"Do you think I'm crazy?" Elle asked. She looked right at me and pulled at her jacket sleeves.
I didn't know what to say. Of course I thought she was crazy, but I couldn't tell her that. I couldn't tell her it was okay, either. "Are you going to tell your parents?" I asked. I knew she wouldn't, even though she needed to.
Elle looked down at her hands. "It's not that bad."
I wanted to yell at her. She never listened to me, ever. I tell her not to smoke, and she gets caught. I tell her to stay away from that boy, and he gets her into drugs. I tell her not to do drugs, and she says they don't actually hurt her that much. I tell her not to go to North Side and she spends two nights in juevie. "I think you should tell them."
"Yeah?" she said, but she had an edge to her voice. "And what will they do? Send me away? I don't think so!"
"Maybe it would be for the best." I raised my voice so that it was high and sweet sounding, but Elle grew even angrier.
"I have a friend in an institute, and a fat lot of good it's done her! I won't be able to see my family! Or you!" She pushed herself down from the bathroom counter and slammed her fist against the wall. I almost tried to baby her; I almost showed her how upset I was that she broke uncountable knuckles from hitting walls, but I didn't. I looked down at my lap. I was close to screaming.
Elle put both hands on the counter next to me and leaned on her fists. "I don't know what to do," she said. Tears where in her eyes, and she was shaking her head as if she was giving up. "I'm going crazy, and I don't know what to do."
You can tell your parents, I thought. "I don't know what to do, either," I said. I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but I couldn't. Elle didn't notice. Elle never noticed anything that was happening to me. She was too busy worrying about her own problems, too busy sobbing about how that sixteen year old boy never actually loved her, or how all guys are scum because she's dated three of them that were the exact same. She was too busy worrying about things I warned her about, things she could have avoided.
Two girls stepped into the bathroom and Elle pushed away from the counter and turned her back to them. She folded her arms over her chest as I smiled awkwardly at the two. They checked their make-up, and then headed toward the door. One said on her way out, "Worship starts in a few minutes."
Elle turned back to me. "I don't want to go in there," she said.
"I want to," I said. I wanted to go to the high school service because I had other friends in it, other friends Elle was seemingly oblivious to. What I didn't want to do, though, was go in and sit in the back, in the dark, while Elle listened to her pop music and texted boys she didn't like. I didn't want to rip the ear buds from her ears, have her yell at me in a harsh whisper that people could hear three rows in front of us, and lose a battle I had no intention of ever winning in the first place.
"I don't want to," Elle said. "Please? Just once. We can go next week."
She'd said that last week.
I stared down at my hands. I thought about what she'd told me. I wondered if she wanted attention. I wondered that a lot. I needed to tell her parents, not just about this, but about everything else. I'd promised Elle a thousand times I wouldn't tell, but Elle didn't listen to me any more than she listened to her mom and dad. At the very least, her parents could put her in a home school and get her away from the drugs.
"Are you really hearing voices?" I asked.
"I wouldn't lie about that," she said. "Did you think I was lying?" she sounded defensive.
"No," I said. "I'm just making sure."
"You can't tell my parents. They'll kick me out. I'll get in so much trouble."
That was ridiculous. Drugs, boys; those were things you got in trouble for. Not schizophrenia.
"I won't," I said. "Let's go into the service." I pushed myself off the counter and grabbed my bag. Her shoulders slouched.
"But I don't want to."
"Then you don't have to." I was still angry. "I'm going to sit with Jamie. I can meet you here afterward, if you want." I didn't want to. I wanted to sit with my friends in the sanctuary, also. I didn't want to sit between Elle and her brother and stare at her mom and dad for an hour. I didn't want to think about all the things her mom and dad needed to know.
Elle held out for a long time, and I thought she was going to join me, but she sat back down on the counter. "Okay, see you afterward."
