Free My Life in Black and White by Natasha Friend

expectantly.
    “Sorry,” I mumbled, taking a seat—awkwardly, with both feet tucked up to the left. “Could you repeat the question?”
    “I was asking about the pain. How you’re managing physically.”
    I shrugged, shifting my position. “Okay, I guess.”
    “Are you uncomfortable? Would you like to try a different seat?”
    “I’m okay.”
    Dr. Kamath nodded, scrawled something down on the notepad in front of her. “Have you looked in a mirror yet?”
    Just like that, she said it. Like she was talking about the weather. Have you been outside yet? Is it warm enough for shorts?
    I cleared my throat. “Not yet. No.” I thought about all the times I’d almost looked but chickened out. There was a hand mirror on my bedside table. One of the nurses, Claudia, had left if there, for whenever I felt ready to look. But every time I thought I was, I wasn’t. I’d pick up the mirror and then I’d think, Shit . And I’d put it right back down.
    “Okay,” Dr. Kamath said. “What about friends? Has anyone been to visit?”
    I let out a snort. I didn’t mean to, but there it was.
    Dr. Kamath smiled. “Care to elaborate?”
    You sound like my mother, I thought.
    Every day in the hospital my mother had been hounding me about my friends. Who’d called, who hadn’t. Who’d sent flowers, who hadn’t. My whole life , she’d been hounding me. My friends were a constant source of analysis and discussion. Which was ironic since I never said a word about her friends—and there were certainly grounds for complaint. The annoying church ladies who dropped by the house without warning, the high school friends who called in the middle of the night, crying about their cheating husbands. Did I bug my mother about them ? No. But she had no problem bugging me . Why didn’t I invite anyone besides Taylor over to our house? That pretty Kendall, or Rae, or Marielle Sisk who went to our church? I made up excuses, like the LeFevres’ house being more centrally located than ours or me and Marielle having nothing in common. But the truth was, Taylor was the glue. If it wasn’t for her, I never would have met Kendall and Rae. Without Taylor, I felt weird, even with the girls I’d known since kindergarten. I hadn’t forgotten sixth grade, when someone wrote snob on my locker. Or eighth, when Heidi invited everyone but me to her sleepover. Afterward, when I asked her why, she accused me of acting “too cool” for the rest of them. My mother always said the same thing: “They’re jealous.” “I don’t think so,” I’d say. “Oh, yes,” she’d insist. “They’re jealous. Because you are a beautiful girl.”
    Well. Not anymore.
    “Alexa?”
    I realized Dr. Kamath was still waiting for a response. My palms felt hot and moist against my knees.
    “A bunch of people came to visit,” I said, shifting my weight in the chair to take more pressure off my left bun. “But they’re not really my friends.”
    “No?”
    “Well, two of them are. One of them can’t stand me. And the rest are just … I don’t know … other girls in my grade.”
    “I see,” Dr. Kamath said, adding something to her notepad.
    I felt, suddenly, as though I were being graded. “Are you, like, not planning to let me go home if I don’t tell you exactly what you want to hear?”
    “What do you think I want to hear?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
    “Do you want to go home, Alexa?”
    “Yes!” I said. Then, “Why wouldn’t I want to go home?”
    Instead of answering, Dr. Kamath cocked her head to one side like some exotic bird. She didn’t say anything, just looked at me. And looked at me. And looked at me.
    I’ll bet she thinks if she looks long enough I’ll start spilling. I’ll bet this is lesson number one in shrink school.
    “Okay,” I said finally. “The guy who was driving the car … that caused the accident, you know? Jarrod…? He came to visit me, too. He’s not a friend exactly, but his sister Taylor is. Well,