page, committed me. My childhood sailed away with the looping trails of her cursive.
Part II
The Unit
Chapter 12
Meeting the girls Kristina finds me transparent Life with pharmaceuticals
The pleasures of telepathy
Jump-in-the-Lake Jackie
W hile I slept, they transported me to another wing, in another building altogether. I awoke in a steel bed behind a white curtain, my ankles and wrists freed from the restraints. I pushed back the drapes and found myself facing a wall of windows on an upper floor. Through the windows I saw a green, shimmering lawn and treetops. I thought of my night in the woods, the excitement of riding with Conor. The idea that I might never walk through the prairie, never wait for Horace by the pond, and never see Conor again seemed like a terrible loss. Something awful had happened to me, and yet the narcotics allowed only a vague recognition of it. I couldn’t feel it.
I slowly sat up, my head spinning, and pulled back the other half of the curtain. The bed beside mine was empty. The floor was gray linoleum, the walls mint-green cinderblock, like the walls of the Academy’s gymnasium. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t seeing double. The sight of three doors with metal knobs reassured me. The middle one turned, and Florence rushed in, reeking of Jean Naté and cigarettes.
“Atta girl, Penny. Up and at ‘em. First, your meds. Then a little activity.”
I dropped my feet to the cold floor, and she handed me a paper cup and a small round pill with a V etched out of the center. I popped it in my mouth and chased it with water. I stood up, not feeling anything, then let Florence lead me down a long hall. She held my elbow, chattering about some token system. We passed a locked and glassed-in bulletin board in the hallway, and she pointed out the brown construction-paper cones, labeled with a bunch of girls’ names, with a tower of scoops stapled above.
“We’ll getcha a cone, I guess,” Florence said. “This is the new girl Peggy’s big idea. I dunno if it works. I think she doesn’t want the doctors to be the only ones giving out the privileges. Got a point. They’re never around anyway. How it works is, if you earn enough scoops, we give you passes for day trips, phone calls, that kinda stuff.”
“How do you earn them?”
“By being good. There’s a list of criteria at the end of the hall.” We turned the corner and entered a large bright room. “This is the Day Room,” Florence said. “Time for you to meet the other girls.”
The Day Room had orange vinyl chairs and turquoise couches. Sunlight poured through the blinds and shone on the bare floors. A TV blared. The other girls were dressed in everyday clothes, except for one girl, who wore two gowns at once: one tied at front, the other tied at back. The air-conditioning made my arm hair stand on end, and I was surprised to look down and see myself dressed in jean shorts and a striped tank top. Mother must have packed a bag for me. I was still too susceptible to fantasy to believe any of this was real. Not the stringy-haired girl pawing the window with an open hand. (“That’s Maria,” Florence said.) Not the double-gowned girl with the bloated face and messy ponytail, staring at a set-up chessboard and talking quietly to the empty metal chair across from her. (“That’s Alice,” Florence said.) It was some mad tea party of misfit girls. A couple others had what I later called the Mona Lisa Thorazine smile. To block out the grimness of the scene, I tried to focus on Conor, to replay every moment of our encounter so I wouldn’t forget the feel of his arms, the galloping horse, the scent of the woods at night. I closed my eyes and held fast to the floor.
“Penny.” Florence shook my arm. “This is your roommate. Kristina.”
The girl lay on the couch with her feet on the arms, watching Gilligan’s Island . She wore white cable-stitch knee socks folded below her scabbed knees, and a long second toe with chipped red
Part II
The Unit
Chapter 12
Meeting the girls Kristina finds me transparent Life with pharmaceuticals
The pleasures of telepathy
Jump-in-the-Lake Jackie
W hile I slept, they transported me to another wing, in another building altogether. I awoke in a steel bed behind a white curtain, my ankles and wrists freed from the restraints. I pushed back the drapes and found myself facing a wall of windows on an upper floor. Through the windows I saw a green, shimmering lawn and treetops. I thought of my night in the woods, the excitement of riding with Conor. The idea that I might never walk through the prairie, never wait for Horace by the pond, and never see Conor again seemed like a terrible loss. Something awful had happened to me, and yet the narcotics allowed only a vague recognition of it. I couldn’t feel it.
I slowly sat up, my head spinning, and pulled back the other half of the curtain. The bed beside mine was empty. The floor was gray linoleum, the walls mint-green cinderblock, like the walls of the Academy’s gymnasium. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t seeing double. The sight of three doors with metal knobs reassured me. The middle one turned, and Florence rushed in, reeking of Jean Naté and cigarettes.
“Atta girl, Penny. Up and at ‘em. First, your meds. Then a little activity.”
I dropped my feet to the cold floor, and she handed me a paper cup and a small round pill with a V etched out of the center. I popped it in my mouth and chased it with water. I stood up, not feeling anything, then let Florence lead me down a long hall. She held my elbow, chattering about some token system. We passed a locked and glassed-in bulletin board in the hallway, and she pointed out the brown construction-paper cones, labeled with a bunch of girls’ names, with a tower of scoops stapled above.
“We’ll getcha a cone, I guess,” Florence said. “This is the new girl Peggy’s big idea. I dunno if it works. I think she doesn’t want the doctors to be the only ones giving out the privileges. Got a point. They’re never around anyway. How it works is, if you earn enough scoops, we give you passes for day trips, phone calls, that kinda stuff.”
“How do you earn them?”
“By being good. There’s a list of criteria at the end of the hall.” We turned the corner and entered a large bright room. “This is the Day Room,” Florence said. “Time for you to meet the other girls.”
The Day Room had orange vinyl chairs and turquoise couches. Sunlight poured through the blinds and shone on the bare floors. A TV blared. The other girls were dressed in everyday clothes, except for one girl, who wore two gowns at once: one tied at front, the other tied at back. The air-conditioning made my arm hair stand on end, and I was surprised to look down and see myself dressed in jean shorts and a striped tank top. Mother must have packed a bag for me. I was still too susceptible to fantasy to believe any of this was real. Not the stringy-haired girl pawing the window with an open hand. (“That’s Maria,” Florence said.) Not the double-gowned girl with the bloated face and messy ponytail, staring at a set-up chessboard and talking quietly to the empty metal chair across from her. (“That’s Alice,” Florence said.) It was some mad tea party of misfit girls. A couple others had what I later called the Mona Lisa Thorazine smile. To block out the grimness of the scene, I tried to focus on Conor, to replay every moment of our encounter so I wouldn’t forget the feel of his arms, the galloping horse, the scent of the woods at night. I closed my eyes and held fast to the floor.
“Penny.” Florence shook my arm. “This is your roommate. Kristina.”
The girl lay on the couch with her feet on the arms, watching Gilligan’s Island . She wore white cable-stitch knee socks folded below her scabbed knees, and a long second toe with chipped red
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