d e r e k
"Good news!" Dr. Harris exclaims with a giant smile on his face, white teeth sparkling. I lean back in my seat, raising one eyebrow doubtfully.
"Really?" I ask. "What is it?"
It's not often that a therapist stops me in the middle of the corridor to give me 'good news', after all. If anything, I try to stay away from Dr. Harris as much as possible. He's someone I only want to see when I have to- therapy, really- because otherwise, I would be fed up with him very quickly. But Dr. Harris just falls into step with me, looking jolly and carefree.
"You're on your way to getting out," he tells me, and I almost trip.
I look up, expecting to see him wink or burst out laughing and tell me he's joking, but he just stops when I do. "Seriously?" I blurt out. "When?"
"Possibly the middle of September," he tells me, giving me a pat on the back, and I don't even have the urge to break his hand. I just stand there, completely in shock, watching as Dr. Harris gives me another thumbs up before waving over another worker, running over to them. I blink a couple of times, only snapping out of my shocked daze when another patient bumps into me.
I stumble back, stop, and then smile. Really widely. And shamelessly, if I'm being honest. I don't care if anyone sees me grinning like a fool; I'm so happy and proud. I actually feel like nothing can really bring me down at this point, which is slightly weird, considering just last month I felt like nothing could bring me up.
I stuff my hands in my sweater pockets, making my way to the lunch room to grab something to eat, suddenly noticing just how hungry I am. When I get there, I'm still feeling giddy, which is beyond noticeable because when I sit down, Sam is the first to laugh, "What're you so happy about?"
I open my mouth to answer, but my voice and smile dies as soon as my eyes land on the person standing in the corner of the room, talking and laughing with one of the staff. I still remember him from the first day, ever since Jake had grumbled about him leaving Jake to be alone.
Sam's eyes follow mine to land on George, Jake's foster dad. He usually never comes upstairs, I notice, so Sam also makes a small noise when she sees him. "It's George," she simply says.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "Kind of weird seeing him around here."
Sam nods in agreement. "Yeah. Do you think we can ask him how Jake is?"
"We probably shouldn't bother him," I mutter quietly.
Sam nods and we go back to eating. The silence doesn't last long, though. Sydney makes her way over to our table, frowning when she notices how silent we are.
"Whoa, who died?" she says. "No, seriously, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Sam sighs. "Just..." She uses her fork to point to George.
"Ah," Sydney says. "Let's talk to him!"
I feel like throwing my plastic knife at her. But nothing stops Sydney; she grabs one of my hands, and one of Sam's, and drags us up from the table. I don't fight her, honestly, since I do want to talk to George. I do want a hundred percent reliable source when it comes to information on how he's doing.
George turns when we approach him. The only thing similar between him and Jake has to be the color of their eyes- when Jake's wearing his contacts, that is. I still don't really know why he has coloured contacts, but decide not to question it. It's Jake, after all. He gives us a warm smile, and suddenly, I can tell why Jake trusts the guy.
