Rorie watched the clock and tried not to watch the clock. English crawled by, just as US History had crawled by and Advanced Algebra had crawled by. She couldn’t
(calm down)
concentrate on the lectures, couldn’t keep her
(hush)
mind off her appointment. She fumbled a pop quiz, got caught out woolgathering by teachers, nearly embarrassed herself on a simple question until she
(you know this)
(remember)
managed to pluck the answer out of thin air. And each time she swore to herself and tried to pay attention and then found herself staring at the clock again. Watching the clock and scrawling in her notebook.

(You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.)
“I do want to go.”
(It’s upsetting you.)
“I’m allowed to be upset. It’s okay to be upset.”
(But you’re unhappy. You shouldn’t be unhappy.)
“What’s wrong with unhappiness? Why shouldn’t I be unhappy? I have you hanging around and that makes me unhappy too, but you don’t seem to care about that.”
(I care very much for you, Aurora.)
“So leave.”
(Hush. You’re just making yourself more upset.)
“I am. I am upsetting myself. I’m talking to myself, and I’m just crazy enough that I think that someone else is holding up half the conversation. It’s a fact. You’re so right.”
(You’re not crazy.)
“If I’m so sane, why am I writing this?”

“Rorie? Do I need to repeat the question?”

She snapped her head up at Mr. Heckman. The question? What was the–
(Jim Goad.)
“Uh, Jim Goad.”

Heckman nodded, glanced at another desk. “And Sarah, what do you suppose motivated him?”

“What’s it like for you?”
(I don’t understand, Rorie.)
“Emmy, if you’re not me, if you’re not a tumor, then you have to be something else, right? I mean, who are you? What do you think about? What do you do when you’re not driving me insane?”
(I think about you, Aurora.)
“But what do you think about when you’re not.”
(I’m always thinking about you.)
“Who are you?”
(Hush. Hush.)
“Answer me. Who are you?”
(You’re getting upset again.)
“Answer me.”
(Hush, Rorie.)