Read Online The Evolution of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin - Free Book Online Page B

out.
    She led me down a different hallway that was sparsely decorated with unironic motivational posters. I kept waiting for her to say something as we passed different partitions within the space, but she never did. Awesome tour.
    “So . . .” I started. How to break the ice? “Um, how are you?”
    She stopped short and faced me. “What did they tell you?”
    Oh, boy. “Nothing,” I said slowly. “I was just making conversation.”
    Phoebe glared at me. Continued to glare at me. But just as I was about to scurry back to my parents, Jamie reappeared. He stood at attention.
    “I’ve come to rescue you,” he announced.
    “You’re not supposed to be here,” Phoebe mumbled.
    “Now, now, don’t be testy, Phoebe.” His eyes never left her, but his next words were for me. “Has Sam come back for you yet?”
    “Nope,” I said.
    “Then you have the next ten minutes free. Want to make them count?”
    I looked over at Phoebe; she was ignoring both of us. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
    “Is that a rhetorical question?” I asked him.
    Jamie grinned. “Would you like to join us, Phoebe?”
    “I’m busy.”
    His brows drew together. “With what, pray tell?”
    Phoebe didn’t answer. Instead, she sank down to the floor and stretched out like a plank. I found this to be highly alarming, but Jamie just shrugged.
    “There’s no point,” he said to me. Then, “Don’t forget Group, Phoebe,” before we headed out.
    “So where are we going?” I asked him.
    “Does it matter?”
    I followed him into an open area with sleek white leather couches. He swept his hand in front of him. “The common room. Where we share our feelings .”
    I sank onto a couch. I remembered meeting Jamie on my first day at Croyden; it wasn’t that long ago but it might as well have been a million years. He decoded the social hierarchy, he showed me around. I was lucky he was here.
    “What’s with the face?” he asked.
    “Was I making one?”
    “You were looking all wistful-like.”
    “Just a touch of déjà vu.”
    Jamie nodded slowly. “I know. It’s like we just did this.”
    I smiled, and looked at his bizarre T-shirt again. I tilted my head at the image of the ancient Greek Rockettes. “What is it?”
    He looked down and stretched the picture out. “Oh. A Greek chorus.”
    “Ah.”
    He leaned back against the leather couch and flashed a grin. “Don’t worry, nobody gets it.”
    “Mmm.” I cocked my head to the side, considering him. “It’s weird that we’re both here, right?”
    A noncommittal shrug.
    “Well, of all the behavioral modification programs in all of Florida, I’m glad I walked into yours,” I said with a smile. Then flashed a knowing look. “Must be fate.”
    Jamie stroked his chin. “A nice thought, but there aren’t that many. Not as swank as this, anyway.” He gestured to the sleekly blank room. “This is where the privileged send their screwed-up progeny; no gluing macaroni to construction paper for us.” He paused meaningfully. “They only let us create with ricciolini here.”
    “I don’t even know what that is.”
    “It’s very fancy, I assure you.”
    “I’ll take your word for it,” I said as teenagers began to file into the room. Jamie added a comment under his breath with each one. “Phoebe’s the psycho,” he said, when she walked in. “Tara’s the klepto, Adam’s the sadist, and Megan’s the ’phobe.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “And you?”
    He pretended to ponder my question. “The wise fool,” he finally said.
    “That’s not a diagnosis.”
    “So you say.”
    “And me?” I asked.
    Jamie tilted his head, considering me. “I haven’t figured out your fatal flaw yet.”
    “Let me know when you do,” I said, not entirely kidding. “What about everyone else?”
    He shrugged. “Depression, anxiety, eating disorders. Nothing fancy. Like Stella,” he added, nodding in the direction of a girl with strong features and curly black hair. “She could