STARGIRL

70. Closer

In the silence, all she could hear was the ticking coming from the round analog clock on the wall. She watched the second hand moving round and round in that circular motion.

Dr. Mendoza cleared her throat, "Anything else?"

Arabella glanced at her and then back at the clock, "No."

Dr. Mendoza, who was sitting across from her in a brown leather chair, crossed her leg over the other and carefully began to look through Arabella's dossier.

"Are you taking your medicine?" Dr. Mendoza asked.

She turned toward her and slowly nodded her head, "I'm trying. Sometimes, I forget."

"You know," Dr. Mendoza closed the dossier and set it down on the end table beside her, "Medication and therapy go hand in hand."

"I know. You and Li keep reminding me," Arabella replied, obviously annoyed.

Dr. Mendoza kept a straight face. She was a middle-aged woman who was graceful in demeanor but direct with her words. There would be no confusion so long as she was working with her clients.

However, silence befell them again and only the ticking noise of the analog clock filled the room.

"Sometimes, nothing feels real," Arabella said softly, entranced by the sound of the clock's ticking, "None of it makes sense."

Dr. Mendoza picked the leather bound dossier up from its place on the end table and carefully watched as Arabella arose from her seat.

Arabella grabbed her backpack off the floor and put it on, "Sorry. I wanna go."

Dr. Mendoza frowned, "We still have 20 minutes left. I think we should talk a little more."

Arabella stared at the doctor with a determined look on her face, "I just need to go. I don't feel comfortable."

"How about," Dr. Mendoza carried on, "You just hang on here until your guardian picks you up."

Arabella got up and put her backpack on, "I can't. I have to go."

"Arabella," Dr. Mendoza called out as Arabella dashed from the room.

The teenager left the behavioral health clinic and wandered for hours on the rainy street. Her bright yellow raincoat repelled the soft droplets that were pelting her. Arabella ended up at the public library where she found a little nook and settled down to read up on post traumatic stress disorder.

—

"Where have you been?" Wendy asked as Arabella strolled in through the front door. Arabella closed the door behind her and removed her wet shoes to leave by the door.

Wendy's hands were resting on her hips. She was in her blue terrycloth bath robe, "It's a quarter 'till midnight. You have school tomorrow."

"Lost track of time. My phone died."

"Where were you? I was worried sick."

Arabella took her raincoat off next and hung it up, "After my appointment. I went to the library then I went to a poetry slam at a coffee shop. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?" Wendy repeated, "The big deal is that I'm in charge of you. Bella, do you not think I don't worry about you?"

"You took me in out of guilt," Arabella responded as she walked past her and toward the stairs, "Otherwise, you've never given a fuck about me. So don't act like you do now."

Wendy gasped like she was a cartoon character. She stared at Arabella in disbelief, "No. You're not going upstairs, we are going to talk about this right now."