.

But he's doing it on his own.

Mmm-hmm, said Hannah. I had to get him started, get him moving in a rhythm. Then he'll keep at it for a while.

Audrey watched, eyes wide, as Kevin continued to lurch in place. They all can do that?

Hannah nodded. More or less. Kevin used to be an athlete, and he likes to move. He's the most active.

After watching Kevin a moment more, Audrey turned and faced her. Swallowing, she said, How does Andrew do?

All right, Hannah answered. She smiled sadly. He can be hard to get going in the mornings. He likes to sleep in.

Audrey laughed, bringing a little unexpected cheer to the somber atmosphere. He always did.

This way, Hannah said with a chuckle. She led her across the room, toward a hallway, but before they reached it, she stopped at an open doorway and peered in.

A pretty teenage girl about Audrey’s age with long, curly, dark hair sat at a dining room table. Beside her was a woman dressed as a patient, her hands, like Kevin’s, in surgical gloves. The girl wore a black T-shirt from a rock concert and pink pajama pants with strawberries on them. She had a sketchpad before her on the table and seemed to be drawing the patient, who was eating oatmeal in a mindless, repetitive way, the spoon held in a closed fist.

Clarity, Hannah called through the doorway. Go get dressed, and wake your father up.

Looking up, the girl smiled toward Audrey and then rolled her eyes. OK. I'm going.

The patient finished her oatmeal, and, not noticing, continued shoveling the empty plastic spoon into her mouth.

It's all gone, Mom, Clarity said, grabbing the woman's gloved hand and taking the spoon from her.

Hannah walked on, but Audrey hesitated in the doorway, staring at Clarity and her catatonic mother. As she watched, Clarity gathered up her mother’s empty bowl, and dropped it and the spoon into a trash can marked biohazard. Clarity turned back, and her eyes met Audrey’s. Audrey flushed and looked away, then quickly followed after Hannah, who led her down a hall and into Andrew's room.

The room was simple and bright with a large window, hospital bed, armchair and nightstand. On top of the nightstand was a picture of the family—Andrew, Audrey, their parents—all smiling, standing in front of the dolphin tank at the aquarium. It was an old picture. Their dad had died several years ago. On the wall was taped a poster of Andrew's band, Benjamy. Andrew had been the front man and lead guitarist, and Audrey had played bass.

Dr. Harman thinks it's important for the patients to have familiar things to look at, said Hannah, things to remind them of their lives.

Audrey nodded mutely, taking it all in, looking everywhere but at the patient in the bed. The room was nice enough, better than what she’d expected, homey, not like a hospital. It smelled clean and lemony without the harsh tang of antiseptic chemicals, but it was strange for Andrew, a perpetually messy person, to be in a place so neat and tidy. She sighed. He wasn’t capable of messiness anymore.

Stealing herself, she looked down at her brother. Seeing him felt like a punch to the gut. In some ways he looked the way she remembered him, with the same large chocolate brown eyes and dark messy hair, but his expression was vacant. His mouth hung open and a stream of drool ran down his chin. He had her brother's face, but Andrew had always charmed people with his quick smile and infectious laugh. With those things gone he didn't seem like the same person. Audrey blinked rapidly, trying not to cry, trying to keep herself together.

Good, said Hannah, looking down at him. You're awake. Your sister's here to see you. Oh no, you've lost a glove.

Audrey's gaze flicked to Andrew's hands, laid out on top of a handmade quilt, one of their mother's creations. One hand wore a surgical glove; the other was naked and pale. It was a small thing, but oddly, Audrey found it a little encouraging. Her brother could still be messy.

Hannah turned to a glove dispenser on the wall. Oops, she said. Empty. I'll get some more. I'll be right back.

Turning to leave, she hesitated, and then turned back to Audrey. Don't touch his hand.

Audrey scoffed.

I know, said Hannah. I'm sorry, but I'd feel terrible if I didn't say anything and something happened.

Audrey shook her head. I know better than to let something happen.

The nurse sighed. Everyone knows better, but no one is perfect. We can all make a mistake.

Audrey nodded.

Hannah launched into a lecture, speaking in a practiced rhythm that made Audrey think the nurse had said these words many times before. None of us knows how susceptible we are to goblin fruit. Some people use it continually and never become catatonic. Others fall into catatonia the first time they try it. You share the genes of a cataleptic, so you may be more vulnerable than most people. You can’t ever forget.

