The top of the desk was clean. Nurse Reilly had to open that cabinet every day when students came to take their medication in the mornings, so she would want easy access. Devon patted her hand along the bottom of the cabinet, along the sides … nothing. The “When Mama Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy” needlepoint hung on the wall, mocking her struggle. Did the needlepoint know something she didn’t? Devon slipped the frame off the wall, careful not to let it make any noise. A sliver of gold fell to the floor with a slight clink!
With trembling fingers, Devon unlocked the cabinet.
Her eyes widened at row after row of labeled orange pharmaceutical canisters—easily over a hundred. This didn’t even account for the kids taking pills that didn’t have prescriptions. There had to be a system to this cabinet, otherwise it would take Nurse Reilly all day to find everyone’s designated meds. Devon scanned the labels; they appeared to be organized by student last name. The first row, A-D. Nothing, just a lot of Ritalin and Adderall. E-K. More of the same. An asthma inhaler or two. L-R. Asthma medicine. Eczema cream. Valtrex. Devon made a note never to make out with Park, Robert. The last shelf, S-Z had more Adderall than the other shelves, insulin pills, and … nothing. No Oxy. No prescriptions for Hutch sitting unused.
It seemed the only Oxy at school was hiding from Isla in Devon’s dresser drawer.
* “Giving the subject the opportunity to connect with his/her own feelings is crucial.”—Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training Guide by Henry Robins, MFT
† “A Peer Counselor should never encourage the subject to discuss a tangential topic.”—Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training Guide by Henry Robins, MFT
‡ “As convincing as your subject may be, do not take sides with or against your subject.” —Peer Counseling Pilot Program Training Guide by Henry Robins, MFT
CHAPTER 7
Name: Isla Martin
Session Date: Sept. 18
Session #2
“You been feeling any better?” Devon asked. Isla sat in the leather chair opposite, winding her hair into small braids.
“I don’t know, whatever,” Isla said with a shrug. “Fine, I guess.”
“Kind of a gnarly week, huh? Last session you wanted me to hold onto your pills, Hutch’s funeral happened, and classes kicked into full gear. You handling everything all right?”
“How else would I handle it? Smile and be perfect, isn’t that the mandate around here?”
Devon returned her stare as gently as possible. “Did someone say that to you? Because if you’re not feeling like smiling, you don’t have to. There’s no mandate like that around here, with me.”
“Well, look who’s been drinking the Keaton Kool-Aid. Are you going to report me if I say anything anti-Keaton?”
Devon cleared her throat. “I didn’t see you at his service on Sunday.”
“What was I supposed to do? Play the grieving girlfriend? Comfort his mom, sit in the front row, and cry the loudest like a good girl? When meanwhile there’s some slut in the chapel carrying his baby? No way, I’m not doing that for him.”
Devon swallowed. “What do you mean?” For the first time, it occurred to her that she had no idea how much Isla knew.*
“Looks like Hutch knocked someone up. Cleo Lam-bitch thought it’d be funny to leave a pregnancy test on my bed. I thought maybe she heard something about the night Hutch died, but whatever. I caught her doing it, you know. She shouldn’t have been in my room.”
“I’m sorry.” Devon took a deep breath. “Start from the beginning. What would Cleo have heard about the night Hutch died?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. She shouldn’t have been in my room. She said she saw Hutch getting a freakin’ pregnancy stick for someone, can you believe that? She thought he was getting it for me and she wanted to help, yeah right. Crazy Francophile bitch. She knew Hutch wasn’t buying it for me; it was just her passive-aggressive way of telling me what she knew. I hate that freak.” Isla scratched at her arm, leaving red streaks along her pale white skin.
Devon kept silent. No way would she try to fill in the blanks here.
“The scary thing is, she was probably telling the truth. It was too random for her to make up. Cleo’s good at stirring up shit, but she’s not quite creative enough to invent it, ya know? Hutch was seeing someone this summer, after me. I know he was.”