CHAPTER SEVEN

Five minutes later, Z was trekking up the staircase with Andrew, Sabrina and Gabby to the second floor, where Dr. Pearl’s office was tucked away with the other administrative offices. Z had never been here before, thank God. It was one benefit of having your father donate a dump truck full of money to the school board. When they enrolled her, Z’s parents told the principal that Z had a psychologist on call if she were to need one, so seeing Dr. Pearl wouldn’t be necessary. She’d heard her mother refer to Dr. Pearl as a “low-budget shrink,” and her mother despised anything on sale. Now it turned out her mom could be right for once. This low-budget shrink might have poisoned her daughter.

When they reached the office, the door was ajar and Dr. Pearl’s voice drifted out to the hallway. “I think I can get away for a few hours next weekend —”

Suddenly, she paused and turned to the doorway, glancing through the slight gap to see the four of them congregated in the hall.

“I’ll call you right back,” she muttered into the phone before hanging up.

Z and the others crowded into her office, as small, dreary and windowless as Z had expected. If you weren’t depressed before a visit to Dr. Pearl, you certainly would be afterward.

“Good morning, everybody,” Dr. Pearl chirped. She raked her hand through her short hair as she took in the group before her, seemingly unfazed. “How can I help you?”

“What did you do to us?” Z snapped before anyone else had the chance to answer.

“Excuse me?” Dr. Pearl straightened up in her chair.

Sabrina shot Z an annoyed look. “We need to talk to you about that group-therapy session,” she said, sounding less pissed off than Z, which in turn only annoyed Z more. When did Sabrina become the moral authority of the group?

“Group therapy? What are you talking about?” Dr. Pearl appeared genuinely confused.

“Last Thursday,” Andrew told her. “We each got summoned by you to a group-therapy session. You left us all notes in our lockers. The four of us and Justin Diaz.”

Z’s instincts were already clocking something very wrong. “They said you had a student emergency and couldn’t come —”

Dr. Pearl cut her off. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“The people running the therapy program,” Sabrina replied. “A young guy named Nash. And an older woman … what was her name again?”

“Patricia,” said Andrew. “Dr. Patricia Nichols.”

Dr. Pearl stared at the ceiling for a moment.

“Let me be clear,” Dr. Pearl said. “I did not give anyone notes last Thursday. I wasn’t here that day. I had a countywide conference scheduled off campus. I wasn’t even in Cedar Springs.”

Z looked at the others. If Dr. Pearl hadn’t authorized Patricia and Nash to begin the program, then who had?

“We need to find out who those people were,” Z said, hating that a hint of desperation had entered her voice. “They sent us all notes from you. And really weird things have been happening since we met with them.”

Dr. Pearl crossed her arms. “Okay, this alleged note you all received —”

“It wasn’t ‘alleged.’ It was real,” Andrew insisted.

“Wait — I think I still have it.” Sabrina fished through her bag until she produced the note, creased and slightly torn from sitting under a pile of textbooks.

Dr. Pearl read it dubiously.

“Someone must have stolen some of my stationery …” Dr. Pearl said, raising an accusatory eyebrow at them all, her eyes settling on Z. Z bit her tongue. Convincing the school shrink that she wasn’t a klepto wasn’t the point right now.

“You think we did this?” Andrew asked incredulously. “Someone put these in our lockers. Why would we make this up?”

Dr. Pearl swiveled back toward her computer. “I think I have an idea.”

She clicked on the keyboard for a few seconds, then scanned the screen.

“Uh-huh …” She clicked her mouse again. “Uh-huh … uh-huh … and yes.” Finally, she looked at them again. “That’s what I thought.”

“What?” Z asked, her heart already sinking.

“I just checked the attendance record. All four of you have an unexcused absence last Thursday. I’ll give you points for creativity. But if you’re looking for a way out of detention, I’m sorry, it’s not happening. Z, this is your fourth unexcused absence this month, which means you’ll be suspended for at least a day.”

Z ignored the irony that the punishment for skipping class was to be granted an entire day off school. “Think about it, Dr. Pearl. The reason we were all absent at the exact same period is because we all went to this therapy session.”

“We really did get these notes,” Gabby finally said.

Dr. Pearl gave a half sigh as she looked at Gabby, a bit of sympathy filling her dark brown eyes. “Well, then, someone may have been playing a joke on you, Gabby. And if that was the case, I’m sorry. If you get a note like this again, come directly to me.”

As she turned back to her computer, signaling that the meeting was officially over, the ringing in Z’s ears began.

These kids have really gone off the deep end this time.

“Dr. Pearl —” Andrew began, but Z cut him off.

“Let’s go. This is pointless.” She looked contemptuously at Dr. Pearl. “Some therapist. She’s given up on us, too.”