Ten | newtmas

fifty seven

Christmas is bitter-sweet. We wind up going to Teresa's for dinner, and while it's annoying to be around so many people, she makes me feel more comfortable. I want to talk to her about seeing Thomas, but I'm almost positive her mother would find out and tell mine, and I don't want to deal with that.

    Other than that, my parents seem extra eager to make sure nothing is weird. Even my father insisted we all spend the morning together. My parents got me gifts—a few video games they say I can play with Alby, books, clothes, and a rainbow flag pin that simultaneously makes me groan and warms my heart—and each other gifts, and I see them hug. I don't remember the last time that happened.

    We watched a movie together, too, but my mind was on one thing only. Thomas. What was he doing? Was he safe? Were they doing more testing on him?

    It's Wednesday now, and I haven't stopped thinking about TIMI once. On the way back to Alby's house after we left that night, we barely spoke a word. All he asked was if I got enough evidence, and I shook my head, tears coming faster the more I thought about my failure.

    I haven't been able to see Alby since, with the holidays and all that, but I can't bring myself to get involved in the festivities much with everything going on. All of my time is spent re-reading the papers I took pictures of and figuring out what the drug does. I think I understand the paper Dr. Randall wrote now, and I get why this is so secret. This is seriously under-developed research, and instead of experimenting the right way, they're using children to test their theories.

    It also explains why they tried to give it to me. Apparently glutamate levels affect people with OCD too—or at least that's what they think.

    We're on break from school, and I didn't get to see Dr. Rachel on Monday since she wasn't open on Christmas Eve, so I've been using my journal. It's filled with every single thing that's happened since Friday afternoon, and it's been helping to get things out.

    I'm writing in it now when my phone buzzes. It's Alby, so I pick it up as soon as I see it. "Hello?"

    "Hey, man. Sorry I've been so busy this week. How was Christmas?" Alby asks. I'm still not used to hearing from him like this.

    "Christmas was alright. How was yours?"

    "It was fine," Alby says. There's a moment of dead air that makes me cringe. "How are you holding up?"

    He sounds concerned. "I'm worried," I say truthfully. I'd called Chuck Christmas morning, and he was thankfully out of solitary by then, but he had no updates on Thomas. He just wanted to know if I got what I needed. That wasn't a fun call.

    "Wanna hang today? I'm free, and there's way too much family staying here for comfort," Alby says. Before his partying days, I remember Alby disliked crowds almost as much as I did. I figured he'd grown out of it.

    It's only ten in the morning, so I was considering just getting back to sleep, but I think I could use the company. I've been in my head way too much, and it'd be good to talk about these things to someone. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

    "Great, I'll pick you up in fifteen," Alby says, before promptly hanging up. This is my life again. Hanging out with Alby at a moments notice. I find myself smiling as I get ready.

"Ho ho ho," Alby says as I get into his car, placing my bag on the floor. It's annoying having one in the first place, but I need to carry my medication in something. I've got my journal in there too, since carrying it around has become a habit. I actually laugh at the wide grin on his face.

    "Hello to you too," I say, buckling in my seatbelt.

    "No, man, I got you something," Alby says. I frown as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to me.