by E. E. Holmes
“Been looking for you everywhere,” Bertie panted, glaring at Savvy. “I’m supposed to be guarding you, remember?”
“Ah, piss off, you tosser,” Savvy grumbled.
Hannah put her hand on the doorknob, and Finn stepped right up behind her.
“Finn, I want to go in there alone,” Hannah said earnestly.
“I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Finn said.
“But she’s never going to trust me if I walk in there with a Caomhnóir. She already thinks everyone here is encouraging her delusions.”
Finn bit his lip.
“What if,” I said, “I let Milo Habitate and I use the connection so that I can see and hear everything that is going on in the room? That way, we can give Hannah the space she needs to talk to Frankie, but we’ll be able to monitor the situation.”
Finn nodded his approval. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he said, with the merest suggestion of a smile.
“Please, Finn. We all know I’m the brains of this operation,” I said breezily.
“What am I, then?” Finn asked.
“You’re the brawn,” I shot back.
“Exactly. Hannah’s the talent, and I’m the style,” Milo said, and then gasped dramatically. “We should get t-shirts made!”
Hannah laughed. “Okay, okay, it’s decided. Now, can you two Habitate so I can go in there, please?”
I turned to Milo. “Come here, lovah,” I said, waggling my eyebrows before closing my eyes.
“Ew,” he said with a roll of his eyes, and stepped forward right into my body.
We took a moment to adjust to the bizarre sensation of it, the sense that my mental space was packed to the exploding point. Then, as quietly as I could, I thought, Everyone here?
Their replies rippled through my head as though I had thought them myself.
Ready, Milo thought.
All set, Hannah added. I’m going in. She turned the knob gently and eased the door open so that she could peek through the gap.
I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on picturing Hannah’s surroundings. After a moment, a bedroom swam into view. It looked just like the bedroom Hannah and I slept in, except the draperies and bedclothes were lavender, and the fireplace was on the opposite side of the room. A girl sat in a chair by the fire staring at the flames with an empty, hollow expression. She was very petite and fair, with long sleek blonde hair and delicate features. As we watched, she raised a slender finger and brushed an errant strand of hair from her face.
Hannah took a deep breath and yanked the door open, leaping inside and slamming it shut behind her.
Frankie leapt up from her chair, startled.
“Who are—” she began, but Hannah shushed her harshly.
“Be quiet!” she hissed, her back still pressed to the door. “They’re going to hear you!”
Frankie obeyed, too startled to argue, and continued to stare at Hannah.
What is she doing? I thought.
No idea, Milo replied. But our girl obviously has something up her sleeve, so let’s just watch and learn.
Hannah pretended to listen at the door for a few moments, then turned back to Frankie, sighing with relief. “I’m supposed to be in my own room, but I slipped out. Celeste is going to be pissed, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. Do you have a cigarette?”
“What?” Frankie asked, still in shock at Hannah’s sudden appearance.
“A cigarette,” Hannah repeated patiently, walking into the room. “Do you have one I could bum? I’ve been out for a week, and I just can’t take it anymore.”
What is she doing? She doesn’t smoke. I wondered.
Yeah, but rich kids always do, Milo said, a laugh in his voice. We used to get spoiled rich kids at New Beginnings all the time, and every one of them smoked like a chimney. It’s like rich kid code for ‘I’m a badass rebel.’ There’s no way she doesn’t… see? What did I tell you?
Frankie had recovered from her surprise and walked over to her nightstand, from which she extracted a package of cigarettes. While I watched Frankie take out two cigarettes and hand one to Hannah, I relayed the details to Savvy and Finn.
“Damn it,” Savvy said through gritted teeth. “You mean to tell me Frankie and I could have been bonding over a fag this entire time?”
“Afraid so,” I said, then tuned back in to Hannah, who was taking her first drag. For someone who didn’t smoke, she certainly knew how to look like she was enjoying herself.
“Thanks,” she told Frankie, who nodded a bit hesitantly while lighting up her own. She was looking at Hannah very warily, unsure whether she was supposed to acknowledge her existence or not.
“Relax,” Hannah said, when she noticed Frankie staring at her. “I’m not a delusion. Although, I’m sure delusions have told you that before. You’ll just have to take my word for it that delusions don’t smoke cigarettes.”
Frankie twitched the corner of her mouth into the barest suggestion of a smile and then went back to her cigarette, still watching Hannah closely.
“How long have they had you here?” Hannah asked. When Frankie didn’t answer right away, Hannah added, “I’ve been here for six months.”
Frankie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? That long? I’ve been here four months. Why haven’t I seen you before?”
Hannah laughed. “Because you never come out of this room.”
Why is she doing this? Why is she lying about how long she’s been here? What’s the point? I asked Milo.
She’s establishing trust. Every kid on the inside has trust issues. You’ve got to show some solidarity for them to open up to you, Milo explained. There’s a whole complicated social order for kids on the psych ward tour, and Hannah knows every inch of it. Trust me, she knows what she’s doing, even if we don’t.
“My name’s Hannah, by the way. Do you want to tell me yours?” Hannah asked.
Frankie hesitated, then said, “Frankie. Frankie York.”
