Love Drugged (22 page)

“Is that true?”

He tapped the bottom edge of his bruised eye with his fingers. “Dude, she thinks you’re a loser. She says you try too hard.”

I didn’t respond.

“Haven’t you noticed she’s always picking on you?”

“I … I thought maybe she had a crush on me.”

“Then you are one clueless clown.”

I had to agree with that. I felt like a complete idiot. First I’d mistaken Anella’s distance for indifference, and now Mimi’s meanness for flirtation. It struck me that I had developed a dangerous habit of seeing things the way I wanted them to be, rather than as they were.

Weirdest of all, Mimi wasn’t
my
favorite person, either. She’d teased me ever since our first lunch together, and now it turned out she honestly meant every bitchy remark she made. What a colossal waste of time. It was like I’d been constantly gift-wrapping myself for a person who never, ever wanted what was inside the box. Why had I
ever
tried to get her to be my friend?

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Wesley asked. He looked away, down the hallway toward the exit doors. “Don’t tell me you’re in trouble too.”

I stood and picked up my books. “I am, Wes. Big trouble.”

He swung back around to face me. “What kind?”

I bit my lip. After all that Wesley and I had been through together, I still couldn’t tell him my secret. I wasn’t ready.

I whispered, “The thing is, I can’t talk about it right now. But as soon as I can, I’ll tell you everything.”

“You better.”

“I will.”

“In the meantime, what are you going to do about it?”

“Excellent question,” I said, rising to my feet unsteadily. My stomach felt queasy. I needed to get out of there fast, before I joined the wretched ranks of those who had puked their guts onto that cursed ground.

twenty-three

The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur of dizziness and head congestion. I hid out in bed, barely able to breathe. I was afraid to blow my nose in case more of the scary brown glop came out. This wasn’t normal or common, despite what Dr. Gamez might claim.

My dad offered me cold medicine.

“Take one, kiddo,” he insisted. “You’ll feel better in twenty minutes.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I just need rest.”

“Quit whining, then,” he said, pulling my bedroom door closed behind him.

The truth was, I was afraid to take any other pills. I didn’t know how cold medicine might interact with the Rehomoline. And since I didn’t know Dr. Gamez’s personal phone number, I had to wait until I could sneak over to their house and talk to him in person.

One thing was clear: I needed to get off the pills. It didn’t matter what Dr. Gamez said. I didn’t want to keep taking them, waiting for them to start working for real. True, I didn’t feel attracted to Ivan anymore, or to any other boy. But I also didn’t feel attracted to Celia or to any other girl. Not the way I should have. How long was a person supposed to wait for a drug to start working? I missed the excitement, the obsession of attraction. I used to think about sex all the time. Now I felt numb—maybe the way Wesley felt on his Ritalin. For the first time, I could understand why he’d wanted to stop taking it.

I lay in bed, staring miserably at the ceiling. In the past, I would have jumped at the chance for a lazy day with nothing to do. I would have listened to music, re-read favorite books, watched a movie. But even these old pleasures had lost their appeal.

My cell phone rang. I looked at the number.

Celia.

I answered uncertainly. “Hi.”

“Why aren’t you at school?”

“So … you’re talking to me now?”

“Answer the question.”

“I’m sick.”

A pause. “Sick again. There’s a shocker.”

I sniffled, as if supplying evidence. “Thanks for the sympathy. I have a cold.”

“And I have about two seconds before the bell rings. Here’s the deal. I just found out that my aunt is going to New Mexico this weekend, visiting Rudy.”

“Good for her.”

“She asked me to stop by her condo to check on Abuelito.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Cool.”

“So,” she said slowly, as if giving me time to catch up, “I was thinking that maybe you could go over with me, and we could … be alone for a while.” Her tone was unusual, half flirty and half impatient. “It’s the opportunity we’ve been waiting for, right?”

“Celia,” I said reluctantly, “you know I’m allergic to cats.”

“So you’ll take a pill or something.”

Please, no—for the love of God, no more pills!

“Maybe we should wait and see how I feel this weekend.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Celia, let’s talk about this in person. Not over the phone.”

“I need to go.”

“Celia,” I said, but she had already hung up.

Immediately, I knew. The next time we saw each other face to face, we would break up. Either she would say it, or I would.

Let her say it.

The thing is, I loved everything about her—her confidence, her humor, her brain, even her beauty. She was the most interesting, exciting girl I’d ever known, and the most fun. I just didn’t want to have sex with her. The pills were taking too long, and Celia was going crazy in the meantime. It wasn’t fair. I knew she would hate me. Most of all, I would miss her as a friend.

I felt nauseous, sicker than ever.

I got out of bed and went to the kitchen. My grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table, going through a stack of utility bills.

I put my head down on the table and groaned.

She laughed. “Melodramatic, as usual. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

I mumbled, “I can’t sleep.”

Hello? I haven’t slept in four months.

“Get back in bed. Miracles can happen.”

I lifted my head. “You know what? I don’t believe in miracles anymore.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Do you?”

She ripped a check from her checkbook. She stuffed the check into an envelope, grinning a little as she licked the flap. “Yeah, I do,” she said.

“Why?”

“I see them happening. Look right here, it’s a miracle we can pay our bills every month.”

