Frost - Marianna Baer

that it’s in her head, because it’s actually happening. But it’s being

caused by her in some way. I don’t know how this all would tie

into delusions and hallucinations. I actually don’t think she has

hallucinations, unless the feeling that she’s being physically hurt

or whatever, unless that’s some sort of physical hallucination. But

the bruises could definitely be self-inflicted. There’s a correlation

between . . . between mental illness and self-harm.”

David’s left cheek twitched as I spoke. Maybe I should have

printed out some of the articles I read. It’s what had affected me

most—the idea that Celeste could have unknowingly done these

things herself. It’s what had filled me with that strange

combination of relief and terror.

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“I know this is a lot to hear,” I said. “I felt sick all night,

knowing I had to tell you. Well, that and worrying about her.” I

reached for my coffee cup, but the heat had drained away.

“Why didn’t she tell me herself?” he said. “Why did she tell

you?”

“I think . . . well, she knows how much you worry about her.

That scares her. She assumed you’d think she was . . . you know.

Sick. She thought I might believe her.”

David shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’d know if she was

sick.” He rubbed his palms back and forth on his knees.

I took a minute to consider his choice of words. “What do

you mean?”

“I’d know if she was sick,” he said. “I’d be able to tell.”

“Oh-kaay,” I said. “But you haven’t talked to her about this

stuff. You haven’t heard the way she talks about it.”

“No. But still.”

“So, then . . . what’s the alternative?” I said. “If she’s not

imagining stuff?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there really is something . . . weird in

there.”

“Like, something evil?” I said. “Something trying to hurt

Celeste? Is that what you mean?” He couldn’t.

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“I don’t know. Do you really think we can understand

everything about this stuff?”

“No, I guess not. But—”

“There are plenty of documented stories of hauntings.”

“David. Are you serious?” I studied his face. His stubble-

covered jaw was set.

“Well, there are,” he said.

“Maybe,” I said to avoid arguing over that side issue. “But

you have a history of psychosis in the family. And Celeste has the

paranoid impression that someone—something—is trying to kill

her. I mean, statistically—”

“I’d know if she was sick, Leena.”

I pushed my glasses up my nose. He was a mathematician;

how could he be so illogical?

“Are you really saying it’s more likely that the dorm is

haunted than that she’s had a psychotic break, something she’s

genetically predisposed to have?” Now I couldn’t take my eyes off

his profile, waiting for some sign that I wasn’t hearing what I

thought I was.

“You make it sound as if having a father like ours means it

will happen,” he said. “It’s a pretty low percentage, you know.”

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“But, David. Are you seriously listening to yourself? Haunted.

You believe the dorm is haunted.”

“I don’t know. But I’m not going to assume that she’s lost it.

She would tell me if she felt not right, mentally. We have a pact.”

“People don’t know!” I was having trouble keeping the

frustration out of my voice. I needed to remember how hard all of

this would be for him to hear. It shouldn’t have surprised me that

his first response would be denial. “Don’t you see? It all seems

real to her because her brain is perceiving it as being real. People

don’t know when they’re delusional. I live there, David. That

house is not . . . haunted. If such a thing even existed.”

“Since you don’t believe it can be, maybe you’re just not

open to seeing it.”

“David!” I said too loudly. “I’d know if there was something

wrong in the house. I’d certainly know if something was trying to

kill me. And nothing bad has happened to any of my stuff, you

know. Nothing.” I paused. “We have to tell the dean about this.

Or maybe not the dean first. Maybe your mom. Would that be

better? It should be your decision.”

He finally turned to face me. The blue of his eyes glowed

radioactive in the strong sun. “And then what? They send her to

some horrible place and shove her full of meds?”

So now he was throwing that back at me?

364

“Well, somewhere she can get help,” I said. “Of course. And

yes, meds can help.”

“God! You’re not a doctor yet, Leena. Even if you treat

yourself. How many psychotics have you even met? My father

was probably the first, right? And he wasn’t even having an

episode.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what? I know psychosis. I’ve lived with it. Celeste is not

acting at all like my father ever acted. I’d be able to tell.”

This conversation had strayed so far from what I had

anticipated. I had no idea what to say anymore. “But, David. If

you listen to what Celeste is saying—”

“Celeste is rational. She doesn’t have any other symptoms.”

He held out his hand and counted off on his fingers. “She’s doing

her schoolwork. She’s already got all of her college apps in—did

you know that? She has good personal hygiene. She hasn’t

withdrawn—”

“Of course she has,” I said. “We barely ever see her

anymore.”

David shook his head. “That’s because of us, because she

doesn’t know how to deal with our relationship. And I see her on

my own, when you’re not around.”

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“I can’t believe we’re arguing over this,” I said. “If she’s not

sick, then it won’t hurt to tell someone, right?”

“Leena. I’m going to talk to Celeste. Until then, don’t do

anything. Anyway, waiting won’t make a difference. If you are

right, if she’s sick, what’ll it matter? A few days won’t change

anything. Right?”

“It’s just, if she’s sick—”

“If you are right,” he interrupted, “if she’s sick, then I

promise, a day or two won’t make any difference. Nothing will

change the fact that Celeste, the Celeste I know, is gone.”

366

Chapter 37

GOING TO MY CLASSES WAS NOT AN OPTION. David’s

completely irrational view of the facts had thrown me for almost

as big a loop as Celeste’s revelation. There was only one place I

could safely process the information.

I fumbled a round yellow pill into my mouth. I needed clarity.

Too much emotion and confusion battled in my brain. I breathed

in the closet’s comforting smell, traced my finger over Cubby’s

feathers, and tried to think.

Was the power of denial so strong that it could completely

prevent David from seeing the truth? Maybe the drive for self-

protection trumped logic, rationality. When David talked to

Celeste, though, when he heard the paranoia in her voice, he’d

have to come to terms with what was really happening. He just

needed some time to let it sink in.

And where would that leave us? The loneliness that lay

ahead of him made my chest ache. It made me want to tell him

that I’d be there, in whatever way he needed. Did he know that? I

couldn’t believe how strongly attached I’d grown to him in such a

short time.

You know that can only hurt you . Once he doesn’t want you.