Free M.I.N.D. by Elissa Harris

sense. The car was stolen from the country club parking lot, and what a surprise, Brendan’s a member.”
    â€œJosh works there, and you don’t see me accusing him , do you?” I shake my head. “I don’t get it, Leeny. Why is this such a big deal to you?”
    â€œIt’s not a big deal,” she retorts. “I just think it’s your moral duty.”
    Moral duty? This from the girl who said “life goes on” when I disapproved of her going to the concert? “I know you’re mad that Amanda dumped us, but if this is your way of getting back at her, it’s really sick.”
    â€œI’m going to ignore that, but only because you’re upset.” She sighs. “Look, all I’m saying is that you could find out for sure. You have a power, Cass.”
    â€œI already told you, I can’t read minds. And even if I could, then what? Go to the police? And tell them what? I found a locket so I decided to hack into Brendan’s brain?”
    We hear my mother on the stairs and we both fall silent.
    Toting a bucket of cleaning supplies, she charges into my room. “Leanne, honey, I think you should go now.” She snaps on her rubber gloves. “Cassie needs some quiet time. And sweetie? Talk to your mother. It’s not good to keep your feelings bottled up inside.”
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Stewart. You’re a great listener. Cassie’s a lucky girl.”
    Not only is my best friend delusionally suspicious—at least I’m not the only schizo around here—she’s a total suck.
    After she leaves, my mother starts in on the fur ball. “I’ll keep you company until dinner,” she says as she scoops up the mess. “You can listen to your music if you want. Don’t mind me. Just pretend I’m not here. When I’m done with the carpet, how about I tidy your drawers?”
    I groan. She’s going to be gawking at me for the next several hours.
    In spite of my post-jump headache, I stick in my earbuds and crank up the volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts swimming in my head.
    Amanda was stoned on the bus. Was that the only reason she was flipping out?
    Could Brendan have been the driver in that hit-and-run?
    Brendan drives a BMW convertible. Why would he be joyriding?
    Last year he was suspended for posting fake snow-day notices on the school’s website; the year before, back in junior high, it was for tripping the fire alarm just for the hell of it.
    They never did find the guy who shot out the principal’s window. They think it was a disgruntled kid. A kid with a gun. Also for the hell of it.
    You have to turn around! We have to go back!
    Poor little Rose .
    Is it really so crazy?
    The pain in my head is worse. The light from the window feels like a needle, right through my eyelids. I curl up in a ball, squeeze my eyes tight.
    â€œCassie!” my mother warns. “Stay with me!”
    I groan again. A few minutes ago we were sharing a body. How much togetherness can I take in a day?

Six
    Row, Row, Row Your Boat
    â€œTwenty minutes!” my mother yells up from the kitchen.
    It’s Thursday morning and I’m sitting on my bed, still in my bathrobe, fiddling with the locket. “Okay!” I yell back down. “I heard you a minute ago!” And five minutes ago. And ten minutes ago.
    Just because I wouldn’t wake at the snap of her fingers on Tuesday, on Wednesday she took me to the doctor and today I’m having an MRI. Is this rational? Given a choice—which I wasn’t, thank you very much—I’d rather be in biology, studying the entrails of frogs. But no, in approximately one hour, I’ll be in that metal coffin, clenching my teeth to keep from screaming.
    Fine. I’m exaggerating. Getting your brain scanned isn’t painful, like having dental work without lidocaine, for instance. Basically, you lie perfectly still in a long tube while this grating