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operating table. She and Peter lifted me up
very VERY carefully, and moved me over. The
bed got wheeled away, and Dr. Fuentes stood
in the space where it had been.
“Do you remember everything we talked
about with Mary Morrison?” he asked me.
I was still crying a little bit, but I managed
to nod.
“Chocolate Milk, right?” Peter asked, and
I nodded again.
Dr. Fuentes lifted a mask, just like the one
in Mary Morrison’s bag, and moved to put it
on my face.
“No, no, I’m not ready!” I said.
Patricia knelt beside me. Her face was so
close to mine, I could smell
her breath: minty, like she’d
just had one of the green
mint sucking candies we have on
