Shackled Read Online Free Page B

love to go back and complain about homework or roll my eyes at dumb teachers or have cafeteria drama. It’s quite the messed-up little dynamic I’ve got: I don’t want to be there, with all those people, all the buildings,noise . . . but I want to want to. It’s partly the reason I stopped taking my meds and quit going to see Dr. Carpenter. Just wanted to be normal again. If I ever was.
    â€œThat’s great, dude,” I said, not looking at whatever it was Jeffrey was trying to get me to watch.
    I walked into the hall and toward my room, catching Jeffrey frowning at me as I went. That hurt.
    When I got into my room, I plugged my phone in to recharge right away. I really needed to be better about doing that. What if there was some kind of emergency, and my stupid battery wasn’t charged? What if, say, someone tried to grab me?
    I sat on my bed, staring cross-eyed at my peach-colored carpet. Would a cell phone have made any difference six years ago? I didn’t get one until I was thirteen. That day at the mall, who would I have called, really? And if Tara had had one, whoever grabbed her would’ve just taken her phone, of course.
    It’s not “whoever,” I thought. It’s that guy from the shop today. It’s him.
    Tension tied my shoulders taut. It was time.
    I took the white pillbox out of the coin pocket of my jeans and set it on my pillow. The light blue pillowcase needed washing. I crossed my right ankle over my left knee and rolled up my pant leg. Six-year-old posters from boy bands long since dead or turned into actors stared down and watched me. I ran a finger over the ladder of raised scars on my calf. Frets on aflesh guitar, half an inch apart. Counted them, over and over, one two three four five six seven eight, one two three four . . .
    I popped open the pillbox and took out my razor. Held it up to my eye. Beyond, out of focus, my pink walls looked smudged and dingy. Thought, Maybe I should paint them, as I checked the blade for blood. Clean, as always. I pulled my small travel bottle of rubbing alcohol out of my backpack. Poured a capful, dipped one tip of the blade into it. Poured the capful back into the bottle. Screwed it shut. Put it away. Held my breath—
    â€œPelly!”
    Jeffrey knocked on my door. The kid’s polite, I’ll give him that. Mom just barges in. When she’s home.
    â€œWhat,” I snapped, rushing to put the blade back into my case and rolling down my pant leg. I didn’t want him to know.
    â€œDad’s on the phone,” Jeffrey said through the flimsy wood. “He wants to know why you didn’t call him back.”
    â€œMy battery was dead,” I said. “I didn’t know he called. I’ll call him later.”
    â€œBut he’s on the phone now .”
    â€œDude! Forget it, okay? I said I’ll call him back.”
    Jeffrey made a disapproving little noise, the same kind Mom makes. That didn’t help persuade me. I heard him mumbling to Dad as he went back down the hall. “Well, I don’t know what her big problem is . . .”
    I breathed out. That was close. I didn’t want Jeffrey to see me slice. I could never explain it. It would freak him out.
    What does that tell you? Dr. Carpenter’s voice asked in my head.
    â€œShut up,” I whispered. I’d already given up my meds and visits to her office. I needed my smokes and blade to get through the damn day. I’d wait until Jeffrey went to bed tonight, though. Just to be safe.
    I turned my phone on while it was still charging, and found the voice mail icon shining at me. So Dad did call. Whatever.
    My dad’s an airplane pilot for a mail company. He must love his job a lot because he’s always flying. Or maybe he just didn’t like being home because he’d have to deal with me—
    Snap! Stop intrusive thought.
    My rubber band broke. Oh well. I had a drawerful. I saved