Hall 12

Clue One (REVISED)

"I want some chocolate."

Blue looks at me with furrowed brows, arm thrown over me. "What? You hate eating sugar."

I shrug, pushing my bangs out of my face and resting my head on her shoulder. The rest of the Island is still in the lunch line, so our PDA has yet to be called out.

"It sounds good, I don't know. The meds are making me hungry all the time. Do you think they'd give me a Reese's cup if I pretended to pass out?" I ask, and Blue laughs lightly.

"I mean, I'm sure they wouldn't deny you one," she says. "Want me to ask the lunch lady if they have any of that cake from yesterday? It was decent, lots of sugar though."

I hum, thinking for a second. "No, it's fine. I'd rather have a brownie."

"I'll make you brownies when we get out of here," Blue murmurs into my hair, barely above a whisper. It's the first time she's talked about getting out of Helmuth's. She always joked that they'd never release a monster like her into the real world, but something in my stomach stirs when I think of us starting a life outside if this asylum.

"Yo, Shakey," Heroin says when he arrives at the table, setting his tray down. "They want you at the lunch line, said it's something about the ED unit."

I groan, burying my face into Blue's neck and huffing. She smells like citrus and lemon and a drug I'll never stop being addicted to. "Did you guys snitch on me about the whole eating thing? I told you all I'd start eating more when-"

"When you lost too much weight," Blue finishes, smiling smugly. "We know. None of us snitched. Just go see what they want, I'll keep your seat warm."

She kisses my cheek and pinches my butt when I get up, sending me on my way.

I've never been to the lunch line, since I never eat when everyone else does, so it's a new experience. People are lined up on two sides, one to get a plate full of what looks like pizza, and the other to get a salad. I go through the salad line and grab a piece of the cake Blue mentioned.

I have never seen a lunch administrator, so I have to scan around quite a bit just to find someone to talk to. Once I get to a someone who looks like a lunch police officer, I set my plate down on the table next to them and wave hello.

"I was told that someone needed me? Is that...do you still...?" I stutter, anxiety taking my will to form words. I'm an idiot. "Sorry, I just. I don't know. Someone said that-"

"You are required to eat now, Ms. Puckett," the officer, a tall man with broad shoulders and a small scar above his right eye, informs me. How does he know my name? "Nurse Kathy orders everyone in the ED unit to have at least two of the three provided meals."

The ED (Eating Disorder) unit is not a big one. Why would Kathy worry? Is she just being a bitch? The entire situation has suspicion written all over it.

"Oh. Well. Okay. I guess I'll start doing then that. Thank you? I'm sorry."

The officer grunts and wave his hand at me, as if he was dismissing my presence. I pick up my tray and the anxiety eventually guides me away from him, cowering under the pressure of his authority.

That was...weird. New. I've never seen him before.

The Island is chatting mindlessly when I show up again, sitting next to Blue and placing my salad on the table. I pay little attention to it.

"Would you rather snort an 8 ball, or snort five xannie bars in one breath?" Cuts asks, fingers tapping rapidly. He's high and we all know it.

Smokey shrugs. "I'm not into coke, so probably xans. Blue?"

"Both, why the fuck not. Heroin?"

"Coke. Shakey?"

"Xanax. I miss them," I say wistfully, setting my elbows on my salad tray. Suddenly, I feel someone stab me. I pick my arm up and look down, only to see an envelope.

"What's that?" Blue asks, quiet so that no one else would hear. I can barely make out an answer before she grabs the envelope and tears it open. Typical, impatient Blue.

There's a letter in it, small and printed on crisp white paper. Blue unfolds it, scans it over, and I slowly start to notice her knuckles whitening. Is she gripping it that hard?

"Blue?"

She doesn't answer.

"Baby," I mumble, grabbing the paper from her grasp and replacing it with my left hand, letting her hold and squeeze it as I read the letter.

And what it says only makes me more nervous.

Allison,

Clue One. Sometimes, nicknames aren't for addicts. Choose your friends wisely.

Hall 20.