“So now that we do know you’re down there,” Dr. Knutz drawled on, in his Western twang, “what do you say you let us give you a hand?”

The thing was—I wasn’t sure anyone could. Help me out of that hole, I mean. I was down there so deep, and I was so tired…even if someone threw me a rope, I wasn’t certain I’d have the strength to hang on.

“I guess,” I said, sniffling, “that that would be good. I mean, if it works.”

“It’ll work,” Dr. Knutz said matter-of-factly. “Now, tomorrow morning I want you to pay a visit to your general physician to get a blood workup, just to make sure there’s nothing amiss there. Certain medical conditions can affect mood, so we want to rule those out—along with the meningitis, of course. Then you can come see me for your first therapy session after school. From which my office is conveniently located just a few blocks away.”

I stared at him, my mouth suddenly dry. “I…I really don’t think I can go back to school tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Dr. Knutz looked surprised.

“I just…” I said. My heart had begun to slam into the back of my ribs. “Can’t…wouldn’t it be better if I started back to school on Monday? You know, make a clean start, and all of that?”

He just looked at me through his silver wire-rimmed eyeglasses. His eyes, I noticed, were blue. The skin around them was crinkly and kind-looking. Just like a cowboy’s eyes should look.

“Or maybe,” I said, “you could, you know. Prescribe me something. Some drugs or something. That might make it easier.”

Ideally some kind of drug that would completely knock me out so I didn’t have to think or feel anything until, oh, graduation.

Again, Dr. Knutz seemed to know exactly what I meant. And he seemed to find it amusing.

“I’m a psychologist, Mia,” he said with a tiny smile. “Not a psychiatrist. I can’t prescribe drugs. I have a colleague who can, if I feel I have a patient who needs it. But I don’t think you do.”

What? He could not be more wrong. I needed drugs. A lot of them! Who needed drugs more than me? No one! He was only denying me them because he hadn’t met Grandmère.

The next thing I knew, Dr. Knutz was blinking at me, and Dad was wriggling around uncomfortably in his chair. That’s when I realized I’d said that last part out loud.

Oops.

“Well,” I said defensively to Dad. “You know it’s true.”

“I know,” Dad said, looking heavenward. “Believe me.”

“Meeting your grandmother is something I look forward to doing someday,” Dr. Knutz said. “She’s obviously very important to you, and I’d be interested in seeing the dynamic between you. But, again…nowhere on this assessment did you indicate that you are feeling suicidal. In fact, when asked if you ever felt like killing yourself, you replied None of the time.”

“Well,” I said uncomfortably. “Only because to kill myself, I’d have to get out of bed. And I really don’t feel like doing that.”

Dr. Knutz smiled and said, “I don’t think drugs are the answer in your particular case.”

“Well, I need something,” I said. “Because otherwise, I don’t know how I’m going to get through the day. I’m serious. No offense, but you don’t know what it’s like in high school anymore. I’m not kidding, it’s scary.”

“You know, Eleanor Roosevelt, a lady few would argue didn’t have a good head on her shoulders,” Dr. Knutz remarked, “once said, ‘Do one thing every day that scares you.’”

I shook my head. “That makes no sense whatsoever. Why would anybody willingly do things that scare them?”

“Because it’s the only way,” Dr. Knutz said, “they’ll grow as an individual. Sure, a lot of things can be scary—learning to ride a bike; flying on an airplane for the first time; going back to school after you’ve broken up with your longtime boyfriend and a picture of you with your best friend’s boyfriend appeared in a widely distributed newspaper. But if you don’t take risks, you’ll just stay the same. And is that really how you think you’re going to get out of that hole you’ve fallen into? Don’t you think the only way you’re going to get out of there is to make a change?”

I took a deep breath. He was right. I knew he was right. It’s just…it was going to be so hard.

Well. Michael did say we both had some growing up to do.

Dr. Knutz went on, “And besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? You have a bodyguard. And it’s not like you don’t have other friends besides Lilly, right? What about this Tina person your mother mentioned?”

I had forgotten about Tina. It’s funny how this can happen when you’re in a hole. You forget about the people who would do anything—anything in the world, probably—to help you out of it.

“Yes,” I said, feeling, for the first time in a long time, a tiny flicker of hope. “There’s Tina.”

“Well, then,” Dr. Knutz said. “There you go. And who knows?” he added with a grin. “You might even have fun!”

Okay. Now I know his name really is appropriate. He’s nuttier than I am.

And considering I’m the one who hasn’t changed out of her Hello Kitty pajamas in almost a week, that is saying a lot.