“Nice to meet you, Frankie York. You smoke really smooth cigarettes,” Hannah said with a smile. Frankie did not return the smile. She was still examining Hannah closely. “You can poke me or something, if it will make you feel better,” Hannah said, and she extended her arm slowly, offering it to Frankie. Frankie shook her head.
“I can pretty much tell the difference now,” she said quietly. “Between the real ones and the delusions.”
“Good for you. That usually takes a lot longer to figure out,” Hannah said.
Frankie took a long drag on her cigarette. “You see them, too? The delusions?”
“Yeah, I do,” Hannah said. “I have for practically my whole life.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Imaginary friends were a great cover story for a while, until I outgrew them,” Hannah said. “I’m guessing you haven’t been seeing them for very long. When did it start?”
Frankie tipped a tiny shower of ash over the edge of her chair and nudged it with her toe to make sure it was out. “Not long. A few months.”
“You probably won’t believe me when I tell you this, but you’ll get used to it,” Hannah said.
“I don’t want to get used to it,” Frankie snapped, her face suddenly fierce.
“I don’t blame you,” Hannah said solemnly. “Neither did I.”
Frankie stared at Hannah for a long moment, as though trying to decide if she could trust her. Then she blurted out, “Are they telling you the same thing they’re telling me?”
Hannah smirked. “About what? You’ll have to be a little more specific. So far, the only things I know about you are your name and that you smoke really expensive cigarettes.”
Frankie actually smirked a little. “They’re the same kind my mother smoked. I used to steal them out of her purse sometimes, when I was pissed at her.”
Hannah grinned and took another drag.
Frankie settled back into her seat, a sign that she was relaxing around Hannah. “The people here are telling me that this isn’t
a psychiatric hospital. They’re saying that the delusions aren’t actually delusions: they’re ghosts. And they’ve brought me here because I’ve been chosen to help them.” She laughed a little hysterically. “Is that what they are telling you?”
“Yes,” Hannah said. “They told me the exact same thing. You don’t believe them?”
Frankie shook her head. “No! It’s completely insane. I know what’s happening to me.”
Hannah raised her eyebrows. “You do? Enlighten me.”
Frankie leaned in conspiratorially. “I had a psychotic break. I was under too much pressure at school, and I cracked.”
“Really?” Hannah asked, sounding fascinated. “What makes you so sure?”
“I’m a pre-med student, okay? I didn’t just Google this.” Frankie stood up and jogged over to her nightstand. She opened the drawer and extracted a large file folder bulging with dog-eared packets of papers. She thrust it into Hannah’s hands. “Take a look, if you like. I’m a textbook case of schizophrenia! I’m just the right age. The stress of starting college probably triggered the onset.”
“Interesting,” Hannah said, not even opening the folder. “Did they give you the blood tests and the brain scans to rule out tumors and hallucinogenic drugs?”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “Yes,” she said.
“Did they enroll you in psychotherapy?”
Frankie nodded.
“What kinds of anti-psychotic meds did they start you on? Usually they start with Thorazine, but Haldol is definitely getting more popular.”
Frankie opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I… yeah, Thorazine.”
“How is that working for you?” Hannah asked casually, as though she were asking about the weather.
Frankie shook her head a fraction of an inch back and forth, her eyes filling with tears. “Not good,” she whispered. “It hasn’t stopped anything.”
“It didn’t for me, either,” Hannah said. She began ticking medications off her fingers. “I’ve been on Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, Loxitane, Trilafon, and Mellaril. When none of those worked, they tried some different combinations of Aripiprazole, Clozapine, Lurasidone, and Quetiapine. Every time, the delusions broke through.”
Frankie’s face was fixed in an expression of horror.
Hannah tapped a finger on the folder. “There’s not a thing you could have highlighted in this folder that I haven’t already had explained to me. There’s not a single drug or treatment listed in here that I haven’t tried. I have a gold medal in pointless consumption of anti-psychotic meds.”
Still Frankie said nothing. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“Do you want to know why none of the drugs or therapies worked?” Hannah asked gently.
Frankie shook her head. “No. No, I don’t want to know.”
Hannah smiled sadly. “Neither did I. Because I didn’t want to admit the truth about what was happening to me. And I can see that you don’t either.”
Frankie shook her head. “I’m not like you. My meds are going to work.”
“Are they working right now?” Hannah asked softly. And I felt the tugging that meant she was Calling. Three spirits floated into the room almost at once and waited suspended just above the floor, waiting for further instruction.
Frankie could not stop her eyes from flicking quickly over to them, before staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge their existence. “They will work,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “They will. I just have to find the right combination, and then I can go on with my life as though none of this ever happened.”
“I get it, Frankie,” Hannah said, and the empathy in her voice drew Frankie’s eyes onto her. “I know why you want the medications to work. I used to want that, too. If the medications worked, then I could take control of my life again. I could move forward with all the plans I had for myself. I could not be what I was.”
“What are you?” Frankie whispered.
“I’m the same as you. I’m a Durupinen,” Hannah said.
“No,” Frankie said. “No, I’m not.”
