Four Realizations

chapter five: paper planes

d e r e k

I've always hated change.

It's not even the drastic changes. When I was little, my mom used to take me to the hairdresser, and the stylist used to always ask if I wanted something different. I remember clutching my hair and shaking my head, shooting down the offer within seconds. I didn't like the idea of my hair changing. What if tomorrow I hate it? I'd be stuck with it, and I wouldn't know what to do, but in the end there wouldn't be anything I could do.

It's not just hair- I didn't repaint the walls of my room until I was ten because I was afraid that maybe the new colour wouldn't be good for my sleep. It's not that I'm a control freak- I just like the familiar and comfortable. That's probably why when curfew in the clinic came, I find myself struggling to get rest. I keep tossing back and forth, throwing the sheets on and off, and adjusting the pillow. After thirty minutes of failure, I accept that I'm never going to get comfortable, and begin to pace the room.

The door opens slowly, and Danny walks in, a shy smile on his face. He greets me with a nod of his head, saying, "Hey, newbie."

"Hi," I respond quietly, rubbing my eyes to keep my lids from falling. I feel too tired to work up the effort to keep up a conversation.

Danny strides inside, throwing off his shirt and stretching his arms over his head. As he does, I notice ink on the bottom of his rib cage- something I hadn't noticed before- but before I can see exactly what it is, he's turned away from me.

"You're late," I state plainly, my voice feeble. I try not to meet his gaze- it makes me feel pressured.

"I was talking with my sister," he tells me, throwing on a shirt and sitting down on his bed.

"Your sister's here too? What's her name?"

"Samantha White," he says. My heart skips a beat. I think back to the library, when I had asked about the girl sitting alone. I knew that Danny's eyes reminded me of someone's...

"She's not here for the same reason as you," I state, though it must have come out sounding like a question, because Danny answers.

"Nope," Danny says, popping the 'P'. "She's selectively-mute. Why?"

"Just wondering," I mutter.

Danny shrugs, getting back up from the bed. He walks around the room for a little, seeming in another place. Eventually, he speaks, "What'd you do today? You didn't have therapy yet, did you?"

"Not yet," I reply, though I'm not looking forward to when I do. "It was just activities." I pause and finally ask the question that had been itching at me all evening. "Did Jake leave?"

Danny laughs wholeheartedly, and for a moment, my heart aches to laugh like that. Still smiling, Danny says, "I'm guessing you've met Jake, then. He's a cool dude, but yeah, he leaves at like eight, and he's gone for weekends."

"What do you know about him?" I ask. I finally sit back down on my bed, throwing the covers over my legs.

"Not much," Danny admits. "I'm not that close with him."

"He said he used to be a patient," I push, and Danny raises an eyebrow at my curiosity. "What for?"

Danny sighs, cracking his knuckles as he sits on his bed, facing me. "No one really knows for sure when it comes to Jake. Some people say he's schizo, some say he tried to kill himself, and some say he was a cannibal. Rumours are always spreading around about him, but no one actually knows the truth."

I take a moment to drink that in. Jake doesn't seem like a schizo, or a cannibal- not even close. He seems to be as sane as a person can get. He doesn't seem depressed, either. He's the happy I want to be.