As Hannah continued speaking, Audrey began to picture the things she was saying. She imagined Hannah leaving the room to get the gloves and imagined herself moving up close to her brother, staring down at his uncovered hand.

Traces of goblin fruit leach out through the pores of their hands.

Large drops of bright orange moisture appeared on Andrew’s palm.

You touch him and become contaminated.

She saw herself touch her brother’s hand and then stare at the orange liquid running down her own fingers until it was absorbed into her skin.

You crave the drug.

Now she was pacing back and forth in her apartment, beating her fists in agitation.

You try it.

She approached a dealer on the street and bought the goblin fruit, a large clear capsule filled with the orange liquid. It burst when she shoved it in her mouth and the juice ran down her chin.

Right away you’re addicted, said Hannah. You keep using it.

Audrey saw herself consuming the drug again and again.

Until suddenly a day, or a week, or a month later, it happens.

Audrey shoved a capsule into her mouth one last time, and then began to convulse, falling down and lying in the street.

Your body remains but your mind is gone.

She stopped twitching, and lay still, her eyes wide but unmoving, her mouth hanging open.

Blinking, Audrey looked at the nurse. That’s not going to happen to me.

Of course not, said Hannah. I’ll be right back. She left to get the box of gloves and Audrey stared at Andrew’s empty face, trying not to look at his bare hand. It was all too much for her. Seeing her brother had, amazingly, been even harder than she expected.

When Hannah came back, Audrey hurried out of the room. I have to go, she called as she ran past.

Hannah looked after her, shaking her head sadly. Poor girl.

Putting on gloves herself, she removed Andrew’s remaining glove and picked up the one that had fallen to the floor. Glancing briefly out the open doorway, she turned her back to it, and dropped the gloves into a specimen bag, labeling and sealing it before tucking it into the front pocket of her scrubs. With a second glance out the doorway, she took fresh gloves from the box and put them on Andrew’s hands.

3

I went out the door of the catatonia center dressed in jeans and a tight black T-shirt. My hair was pulled into a ponytail, and I was wearing some makeup—lip gloss, mascara—nothing much, but more than I usually bothered with. Zipping up my jacket and dropping my purple backpack down beside her, I sat on the porch steps next to the girl I'd seen in my house a few minutes before.

Hey. I’m Clarity.

She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve before answering. Audrey.

We sat quietly for a moment, birds chattering and cawing in the trees. A breeze blew, sending leaves swirling around us.

It’s hard, I said. I know.

Audrey looked away, blinking back tears. She cleared her throat. So you live here?

Yeah, I answered, with my dad, Dr. Harman. Hannah works days and then our new nurse, Maria—I guess she's friends with your mom—is here nights. It works out pretty well.

It doesn’t freak you out? said Audrey. Being around all those… She couldn’t say it. Her voice trailed off.

I shook my head. No, but I’m used to it. My mom’s been cataleptic my whole life.

She looked at me. How… she began.

I grimaced. I didn’t exactly like talking about it. Doing drugs in the hospital the same day I was born. Some great mom, huh?

Huh… Audrey said.

I sighed. But to be fair, she couldn’t have known what would happen. She was the first goblin fruit catalepsy in the U.S.

Wow. Audrey picked up a leaf and crushed it in her hand. Andrew knew what could happen, and he did it anyway. She opened her fist, holding the little pieces of leaf in her open palm, letting a few of them blow away. He took it at a party I made him go to. He didn’t even want to be there. She blew on her hand, sending the remaining pieces flying.

I hated the way the families were always blaming themselves. It’s not your fault. It may not have been the first time he took it. They usually don’t go catatonic the first time.

Audrey laughed bitterly. That doesn’t make it better. We were together all the time, and I didn’t even notice that he was using fruit?

I looked down, wanting to kick myself for saying the wrong thing. Your mom's been here a lot. I'm surprised you came by yourself...to see your brother.

It's weird enough around my mom already. I couldn't see him with her here...

The door opened behind us, and Dad came out onto the porch. He looked rumpled and sleepy like he always did in the morning. His dress shirt was a little wrinkled, and a not-yet-tied necktie hung around his neck. Ready, Clara? Noticing Audrey, he stopped short. Oh, hi. I'm Doctor Harman.

We stood up, and I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder. It was full of textbooks and weighed a ton.