“You are. And it doesn’t have to mean the end of everything else,” Hannah said, a little more forcefully.
Frankie’s bottom lip trembled but she bit it fiercely to stop it. “Stop. I’m not listening to that. I have plans. I’m going to accomplish them. I will not accept anything standing in my way.”
She’s pushing too hard, I thought.
She’s pushing just right, Milo insisted.
“What’s happening, then?” Savvy asked me.
I relayed the conversation to Savvy in whispered installments. She shook her head. “She’s walking right into book-throwing territory now,” Savvy said. “Best tell her to get ready to duck and cover.”
“Do I need to get in there?” Finn asked sharply.
“Take it down a peg, Finn,” I replied. “She’s still in control of the situation. Now everyone shut up so Milo and I can concentrate.”
I focused back in on Hannah, who was still sitting, calm as could be, in the chair opposite Frankie, cigarette dangling casually from her hand. I’m not sure if I’d ever appreciated just how much of a casual badass she really was. I would never be that cool.
Girl, neither will I, Milo agreed, picking up on the thought.
“What is your plan?” Hannah was asking Frankie. “Tell me your plan. What do you want more than anything?”
Frankie did not answer at first. It was as though she was trying to decide if sharing this information was going to cost her something. She seemed to decide that it wouldn’t. “To be a cardiovascular surgeon.” There was a defiant note in her voice, as though daring Hannah to scoff.
Hannah, of course, did not. “That’s very admirable. Why do you want to do that?”
“Because it’s hard. Because it takes skill. Because so few people can accomplish it,” Frankie said, raising her chin.
“Is that all?” Hannah prompted.
Frankie shrugged. “I want to help people.”
Hannah smiled. “That’s really wonderful. How long have you worked toward that goal?”
“Practically my whole life,” Frankie said. “I’ve wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember.”
“So, why are you giving up on it?” Hannah asked.
Frankie glared at her. “Giving up? Who’s giving up? Haven’t you been listening? I’m fighting for it.”
Hannah shook her head. “Every day you keep yourself locked up in this room, avoiding reality, that dream is going to slip further and further away from you.”
Frankie’s eyes grew bright, but her voice was still angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I really do,” Hannah said. She took one last drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out on the bottom of her shoe. “I’m going to tell you something right now, and you aren’t going to like it at first, but hear me out. I spent years and years going back and forth. Some days I believed the spirits were real. Other days I took my meds and tried to ignore them, hoping against hope that they would go away if I just dulled my senses enough. Sometimes it almost worked, but never for long.”
Frankie sagged in her seat, as though Hannah’s words had deflated her.
“But not anymore,” Hannah said, and she rose from her seat and sat herself beside Frankie on the settee. Frankie did not move away from her, which I took to be a very good sign. “I’ve accepted what I am, and I’ve learned everything I can about it. I do what I’m supposed to do; lunar Crossings and helping spirits out when they really need me. But it doesn’t consume my life anymore. I can put protection up around any room I’m in, so that they can’t bother me when I really need some time to myself. I’ve learned to feel them coming before I see them, so that they rarely surprise me anymore. And best of all, I’m helping people. They might not be alive anymore, but they are still human souls in desperate need of help, and I am one of the very few who can truly give them what they need.”
Frankie began
to sniffle. We were watching her resistance crumble as Hannah dismantled it, brick by stubborn brick.
Hannah pressed her advantage and continued. “I want to help people, too—kids who have been abused by the system, like I was. I’m doing it. I’m in school. I’m earning my master’s degree in social work. I might even go to law school. But being a Durupinen is not preventing me from pursuing any of those goals. It does… complicate things, on occasion. But learning how to deal with those occasions? It is a skill. It is a craft. It’s something that only a handful of people in the world can do. That’s something I think you can appreciate.”
Frankie’s sniffles had dissolved into great, heaving sobs now. Very slowly and carefully, Hannah scooted herself across the settee and wrapped her arms around Frankie. Frankie fell into them, sobbing still harder.
“Just imagine,” Hannah whispered. “Just imagine when you become that surgeon, because I know you will. And just imagine when you can save a patient’s life, and how incredible that will feel. And then realize that you will be able to help them whether you can save their lives or not.”
Frankie’s voice, muffled with tears against the sleeve of Hannah’s sweater, rose to answer her. “That w-would be p-pretty incredible,” she stammered.
“The teachers here will guide you every step of the way,” Hannah went on, planting a gentle kiss on the top of Frankie’s head. “There are hundreds of Durupinen here from all over the UK and other countries, too, and nearly every one of them has a job, and a family, and a life apart from her role as a Durupinen. Right now, you’ve given the control of your life over to the spirits. But they aren’t going away, so now it’s time to take it back.”
Frankie did not respond, though her crying quieted.
“Let me ask you this: are you a girl who things happen to, or are you a girl who makes things happen?” Hannah asked.
Frankie laughed—actually laughed—and looked up at Hannah with a red blotchy face. “I make things happen,” she said. “I always have.”
Hannah smiled down at her. “That’s what I thought.”
She is going to be the best social worker ever. Milo’s pride came thrumming across the surface of my brain.