Sample #1
Saturday August 27
Dr. Rob’s office smells like stale candy and coffee. It’s not too comforting, and in fact smells like the teacher’s office we were never supposed to be in, but snuck into anyway. When my parents decided to send me to a shrink, I imagined a woman with a long shawl and chunky jewelry, with an office of soft bean bag chairs that smelled like lavender and chamomile tea. Instead, I get Dr. Rob, a “doctor” who prefers being called by his first name, who looks less like a shrink and more like an ex Hell’s Angel. His long, wiry beard and mustache end on his chest, tied with a teeny red rubber band. He wears a button down and khakis, but I can see the tattoos poking out everywhere, most notably the pin up lady winking at me from under his right sleeve. He’s an odd guy. But he came highly recommended by a lot of the other parents at school. Mom never gave two shits about the other parents at school until recently, and now she pretends she’s been close with all of them since we were in elementary school. It’s fake and annoying and stupid.
Anyway, Dr. Rob is making me do this exercise. Apparently there are a lot of things I haven’t said to you, and he’s challenged me to write to you all my honest thoughts, no filter. Dad must have told him that I like writing or something. Mom still thinks I like dolls. Which is dumb since I start high school this week.
Dr. Rob didn’t watch me write. He fiddled with his phone, leaned back with his legs crossed. A bright red heart pokes through his pant leg.
I’m already tired of this.
Sample #2
“Don’t make a sound,” a disembodied voice said. Cara gasped and could feel all the blood drain from her body. She stared straight above her at the dark canvas, only seeing a shadow of the figure above her.
“Just be quiet, okay?” the voice said again. This time, Cara recognized it. They took their hand away from her mouth, and somewhere close was a clanking of glass. The hand reappeared, right in front of her face, this time waving two whiskey nips in between their long fingers. “Don’t wake the newbie. Come on, get up.”
Slowly lifting from her stiff bed, Cara could now see Keith’s twinkling eyes on hers, a mischievous grin lit by dim moonlight. He winked and ducked out of the tent. Cara put on a jean jacket, shoes, and quickly brushed her hair before following him.
Out in the yard between the tents, the group of senior counselors in their pajamas and jackets were huddled around, being as quiet as possible. Jacky rushed to Cara, who was still regaining the blood back to her face.
“Keith gave you a little scare, huh?” Jacky whispered. “Yeah, it wasn’t the greatest idea. I was about to scream rape.”
“Yeah, for real,” Emma joined, her face not white, but a bit flush.
“At least Jacky didn’t wake you,” Tim said. He had his hands in his pockets and sweatpants on. He looked freezing, though it couldn’t have been below sixty-five. “She whispered in my ear, ‘Wake up, Timmy!’ in this creepy, possessed-doll voice. I nearly pissed myself.”
“Jesus Christ, keep it down,” Sarah hissed. She looked as though she never went to sleep. Make up on, hair quaffed, no bags under her eyes. Sarah motioned towards the wooded trail with an unlit Marlboro. “Let’s go already.”
Cara followed Keith and Sarah, who led the group of the six senior counselors into the woods.
“Where are we going?” Cara whispered, checking around both shoulders to make sure nobody else could see them. There was a single light on in the Walker house, two football fields away.
“I don’t know,” Emma responded. “If they find out though, we could get kicked out.”
Keith turned around and tipped his cowboy hat. “That’s the fun of it, isn’t it?”
Emma flushed again.
Sample #3
Saturday September 2
In our morning session, Dr. Rob wanted to talk to me about Mom. he asked questions like:
What do you talk to your mom about?
What do you do for fun together?
… Sometimes, are you a little scared of her?
If I were honest, I would have answered:
Superficial things. Things that don’t matter.
Not much. I go with her to buy her purses.
Sometimes?
Instead, I answered:
Whatever. Anything.
Stuff. Shopping.
No. Of course not.
And Dr. Rob gave me this little smile as if to tell me I’d trust him with the real answers one day soon.
Later that afternoon, Suze called my house phone. She asked if I wanted to hang out with her and the “art gang” at her house later. I told her that I was unfortunately grounded, maybe another time.
I wondered what they were doing, though.