Hi. I’m Audrey Ortiz, she said to Dad, brushing some crushed leaves from her pants.

He nodded. Right. Andrew’s sister. Your mom said you'd be stopping by. It's a pleasure to meet you.

You too, sir.

Dad smiled awkwardly. I’ve got to take Clarity to school now. She’s not allowed to drive on her own yet, but I’ll be back in a few minutes if you want to talk about your brother.

No, that’s OK, said Audrey, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Another time. I'll be back. I should have come sooner.

Don't be so hard on yourself, Dad said. Your brother's only been here a couple of weeks. You’ll figure out what works.

She nodded.

Are you getting settled? he asked. Have you started school?

My mom's taking me to get registered today.

I smiled at that. I didn't know Audrey well yet, but I already liked her. I’d heard her address when her mom had registered Andrew, and she lived in an apartment complex about a mile away. We’d go to the same school. Maybe we’d share some classes. Try to get Mrs. Nelson for English, I said. She’s awesome.

OK. She gave a sad smile.

I hope you haven't missed too much, said Dad.

I'm probably OK, she answered. I was doing a homeschooling program while Andrew and I were touring, but now that that's over my mom thinks I should go back to a regular school.

Dad just stared for a second in the blank way he does sometimes and then comprehension dawned, his face lighting up. Oh right! You were in Benjamy. You all were getting a little famous I heard.

You heard of us here in New Mexico?

Well, no, he admitted, looking a little chagrined. Your mother told us about it, but Clarity downloaded your album onto her phone.

He turned and looked at me. What’s that song you like called?

I hesitated, really not wanting to answer that.

Let me guess, Audrey said. The single, ‘First of Many.’

I nodded. Talk about sad and ironic—giving a song that name and going catatonic soon afterward—but it was an awesome song.

Oh, said Dad, sounding uncomfortable.

Audrey kicked at the leaves scattered on the porch. Don’t worry about it. I know it’s ironic. The band’s finished. Andrew wrote all the songs.

You’re a good bass player, I told her.

Audrey shook her head. No, I’m not. Andrew wrote the songs for easy bass parts. He only let me be in the band because I was…I am…his little sister.

I don’t think that’s true, Dad said, chiming in. I’ve heard it. You have talent.

Doesn’t matter. That’s all over now. She walked down the steps. On the walkway, she turned back. I better go...

Come and see me later, Dad said. We’ll talk about your brother.

All right. She walked away up the street.

We got in the car with me in the driver’s seat. Putting on my seatbelt, I turned and gave Dad my best Are you crazy? look. Why did you ever become a psychiatrist? I asked.

I wanted to help people.

I rolled my eyes. But didn’t you know you’d have to talk to them?

He chuckled. I stuck my foot in my mouth there, didn’t I? He shook his head. Honestly, I always preferred the research side of things.

You’re lucky all your patients are zombies, I told him. I started the car, and the song we were just talking about, First of Many, started up with it. It really was a great song. I bobbed my head to the beat as we drove away.

4

Third-period English was my favorite class besides Art, which, due to some very annoying scheduling conflicts, I wasn’t taking this semester. Part of the reason I liked it was the atmosphere. Mrs. Nelson always left the fluorescent lights off and the big windows uncovered, making the lighting a lot less depressing than in the rest of the school. The walls of the room were covered in creative art projects portraying Juliet on her balcony and Piggy from Lord of the Flies and a bunch of scenes from a bunch of other books, too. Also, Mrs. Nelson was less boring than the average teacher. Regardless, I wasn’t paying attention.

I thought about Audrey instead, and how torn up she was about her brother. I lived with tragedy every day, was a little numb to it maybe. All of the patients at the catatonia center were tragedies, my mother included. It sometimes sucked, badly, but I'd never known Mom any other way.

Audrey's situation was different. To be around someone every day, to talk and laugh with him, to think everything was fine, and then to have that person suddenly become one of the walking dead had to be awful.

Clarity…Clarity Harman…Earth to Clarity… Ms. Nelson was staring at me. Glancing around, I realized the rest of the class was, too. Todd Thinks He’s God Williams laughed sneeringly from the back row.

Clarity, Mrs. Nelson said again, What poem do you plan to interpret for your midterm assignment?

"Goblin Market1, I answered right away, by Christina Rossetti."

Mrs. Nelson stared at me for a second before nodding. That’s an ambitious choice. ‘Goblin Market’ is a much longer, more complex poem than students in this class usually choose, but if you’re sure...

