Free Out of My Mind by Pat White Page B

dad?” Detective Ryan called from the hallway.
    J.D. stepped out of the bathroom and offered him the bag. “Here.”
    Ignoring him, the detective wandered through the main room, fingered a stack of books on the coffee table. “Looks like you read a lot.”
    Yeah, he read a lot of psychology books to help him manage his dad.
    “Not really,” J.D. said.
    Detective Ryan tipped his head to the side and spotted one of J.D.’s sketchpads on the table.
    “I draw.” J.D. placed the specimen bag on the table between them and closed his sketchbook.
    “So, I see.”
    J.D. suspected the detective saw a lot of things. “Are we done?”
    “Why? You’ve got someplace to be?”
    “I’ve got homework.”
    “Uh-huh.” Detective Ryan waited for more.
    He’d be waiting a long time.
    The front door swung open with a crash and J.D. held his breath.
    “J.D.!” Billy bolted down the hall and froze at the sight of Detective Ryan. “What’s he doing here?”
    “Drug test,” J.D. said. “It’s fine. Go upstairs.”
    Billy shot a quick glance at the ceiling and hesitated.
    “Not home,” J.D. said.
    With a nod Billy sprinted up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.
    “What was that about?” Detective Ryan said.
    “What?”
    “He looks terrified.”
    “Doesn’t like cops.” J.D. went to the front door and opened it.
    The cop grabbed the specimen bag and eyed J.D. from head to toe and back up again.
    He walked to the front door and looked directly into J.D.’s eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”
    “I’m not on anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    “It wasn’t.”
    J.D. clenched his jaw.
    “Okay, I’m going.” Detective Ryan put up his hand in surrender and left.
    J.D. slammed the door, but not hard. Didn’t want to piss off the cop. He just wanted him out of his life.

 
     
     

Chapter Nine
     
     
    I can’t believe they’re making me miss morning classes to see Dr. Sanders. The ER doctors said I was okay, so what’s the big deal?
    Skipping class is really not good for me right now. I haven’t even done yesterday’s homework thanks to last night’s near brain disaster.
    “Dr. Sanders will be with you in a minute.” The nurse shut the door to the examining room.
    “Magazine?” Mom offered.
    “No, thanks.”
    Mom and I wait patiently in the sterile white examining room. Dad had an early meeting and couldn’t come with us. I didn’t expect him to. Last night only made him more insane. I accused them of overreacting, especially Mom, who kept checking on me all night long. I pretended to be asleep, but a few times I heard the door open, sensed her sneak to my bed, and felt her touch my forehead. Why she thought I’d get a fever is a mystery.
    Also a mystery, what exactly happened last night in the street?
    My recall is fuzzy. I remember the blinding lights burning into my chest, about to vaporize me when I was shoved out of the way.
    Vaporize me? Yep, I’ve really lost it. I just wish I could remember.
    Taylor says J.D. purposely slammed into me on his skateboard. Dad believed that story and wanted to press charges, but the nurse at the scene said J.D. shoved me out of the way of oncoming traffic.
    If he hadn’t, I would have been road kill. Again.
    It’s a pretty good bet that another crack to the skull would have been my last. The brain can only take so much.
    I can’t help but wonder…why would J.D. care if I got whacked by another car? He doesn’t care about anything but partying and staying out of jail. Wait a sec, I get it: I’m his community service project, his ticket out of probation and the way to clear his record.
    Yet last night when I regained consciousness his arms were protectively locked around my body. I inhaled his woodsy scent and felt, I don’t know…safe?
    I am losing my mind. For real.
    A brisk knock snaps me out of my thoughts.
    “Ladies.” Dr. Sanders joins us, eyeing a folder in his hand. He isn’t wearing his usual, charming smile. Crap. Did he spot