Free No Kiss Goodbye by Janelle Harris

him.
    ‘Doesn’t your mother play bridge on Saturdays?’ I snap.
    Mark laughs. So hard he snorts unattractively. ‘Laura, you’re hilarious. I’m hardly going to ask my mother to be my date.’ More snorting follows. It’s growing louder and more irritating by the second.
    ‘Nicole was only saying last week how exciting the ball sounds. I’m sure she won’t mind coming. You guys are about the same size too so the dress won’t go to waste either.’
    WHAT? He’s taking the piss, right? Mark’s phone conversation flashes through my mind. Maybe he’ll drug me up, and I’ll just sleep through the ball. Stop it , I tell myself. 
    ‘I hope purple is her colour,’ Mark continues.
    Is he still talking? Is he actually serious? I can’t believe what I’m hearing . Nicole is a Pilates junkie. Any dress of mine would wrap around her three times, so technically, I should extract the hidden compliment in Mark’s suggestion, but I’m too upset that Mark has noticed Nicole has a body of any shape. I snap the dress from Mark’s hands nearly ripping it.
    ‘I said I liked it, didn’t I? As a matter of fact, I love it. I can’t wait to wear it...and I can’t wait for the ball. I’m so excited,’ I lie, blushing as I pull my arm back down from a dramatic air punch.
    ‘That’s my girl,’ Mark says in a much calmer tone than before.

Chapter Nine
     
    Time crawls by and days blur. My weekly visits to Doctor Hammond are my monotonous timekeeper. The waiting room in Doctor Hammond’s surgery is the dreariest room I’ve ever had the misfortune of occupying. Subtle, classical music plays in the background; the kind where you wonder if the harpist is plucking nostril hairs rather than strings.
    I look around the room. The other patients waiting are as careful as I am not to make eye contact. Every second person looks like a suicidal mass murderer. I freak myself out wondering if Doctor Hammond does actually counsel any reformed lunatics. Maybe the quiet and slightly creepy young man sitting beside me is capable of flipping out at any moment and slitting my throat with his grotesque, excessively long fingernails.
    ‘Laura Kavanagh,’ the secretary calls.
    Great! I think. Just tell the psychopath my name. Tell all the psychopaths in here my name. Then let’s give them my address and an axe and we’ll make our own low-budget horror movie back at my house.
    I roll my eyes and laugh inwardly at my overactive imagination. I’m sure everyone else is thinking the same less-than-pleasant thoughts about me. But I’m still suspiciously optimistic that I’m the only sane one in here. Even the secretary looks a little off; a bit like a cartoon character, only with more makeup.
    ‘The doctor will see you now,’ she says and mumbles something about helping me get past the small fish tank. She’s slowly walking towards me, and I suspect she’s about to wheel me off. I hate that. It’s frustrating enough not to have the use of my legs; I really don’t need the embarrassment of borrowing someone else’s. I’m already sour enough about being called to visit Doctor Hammond when I was just here yesterday, so I don’t need anything else to piss me off even more. I think my vicious glare scares her away because she swiftly retreats behind her desk and leaves me to my own devices.
    I bang and clunk my way towards the door and make a less than graceful entrance into the room. Doctor Hammond is sitting behind his desk, but he stands up as soon as he sees me.
    There are other people sitting in the chairs in front of his desk. They have their backs to me, and they don’t turn around to acknowledge my presence. I blush, decidedly uncomfortable, and begin to apologise for barging in on someone else’s session.
    ‘I’m so sorry. The receptionist told me to come on through,’ I stutter, trying desperately to reverse out of the room.
    ‘It’s okay, Laura,’ Doctor Hammond says softly. ‘Come on in.’
    I wheel forward very