Zelah Green by Vanessa Curtis Read Free Book Online Page A

side.
    ‘If it makes you feel better, go and wipe it off,’ she says.
    I get up, go over to the wall, wipe off the offending smudge and wrap the dirty tissues in a clean one.
    The Doc waits until I’m settled back on to my sheet of paper and then leans forward in her chair so that I can see all the tiny crinkles around her eyes.
    ‘Zelah,’ she says. ‘Do you ever wish that youcould be free of your rituals?’
    I consider this for a moment but it’s like she’s asking whether aliens are likely to land in a shopping centre and kit themselves out in TopShop. It’s not something I’ve ever really thought about in any great detail. I mean – my rituals are just part of my life. They’ll be there forever. Won’t they?
    ‘Not necessarily,’ says The Doc.
    I’ve said the last part out loud. ‘If you want,’ she says, ‘we can work on ways together to get rid of them.’
    I feel that great whooshing sense of panic again, like the floorboards have been pulled up under my feet, the ceiling is about to splinter into dust and plaster and I’m going to be sucked up through the open roof into a great, dark, hostile sky.
    ‘Maybe I don’t want to get rid of them,’ I say. My voice has gone hoarse and my breath comesout in funny little jerks. I fold my arms tight across my chest in an effort to stop shaking.
    I want to go and jump, thousands and thousands of good jumps, until I feel better. My body is itching to run to the stairs.
    The Doc is still smiling. A flicker of anger passes through me. Why is she always smiling? Doesn’t anything ever rile her? Like the fact that I’m shitting myself about being in therapy, for starters?
    ‘I didn’t ask to come here,’ I manage, through tight lips. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ I add. ‘Until I came here I coped with everything fine.’
    The Doc is still nodding, smiling.
    ‘Perhaps we’ll draw this session to a close,’ she says. ‘I can see you’ve had enough.’
    I’m standing up now.
    ‘You’re right there,’ I say. It comes out as a bitter, hissing spit of anger. ‘I’ve had enough ofthis place already. You and those screwed-up kids.’
    I fling open the door until it bangs against the wall and leaves another black mark, but I’m past caring. For all I know, the Doc might have put the first smudge there on purpose. Testing me. Finding out how bad my ‘little problem’ really was. The only problem I really have is being stuck in this place. I have to get out.
    I make a plan to contact Heather and ask her to come and get me.
    I storm out of the office and run up the tiny flight of stairs to my attic room.
    Then I lie face down on a towel on my bed and howl.
    *
    I must have fallen asleep because I wake up in a pile of warm dribble with a mouthful of wet cotton.
    Someone is saying my name in a low voice.
    ‘Mum?’ I say, still half asleep.
    I struggle into a sitting position. My head feels clogged and heavy, as if I’ve been asleep for hours.
    At first I can’t see anyone in the room.
    She’s sitting over by the door, her back up against it.
    Caro.

Chapter Nine
    ‘O CD, you can snore for England,’ she says. Her sleeves are pulled down over her skinny wrists and her black eyeliner is more pronounced than ever.
    ‘It’s you,’ I say. Stupid. Of course it’s her. It couldn’t really be anyone else, not with that foul mouth, blonde hair and grumpy expression.
    Caro gets up.
    She sits on the edge of my bed and looks down at her narrow fingers with their diamond-studded black nails and then into my hot, plump, red-cheeked face.
    I’m wary of her, remembering what I sawearlier. I need to wash my hands and face, but I don’t want to do my rituals in front of this girl.
    ‘So, OCD,’ she says, ‘why didn’t you tell the Doc what you saw me doing?’
    I shrug.
    ‘Not my business,’ I say. ‘All I want to do is get out of this place.’
    The girl laughs, a husky sound that turns into a smoker’s cough.
    ‘Yeah, right,’ she says.