I am, I said, and I was. I hadn’t even considered another poem. Goblin Market was the only poem that mattered to me.

OK, Mrs. Nelson said and turned away. Isaac Juarez, what about you?

‘The Cat in the Hat’ by Theodor Geisel, ma’am.

The class laughed.

No Dr. Seuss, Isaac, said Mrs. Nelson.

The door opened, and Audrey walked through it. She looked nervous, and I gave her an encouraging smile as Mrs. Nelson introduced her as a new student. She smiled back and then, looking toward the back of the room, gave an even bigger smile and a small wave. I turned to see who she was looking at and got a sick feeling in my stomach when I saw it was Todd.

Could Audrey be joining the ranks of the Todd worshipers already? He was the worst boy in the world to have a crush on; he was mean, shallow, and completely self-obsessed. Plus, he was a major partier, and I didn't think Audrey needed that sort of thing in her life right now.

When the bell rang about fifteen minutes later, I was glad Todd and his friends left quickly, not giving Audrey a chance at any more contact. I waited while Mrs. Nelson briefly went over the syllabus with her.

Walk with me, I said, smiling brightly. I'll show you the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was like school cafeterias everywhere. The floors were linoleum. The tables were the long, gray, institutional type with attached benches. Posters of food pyramids and talking fruits and vegetables decorated the walls. Along one side was the serving area worked assembly-line-style by a surly cafeteria lady and the students from whatever club wanted to earn some extra cash that week to buy soccer balls or food for needy families or halter tops for unfailingly slutty pep rally dance routines.

As we got our lunch trays, I scanned the room. My friends weren’t there again. Lately, the term friends had become pretty questionable. I knew where they were—getting high in the equipment shed. They’d tried to get me to come a couple of times, but yeah, that wasn’t happening. I lived in a fruit induced catatonia center. I wasn’t interested in drugs, and the fact that my former best friend, Jamie, was dating Todd’s best friend, Pete, a drug dealer, didn’t change that. Quite the opposite. He was an idiot. They were all idiots. So what if he didn’t sell fruit? So what if the pills they took were legal with a prescription? That didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. Anyway, I was glad Todd wasn’t there because I thought I should try to keep Audrey as far away from him as possible. I led her toward the end of a table at the side of the room.

As Audrey sat down, her phone fell out of her pocket and tumbled to the floor, luckily without breaking. She picked it up and set it on the table next to her tray. She was wearing fingerless bicycle-style gloves a lot like mine. Because of the catatonia epidemic, gloves were an essential part of the school's dress code, but it was dumb. Not making hand-to-hand contact with strangers was common sense, but people were way too paranoid about casual contact. The sweat of goblin fruit users, especially the sweat from their palms, contained the chemical in the drug, and if you came in contact with it, you might start to have cravings. But the sweat of catatonia patients also contained the chemical even years after the last time they'd taken it. I'd lived with catatonia patients my whole life, and nothing had ever happened to me. I'd never wanted to try goblin fruit.

What do you listen to? I asked, nodding toward her phone and the pair of ear phones wrapped around it.

Oh a bunch of different stuff, she said, Mostly bands that people have never heard of or bands that are kind of old.

Like what?

I have a lot of Nada Surf on there. I've always loved them.

I laughed. That was clever. ‘Always Love’ is seriously one of the best songs ever.

She smiled. I think so, too.

I asked her if I could see her phone and she nodded, taking a bite of her food.

Scrolling through the songs, I raised my eyebrows. Annie Neilly?

Some of her stuff is cool. She laughed, I was going through a phase, all right?

All right… I said, in a way that let her know I didn’t really believe her, but also that I didn’t really care, and that I thought the whole thing was hilarious. At least I hope that’s how I said it, but it didn’t matter because then I noticed something that floored me. You have The Mountain Goats on here.

Audrey nodded, swallowing.

I was amazed. I thought I was the only person in this entire city who had ever heard of them.

They're an acquired taste in a lot of ways, but the lyrics are amazing.

Yeah, like half the time I have no idea what he’s talking about, I said. He references obscure literature, but trying to figure it out just makes it cooler, and the songs can be really dark, but sometimes it's in a funny way. You feel like you should be depressed, but instead you're laughing.

Like the way life is sometimes. She paused. And sometimes it's just depressing.

