The Symptoms of My Insanity Read Online Free Page A

before she can get it into the trunk, she starts coughing so hard that she has to lean against the side of the car.
    “Are you okay?” I grab the bag from her.
    “Fine, fine, battling a sinus thing, I think.” She straightens herself up.
    “Wait, didn’t you just go grocery shopping the other day?” I ask, seeing our almost-full trunk.
    “Yes, but Allissa’s coming in for the weekend.”
    Allissa’s school is less than two hours away. Yet whenever she’s coming home, Mom acts like my sister’s flying in from a foodless, far-off country.
    “We’re all going to spend the day together on Saturday,” Mom continues. “Have a girls’ day, go to the mall.” She smiles, as if just saying the word
mall
is an endorphin boost. “You both need winter clothes. And you desperately need a haircut.”
    A girls’ day? On Saturday? I would rather watch the Weather Channel, no, get caught in an actual blizzard, than go to the mall with Allissa and Mom. They’re always laughing about things I don’t find funny and getting excited about things I would never get excited about, like the fact that you get an ugly bag full of nasty-smelling perfume samples when you spend over seventy-five dollars at the makeup counter.Plus, when Allissa’s around, Mom’s always asking her about boys, saying nauseating things like, “So Allissa, you think this one’s Mr. Right?” and Allissa’s always saying equally nauseating things back like, “I don’t know, Mom, but we did hold hands during the whole movie.” And then they both talk about
me
. About me being antisocial, and never having a boyfriend. Like I’m not even there!
    “I don’t really need new clothes. The ones I have still fit me fine.” Well, except for my winter coat, and most of my button-down shirts, but she doesn’t have to know that right now.
    “Well, that’s not [cough] the point, Izzy.”
    “So the point of going shopping for new clothes isn’t to get new clothes?”
    “What?” Mom asks, looking confused, then drops the bag she’s holding back into the cart to let out another cough.
    “I’ll do the rest.” I grab that bag and another one as well. “It’s just that I didn’t know Allissa was coming in this weekend and … I kind of already made plans for Saturday.”
    “What plans?” she asks, leaning against the car again.
    “I was going to go to this thing at the DIA,” I say casually.
    “The DIA.” She whips her head around fast. “With who? [cough] What? How are you getting there? Is this for school? I don’t [cough] remember signing anything allowing you to take a field trip this weekend to downtown [cough] Detroit. If Miss Swenson thinks she can just take children into one of the most dangerous cities in the country, without [cough] so much as a permission slip [cough],then she’s going to get a call from me [cough, cough, cough].”
    “No, it’s not for Miss S. or for school,” I explain, pushing the empty cart back with the others. “My friend’s mom works there and this new wing is opening and …” I trail off.
    “What friend?” she asks as we finally get into the car.
    “My friend Blake.”
    “Who?”
    “Blake … Hangry,” I say, a little louder as she starts the engine.
    “I wasn’t aware you had a friend named Blake Hangry,” Mom says calmly between coughs.
    “Well … I do. And he’s—”
    “I’m sorry, Izzy, but you’re not going to Detroit on Saturday with … Blake Hangry.” She lowers her voice when she says his name, like it’s a dirty word.
    “It’s the DIA,” I plead. “It’s educational. And they’re opening this new wing. And … there’s food, and drinks, and … Oh! And his little sister is—”
    “Drinks [cough]?”
    “No, no, not like ‘drinks,’ like … refreshments.” But it’s too late and I know what’s coming.
    “Remember the girl who woke up naked [cough], in a bathtub, with her organs in a jar?” Mom reminds me, dead serious.
    “Yeah, but Mom—”
    “A couple of