Zoe Letting Go Read Online Free Page B

asked.
    “No.”
    Her look was quizzical.
    “I don’t like apricots,” I explained.
    “That’s fine. But you need to taste it for the purpose of this exercise.” Her tone was stringent. Glancing about me in search of understanding, I saw that each of the stares directed at me was an accusation. Had I said the wrong thing again? It wasn’t fair—the others had gotten here before me. They knew the rules and they also knew that I
didn’t
know the rules. It wasn’t fair of them to punish me.
    Devon counted up to three. When she got to the final digit, each of the five girls robotically inserted the apricot into her mouth. I put mine down on the table instead. Nobody, I decided, was going to tell me what to do.
    “When you feel ready, consciously bite into the apricot,” Devon said. “Notice the tastes that it releases.”
    Five bony jaws sank their teeth into five dried apricots. My apricot remained intact on the table in front of me. I crossed myarms and stared at it. The smell of cookies baking spilled forth, meanwhile, from behind closed oven doors.
    One of the girls raised her hand.
    “Yes, Brooke?” Devon said.
    The girl pointed at me and said, with a mouth full of apricot, “Zoe isn’t participating.”
    My stomach shriveled into a raisin.
    “Focus on yourself, Brooke,” Devon said. “Everybody with me? Slowly chew the apricot. Notice how it changes consistency. Notice how the tastes change. When you feel ready to swallow, follow the sensations of swallowing down to your stomach.”
    When the ovens beeped, I glanced up and found Devon eyeing the untouched apricot sitting in front of me. Everyone else, it appeared, had successfully ingested hers. Only one apricot—mine—remained uneaten.
    “Good work, girls,” Devon said. “You can all test your cookies to see if they’re done. Remember to use the mitts; pans are hot.”
    A scuffle of chairs and murmurs accompanied the other five girls as they rose to fetch their cookie trays. I sat alone, like a child waiting to be punished, as Devon took the empty seat next to me.
    “Today is your first day,” she said.
    “Yes.”
    “I allowed you to skip the Mindfulness exercise only because I don’t like to single girls out right off the bat. The exercises, however, are non-optional. You’ll be expected to comply with every step, starting now.”
    My tablemate returned before I could reply, her tiny arms trembling to support a baking tray laden with glistening brown lumps. “Thanks, Zoe,” Devon said, patting my shoulder as she vacated the stool.
Thanks for what?
I wondered. I hadn’t agreed to anything. My partner set her tray down on the table, grimacing with the effort.
    “Those look perfect.” Devon told her. “You’re setting a great example for Zoe.”
    The girl’s eyes were glued to the tray, but not even a faint smile curled her lips. The smell of spices and caramelized brown sugar was intoxicating, and I wished I could shut my nostrils the same way I could close my eyes. Devon moved among the stools, hands clasped, evaluating the handiwork of each pair. Dozens of cookies lay steaming on their trays, and the sight seemed to mesmerize the other girls, who ran their fingers over the ridges of the cookies, bent down to smell them, and closed their eyes deeply upon inhaling. Cookies remind most people of home and comfort, but it had been a long time since they reminded me of anything good.
    I sat still as Devon handed out fresh copies of the recipe—“For you guys to keep,” she said cheerfully. I flattened the recipe page and began to read it, hoping to avoid the stares of the other girls. They were beginning to transfer their interest from the cookies back to me, and despite my best efforts, I felt the stares reddening my cheeks. I felt my back start to buckle under the scrutiny of five girls whose names I did not know and whose histories couldn’t possibly be as grisly as their appearances suggested.
    One of these girls, it occurred to