I nodded. I was speechless. She had The Mountain Goats on her phone. I had burned a CD of some of their songs and listened to it so much that Jamie had burned it literally with a cigarette lighter.

We ate in silence for a minute while I digested this coincidence, and then I said something about the next band on her playlist, and we spent the rest of the lunch period talking about music. When I looked at my phone and realized the bell was about to ring for fourth period, I groaned because Geometry was all the way across the school. I better get to class, I said. Any more tardies and the office will call my dad.

I’ll walk with you, if you want. She sounded shy.

I smiled reassuringly. Sure.

As we walked across the cafeteria, I saw Todd, back from the equipment shed he and his friends used for drinking or getting high on prescription pills, moving toward me. Pete was next to him with my former best friend, Jamie, holding onto Pete's arm and walking with him. Cafeteria food is rank, Pete was saying.

Todd ignored him, and stopped in front of me, blocking my way.

Hey! Audrey said, her voice friendly and warm.

He ignored her and said in a loud voice, Hey Clarity, I didn’t know you were such an animal lover.

He was high and he was an idiot. I tried to get past him but he moved again to block me.

Is it adopt an elephant day or something? he said, finally looking at Audrey.

Todd! she said, the name almost a gasp. In that single exclamation I heard a depth of shock and pain.

Jamie laughed, a shrill cackling sort of noise. I don't know, Todd, she said. Maybe it's the other way around. Maybe she adopted 'Cataleptic Clare.' That frizzy hair makes more sense on a poodle than on a person.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears; heat rushed through my body. I was angry with Jamie, not just because of what she said about my hair or because of the name she'd called me, a name she'd punched a kid for saying in elementary school, but because of all the vapid, mean things she'd said over the previous months, and especially because she chose a drug dealer, chose Pete, over our friendship. My hands and arms moved on their own. Without thinking or deciding to do it, I threw my lunch tray at her.

Missing the mark, the tray hit Todd instead, splattering peach juice and gravy all over his jacket.

With an angry grunt, he stepped toward me.

I backed up, and he came after me, but then he stopped, stunned as another tray of food hit him in the chest.

Audrey had thrown her tray, too.

You whale, he said, grabbing a fistful of spaghetti off a nearby student's tray. He hurled it at her.

I rushed toward Todd, my fists clenched.

Before I reached him, a loud whistle blew and I stopped short as I saw Mr. Sanchez, the assistant principal, coming toward us, bellowing. What’s going on here? Don’t even think about it, Clarity!

At the same time, I noticed Mrs. Nelson coming toward us, too. She looked angry, but also a little amused, and she winked at me.

Mr. Sanchez marched Audrey, Todd, and me to his office. Mrs. Nelson came too, walking behind us the whole way.

Once there, he sat us in a row in front of his desk and told us he was going to go call our parents, not to say a word while he was gone, and that our eyes better be on our feet. I thought he was overdoing the tough-guy, disciplinarian thing.

While he was gone, Mrs. Nelson just stood there, staring down at us. Only 5 foot 2 inches tall, she could still be pretty intimidating. She looked incredibly stern, and I wondered if I'd just imagined her amused look in the cafeteria.

When Mr. Sanchez came back, he told us that Audrey's and Todd's mothers and my father were on their way.

You called my mom? said Todd.

Yes, I did, said Mr. Sanchez, his tone exasperated. I tried your father's work, but his secretary said that he couldn't be disturbed.

Todd started to protest.

I don’t want to hear it! Mr. Sanchez barked.

Todd backed down and looked sullenly at his feet. I decided I liked Mr. Sanchez's tough act when it was directed at Todd.

Our parents got there quickly.

My eyes widened when I saw who Todd’s mom was. It was Maria, the new nurse at the catatonia center. I hadn't known Todd was half Hispanic, and I certainly had never expected that he could be descended from someone as nice as Maria. The decency gene must have skipped a generation.

Maria and Audrey’s mom hugged as soon as they saw each other. I knew they were old friends, which made me wonder about Todd and Audrey. How well did they know each other? I'd thought they just met today.

Dr. Harman, Maria said, greeting my dad.

Maria, he said. What a surprise. He smiled reassuringly at her, and then looked at Audrey's mom. Mrs. Ortiz, good to see you.

Mrs. Ortiz had light brown hair and blue eyes and she was a large woman, obese even. She had some health problems, though I didn't know the specifics, but she used crutches that hooked