Free Hancock Park by Isabel Kaplan Page A

sweetheart. Did your appointment with Sara Elder go okay?”
    I shrugged.
    â€œHave you seen your bedroom? It’s gorgeous—has an ocean view. I think you’ll like it.”
    I nodded. I had planned on talking to my mother, telling her about my day and my issues with Sara Elder, but suddenly, I found a nod was all I could manage. Anything more, and I was scared that I’d end up in tears.
    I walked into my new bedroom, which was empty except for an almond-colored desk and a full-sized bed.True to their word (although I couldn’t figure out when or how), the valets had brought up my bags, and I dragged them into the empty walk-in closet. Sitting on the floor of my closet, I unfolded a shirt—only to realize that the closet had no shelves, drawers, or hangers. I put my head in my hands and began to cry.

Neverland
    T wo days later, I was driving to school from Mom’s new apartment when my cell phone rang. I was still trying to get the hang of the trip from Santa Monica to Hancock Park. My first day, I had arrived at school late enough to miss Advisory and most of first period, and I couldn’t stand being late. I pressed down on the brake as I approached a red light and lifted my cell phone up to my ear. “Hello?”
    â€œIt’s Mom. Did you call Rite Aid for a refill yesterday?”
    I had left half an hour too early, and five minutes later I was just blocks from school—and so anxious that both of my legs were shaking.
    Rite Aid was refusing to fill my Topamax prescription. “It’s against their store policy to aid a sixteen-year-old inthe consumption of dangerous amounts of pharmaceuticals,” my mom told me. Apparently I was being prescribed enough Topamax to overmedicate a horse. My mom was fuming and finally sputtered, “And it’s against family policy to see a psychiatrist who would prescribe that amount.”
    The word family stuck out to me; I couldn’t help thinking, Does that word still apply to us?
    I turned onto my dad’s street and haphazardly parked in front of the house. Dad might wonder what the hell I was doing there, but I needed to sit and think. And there was no room for doing any of that at school. Jack was at Dad’s that morning despite the fact that we were supposed to be on our new schedule of one week with my mom and one week with my dad. It was his first day of school, so he’d wanted to be close to Stratfield.
    I left my backpack in the car and walked silently into the house and up the stairs to my bedroom. “Hello? Becky?” Dad called out as I shut my door.
    â€œYeah,” I answered, offering no further explanation for my unexpected arrival.
    I sank into the corner of the room where the bookcase full of my old textbooks met the crate full of stuffed animals that I had insisted on keeping. I picked up a stuffed bear and clutched it in my arms. What about all my secrets? What about everything that I had told Sara Elder? Wasn’t she supposed to want to help me, not hurt me?
    I remembered how, when I was really little, I used to take all my stuffed animals out of their shelves, boxes, andstorage bins and put them on the floor of my room. I would hide myself among them. I was small. I was still just a little girl.
    Now I was big, hiding in a corner of my bedroom, calculus and chemistry books jutting out from the bookcase that I was leaning against and poking me in the back. I held the soft bear close to my chest.
    Jack walked into the room through the bathroom that he and I shared. “What’s going on? Why are you here?” His hands were on his hips, and he looked around the room, trying to find me. “And why are you in the corner?”
    Because my shrink is trying to hurt me.
    Because I want to be five again.
    â€œNone of your business. Leave me alone.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Jack was waiting for something from me—a response, a shout, anything. But I stayed silent, and finally, he