I left bathroom and stepped into the empty commons area. I glanced around at the couches and TVs and decided I wouldn't go into the service. Instead, I headed to the stairs and walked to the second floor. I roamed the hallway and glanced into the classrooms on each side. Teachers lead the adult Sunday schools from little podiums and with little power points. Doughnuts were on the tables. I found the Family Room, a class for parents with kids in elementary, middle, and high school. Elle's parents were in there with my parents. I thought about what I was doing. I thought about how I was betraying Elle and how, because of this, she would not want to speak to me again. I knew how she would respond. "My friend I thought I could trust betrayed me! Like everyone else!" I'd also promised her when we first became friends that I would always be her friend. Now I wondered if I still was. I didn't want to be. I wanted to worry about things I needed to worry about. I didn't want to worry about if she was high at any given moment or getting into a fight a North Side. Or doing both.
I leaned against the wall and waited. Every once in a while, the teacher's voice raised or the class laughed.
The class was thirty minutes long. I didn't want to stay in the hall for thirty minutes, but I didn't want to risk Elle seeing me. I went and got coffee from the coffee bar around the corner. I sat down and went through the trash in my bag. I refused to think about what I was doing. I refused to think about what her parents would say to her, although I knew. Her mom would yell about the drugs; her dad would try to protect her, but I thought if I told them about the voices, they would actually find help. They would send her to a professional. Someone who was better at helping teenage girls than me.
I convinced myself that the voices were the last thing I could handle. I decided that they were more serious than anything she'd ever told me before.
Finally, the class ended ten minutes late, and I stood up. My Styrofoam cup was empty. I stayed away from the door as the adults began to leave. I watched my parents step out and turn away from me. I waited for Elle's parents, and I kept waiting. They were the last out of the classroom, and it was well past time to make it to the sanctuary service.
I approached them with butterflies in my stomach. I'd never told parents that their daughter, who went to church and listened to them and hadn't done anything wrong since going to juevie months ago, was the exact opposite of who they thought she was.
They greeted me warmly, and I greeted them in the same way. Then I said, "I need to tell you something."
Elle's mom looked at me with a face that said, you sound too serious, but she smiled anyway and asked, well, what is it?
Elle's dad, who was large and looked like a teddy bear with gorilla arms, smiled and said, sure, anything!
I suddenly realized I didn't want to tell them. I realized I didn't want to be the one they associated with finding out about Elle's behavior, and I really didn't want to be the one they had to see every week and think about how, before now, I had been lying to them for years.
"It's about Elle," I said.
Elle's mom looked angry. Her dad looked at her mom and looked worried.
"What did she do?" Elle's mom asked. "Is she in trouble?"
I swallowed. My face felt heated. My church clothes were uncomfortable. I felt like I was ratting out my sister, not because Elle and I were that close, although we used to be, but because I was that close to her parents.
"She's not in trouble," I said. "I-- I just need to tell you that..." I glanced around. The hall was empty. I knew Elle and her brother were waiting for their parents just around the corner. I knew I needed to tell Elle's parents, but I didn't want to. "She told me that..." I looked up at her parents. Her dad looked from me to Elle's mom, and he leaned in anxiously. Elle's mom still looked a little angry even though I had said Elle wasn't in trouble. I swallowed and let my head drop. I couldn't do it. I told myself I wasn't able to. I told myself I needed to. I argued with my fear, with the feeling of betrayal in my chest.
I took in a deep breath. "Elle needs to see a therapist," I said.
"A therapist?" her mom questioned. Her voice was harsh, almost unbelieving.
I nodded, and before her mom could ask why, I blurted, "She said she's hearing voices."
I looked up. Elle's parents were silent, staring at me, expressionless. After a minute, I lost my nerve.
"She's doing drugs, too," I said. "And smoking." I wanted them to say something, but they didn't. I wanted them to yell, but they were silent.
Finally, Elle's mom said thank you. Elle's dad didn't say anything. Neither of them really looked at me as they moved passed. I turned and watched them as they rounded the corner to where Elle and her brother were. I didn't hear them say anything, and they didn't round the corner again on their way to the sanctuary.
I stayed where I was in the hall, and there was nothing but silence.
