The Haunted - Jessica Verday [57]
“Abigail, I’m talking to you!”
I poured some orange juice and guzzled it down in one long swallow.
“Are you purposefully ignoring me?” she said.
“Mom, chill.” I sat the empty cup down and reached for more OJ. “I was just getting a drink.” She put both hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.
I was so not in the mood for this right now. She knows how to turn everything into a bigger deal than it really is.
“You can’t just go… go… ,” she sputtered.
“Go where, Mom? For a walk around the same streets I’ve been walking up and down since I was eight years old? I’m seventeen. I’m allowed to go for a run, if I want to.” It slipped out before I had a chance to even think about it.
“A run?” she said. “You went for a run this morning?” I pointed to my wet hairline. “Do you see the sweat? That’s generally what happens when you exert yourself.”
She was at a loss now, and we both knew it. I put the juice back in the fridge and grabbed my cup to take with me. “I’m going to go take a shower now. See ya.” She followed me out of the kitchen.
God, is she going to watch me shower, too?
But she only followed me to the bottom of the stairs.
“Next time, leave a note or something!” she said. “And you have a phone call to return. Dr.
Pendleton called.”
“Fine, Mom,” I called down, slamming my door shut for emphasis. I’d call him after my shower.
An hour later, when I was clean and dry and dressed again, I sat down to call Dr.
Pendleton. His phone rang twice, and my eyes wandered to a row of cobalt bottles lined up on my desk. I reached for one marked FALLOWEEN and rolled it around in my hand to mix it up.
The receptionist picked up on the fifth ring. “Doctor’s office.”
“Hi, this is Abigail Browning. I’m returning Dr. Pendleton’s call.”
“One second, please,” she said cheerfully, and then flute music was playing in my ear. I twisted off the top of the bottle in my hand and inhaled deeply. The scent was warm and musty, with hints of dry leaves and crackling bonfires. I was instantly transported to October.
Seeing the leaves turning colors in the cemetery, pulling my jacket closer around me, tucking my scarf against my throat…
This was what fall smelled like.
I pulled back, studying the bottle, and then reached for one of my notebooks. Maybe I should add a drop or two of tart-apple fragrance oil. That would spice it up just a bit.
A deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “This is Dr. Pendleton.” I fumbled with the phone and almost dropped it.
“Hi, Dr. Pendleton. This is Abbey, returning your call.”
“Yes, Abbey, how are you doing? How was the bridge ceremony?” The ceremony. It had only been a couple of weeks ago, but it felt like months had passed.
“I didn’t throw up on anyone, so that’s good.”
He chuckled. “How did you feel afterward? Did it feel like closure?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “But I didn’t have any breakdown moments, so I guess that’s progress, right?”
“Any time we feel like we have transcended a moment, then we are moving beyond our limitations.”
So is that a yes or a no? He never gave me a straight answer. “Okay, then.”
“And what about our other issues?” he asked. “Have you been back to the cemetery? To Kristen’s grave?”
“Yeah, I’ve been back to visit her grave. It was before the ceremony, just to kind of say hello.”
He made an mmm-hmming noise on the other end. “Any hallucinations?”
“No. I’ve been working with a classmate on some extra-credit school stuff, and taking walks. I even talked with my dad about my business plan for my shop, and I’m going to be working on that. It’s been a great summer so far.” Please, please let that be a good enough answer.
“That sounds like excellent progress.” A door opened in the background, and the receptionist said something about his twelve o’clock being there. “I’m glad to hear you’re adjusting so well, Abbey. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Okay, Dr. Pendleton. I