Nice—mean—calm—freaked—the result is the same. Ever since Paloma called, I’ve tried them all, and the verdict hasn’t changed.
“It’s not like I was flooded with options.” Jennika looks at me, her gaze narrowed in a way I know all too well. “I could either send you to stay with your grandmother, or lock you away in some mental institution for an undetermined amount of time, where those doctors you hate so much promise to keep you in a permanently drugged state until they can come up with a better plan. And yeah, maybe you’re right, maybe I barely know Paloma, but as I’ve already told you, your father loved her dearly, never once said a bad word about her, and at least for the moment anyway, I’m afraid his endorsement will have to suffice. If it turns out she can’t help, then we’ll go to plan B. But, in the meantime, we all agreed this was the best way to proceed. Besides, Paloma promised to let me know right away whether or not she can help you.”
“And you trust her?” My lip curls to a sneer. “You trust some woman you don’t even know? You trust her to tell you the truth, to not drug me—or—or do something worse? And what about the guy she’s sent to meet us? You’re just going to hand me over to some creepy old man you’ve never even met? What if he’s a pervert or a serial killer—or both ?”
The accusation hangs heavy between us, a barrier that cannot be breached—or at least that’s what I think until she says, “I trust you .” And when she looks at me, my throat goes so lumpy I can’t speak. “I trust that what you see and experience is all too real for you, even if I can’t see or understand it myself. But, Daire, we’ve been given a chance, an opportunity to help you in a nonclinical, all-natural kind of way, and I feel we have to at least give it a go. It kills me to sit back and watch you suffer like this. As your mother, I should be able to help you, spare you the pain you’re going through, and yet everything I’ve done so far, every choice I’ve made, only seems to make you feel even worse than before. So yeah, I think we have to at least give Paloma a chance—see what she can do. You may not know her, but she is your grandmother. And just so you know, I would never just drop you off and hand you over to some creepy, old, serial killer, pervert as you claim. He happens to be Paloma’s close and trusted friend. He’s also a well-respected, much-sought-after veterinarian. I did Google him, you know.”
“Oh, so you Googled him? Oh, well, that changes everything then, doesn’t it? What could I possibly worry about now that I know you’ve conducted such a thorough Internet search?” I roll my eyes, shake my head, and gaze out the window again, adding, “As for my dad—if Grandma’s so great, then why’d he leave home at sixteen? Hunh? Do you have an excuse for that too?” I frown. Slide a finger under my bandage where I pick at the thick trail of scabs on my arm, waiting to see how she’ll wiggle out of that one.
“For your information, Django wasn’t running from her —he was running from what he considered to be a stifling life in a very small town.”
“ A stifling life in a very small town? ” I repeat the words back to her, my voice loaded with sarcasm. “Charming, Jennika, seriously charming.” I huff under my breath, push my hair off my face. “Do you even listen to the things you say? You actually sound happy about condemning me to live in the same stifling Siberia my dad couldn’t wait to escape.”
“So you’d prefer the institution? Is that what you’re saying?” She looks right at me, her green eyes narrowed on mine, but I refuse to respond. “Besides,” she continues, pushing her pink strip of hair off her forehead and tucking it behind her multipierced ear. “According to you, Paloma’s already helped. According to you, you’ve been feeling much better since we got you off the drugs and onto the herbs, and you