Spin by Catherine McKenzie Read Free Book Online Page A

or Matt Nathanson concert, this says things like detox (Days One to Three), learning the steps (Day Four), coping
skills (more days than I can count), visiting
day, and (oh, please God, no) family
therapy.
    I toss the schedule onto the bedside table. Christ,
I’m already bored. How am I going to get through the next three days? Maybe the
pills will help pass the time? I wonder when they’re going to kick in. I guess I
feel a little sleepy. Maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt.
    I take off my slippers and climb under the covers,
closing my eyes to block out the sun seeping through the curtains. In a few
minutes, I can feel myself slipping away, the drugs taking effect.
    Sorry, Dad.

Chapter 4
    Hi, Katie!
    I sleep
right through the rest of the day and into the next morning. When I finally wake
up, there’s still light slipping past the curtains, but now it’s a pale, morning
light.
    As I open my eyes, I feel fuzzy from the drugs and
hungover from the Jameson and Cokes. I need to drink a huge glass of water, to
pee, and to puke my guts out. Maybe not in that order.
    I eye the kidney pan on the dresser. Absolutely
not. I will not puke into something that belongs in
a hospital or an old folks’ home!
    I pull back the covers and stagger down the hall,
trying to remember which door Carol said leads to the bathroom. The second
handle I try is the right one.
    Please let me finish peeing before I puke. Please
let me finish peeing before I puke. Please let me . . . not quite
the Serenity Prayer, but it works. The clenched feeling in my gut recedes and
eventually passes.
    I find an empty glass by the sink, still in its
hotel-like paper wrapping, and fill it with tap water. The first sip feels like
heaven in my cotton-wool mouth, and I drink and drink, refilling the glass again
and again. When I’m sure I can safely leave the bathroom, I retrieve my
toiletries and fresh clothes from my suitcase. After a shower and a good teeth
brushing I feel almost human. Well, OK, a human with a wicked hangover, but this
too shall pass.
    What I could really use is the hair of the dog, but
something tells me they let dogs bite you around here.
    When I get back to my room, I realize it’s only
6:40, presumably in the morning. I’ve got a lot of time to kill.
    Might as well get to work.
    I take the new journal I purchased at the airport
out of my bag and start a fake entry that’s really notes on what I’ve seen and
heard up to now. All the puking and prodding will make good atmosphere for my
article.
    When I’ve captured every sight, sound, and smell I
can remember, I pull out a soft case from my bag that contains the iTouch Bob
gave me as a way to communicate with him while I’m undercover.
    “There aren’t any cell phones allowed,” he said,
handing me a matte black box. “Fill it up with music, make it look like your
own.”
    I felt a moment of panic. A whole month, maybe
more, without texting? My friends were going to think I’m dead.
    “Is email forbidden too?”
    “That’s right.”
    No cell phones, no email. Where are they sending
me?
    “Sounds strict.”
    “It’s not one of those chi-chi spa places.”
    Damn. I was already imagining myself immersed in a
mud bath.
    “So, how am I going to use this?”
    “You’re going to hack into their Wi-Fi
network.”
    “I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to do
that.”
    He handed me a slim envelope. “The instructions
you’ll need are in here. You should memorize them tonight.”
    I opened it and read them quickly. They looked
simple enough for me to follow.
    “How did you get the password to their system?”
    He looked smug. “We have our ways.”
    I squash a pillow behind my back and cross my legs
into a weak lotus position. I start up the iTouch, hoping the Jameson and Cokes
didn’t erase the memorized instructions. Thankfully, Apple has made breaking
into someone’s poorly protected Wi-Fi network a piece of cake, and I’m soon
entering the Oasis’s password and connecting to