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"Hi, Mara," Dr West said, leaning over to seeand put down ?"
"Kind of nervous," I said sheepishly "I really htly--a flowering tree She would read so--and normal people love trees
She nodded "I understand"
I widened o home?"
"Of course, Mara"
"Today, I mean"
"Oh Well" Her brow furrowed "I don’t know yet, to be honest"
"Is it even possible?" My innocent-kid voice was driving me insane I’d used it more in the past day than I had in the past five years
"Well, there are a few possibilities," she said "You could stay here for further treatment, or possibly transfer to another inpatient facility Or your parents could decide that a residential treatment center would be the best place for you, since you’re a teenager--rams that would allow you to spend soroup and experiential therapies"
Residential Not ideal
"Or an outpatient progra--"
"Outpatient?" Tellthrough difficult things, just like you"
Doubtful
"You work roup therapy and in experiential therapies like art and music--with a bit of time devoted to schoolwork, but the focus is definitely on therapy And at the end of the day, you go home"
Not so terrible At least now I knehat to hope for
"Or, your parentsbut therapy We’ll make our recommendation, but ulti by soon, actually," she said, glancing at the elevators "Why don’t you keep drawing--what a lovely picture!--and then we’ll speak again after I talk with her?"
I nodded and s was i to make the falsely cheerful picture even more falsely cheerful when I was startled by a tap on irl, , unbrushed dirty blond hair stood shyly with her thu for her over a blue skirt with ruffles to match her blue socks She passed me a folded piece of paper with her free hand
Sketchbook paper My fingers identified the texture immediately, andthe picture I gave Noah, of Noah, weeks ago at Croyden And on the back were just three words, but they were the e:
I believe you
They ritten in Noah’s handwriting, andby some miracle to see his face
But there was no one here that didn’t belong
"Where did you get this?" I asked the girl