“But miracles like in the New Testament? Or in your book of Bible poems? I don’t buy it. I think they made that stuff up to convince people that Jesus was God’s son.”

She breathed heavily, as if annoyed. “Let me put it this way. Do I think that at the wedding at Cana, Jesus really changed water into wine? Well, that seems like magic, and I don’t believe in magic.”

“So you admit, they made that stuff up.”

“Not exactly. I think that Jesus had such a loving presence that the people didn’t
need
wine at that wedding party. They had just as much fun with water, because of Jesus’ company. The water became like wine, because they were all so happy.”

I wasn’t convinced. “What about the loaves and the fishes? Jesus was so loving while he was preaching that people didn’t get hungry? I doubt it.”

“Who knows? Maybe Jesus’ preaching was so effective that people were inspired to share what they had. Maybe people went to their homes and got more food to share, in the spirit of the sermon. And in that way, a tiny bit of food became a whole lot more.”

“Maybe.”

“Jamie, think of miracles as changes in
perception.
All those stories about Jesus healing blindness—it’s such a powerful metaphor. What were these people blind to? Their selfishness? Their ego or fear? Jesus showed people a way to be happier in their lives. And yes, I do think that kind of miracle happens. More often than you might expect.”

“So you’re saying, for example, that Mom and Dad’s business failing is only a matter of their perception?”

She seemed to choose her words carefully. “I’m saying that if they changed their perception, maybe they would understand what they are
supposed
to be doing to make money.”

“And my not being able to sleep is just a matter of changing my perception?”

“Who can say? Maybe you’re not
supposed
to be sleeping. Maybe you’re supposed to be doing something else. You don’t appear very tired to me right now. You seem unhappy and crabby, as you have for several months. And it wouldn’t be the first time in the history of the human race that a teenager felt that way, so I’m not exactly in a panic about it.”

“Thanks a lot.”

I got up from the table and went back to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I sat on the bed, taking big breaths to fuel my frustration. Nobody ever understood how I felt. It didn’t seem fair for her to sit there and talk about miracles happening through changes in perception when her goddamn medicine cabinet held enough pharmaceuticals to heal the whole goddamn neighborhood. Obviously she wasn’t relying on a miraculous change-of-perception to keep
her
healthy.

I filled another two tissues with black gunk. Then I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and snuck out through the bedroom window.

Running past the Bound & Ground, I noticed it was dark inside, all the lights off—odd for a weekday afternoon. Then I saw the red “For Sale” sign posted in the window. Rita sure didn’t waste any time. She was taking her chance on love, all right.

I pushed through the iron gate of the Gamez property and jogged up to the front door. I entered the security code and walked in. I no longer felt like a trespasser. After spending so much time there, I felt like I finally belonged. But the school day was over, and I knew that I risked seeing Celia. I went straight down to the lab.

Dr. Gamez looked up from his desk when I knocked. “Good afternoon, Jamie,” he said. “You are not expected today.”

“This isn’t working. I’m sick.”

“Yes, I can hear you have a cold.” He stood up and came around the desk to me. He placed his hand on my forehead, then behind my neck. “No fever. Just a cold, I suppose.”

“May I?” Boldly I took the handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket. I blew my nose—a satisfying, wet honk—and handed it back to him. “Here’s the latest problem.”

When he looked into the handkerchief, his face made an expression that would have given me some pleasure if it weren’t so alarming.

“I see.”

“And I still have the blurry vision and the aching muscles. And I still can’t sleep. And I don’t think any of this is
ordinary
or
normal.
The drug is causing it.”

“A logical conclusion.” He returned to his side of the desk and sat down. He opened a drawer and pulled out a folder of notes. “A new drug goes through many generations before it’s ready for the general public. We change the dosage, alter the formula, improve the
taste
, even. It’s common for early stages of medicine to have minor side effects.”

Those words again:
common, minor.
“I don’t think of these side effects as minor. What is that
freaking gunk
coming out of my nose?”

He was writing notes. “Unclear. Harmless, I assume. It looks like a combination of coagulated blood, mucous membrane, perhaps cerebral fluid.”

“
Brain
fluid?”

“Please, calm yourself. Jamie, you understood all along that the drug would affect your brain. That’s what it is targeted to alter. Not your knees or your toes, for goodness sake.”

“But when will it make me … attracted to girls?”

“What do you mean?”

I sank into the chair across from his desk, nearly in tears. “Dr. Gamez, so far, the pills have only made me less attracted to boys. When will they make me more attracted to girls?”

He looked up from his writing as if surprised by the question. “Never.”

“Never?”

“That’s not the purpose of this drug. Listen to me now. Months ago, when we first discussed this, I told you exactly what the drug was designed to do. I compared it to a pet-allergy pill, remember? This drug is intended to diminish an unwanted response to a very specific stimulus.”

I nodded, recalling the conversation.

“And it appears, from your experience, that the medicine is successful in that effort. Your libido seems to be virtually numbed.”

“But …” I choked, “I thought … I thought they would make me attracted to girls, too.”

He folded his arms. “Then you were mistaken.”

“So I won’t ever be attracted to girls?”

He smiled reassuringly. “A different pill, maybe, in the future. That is the wonderful promise of medicine. If there is a large enough demand for it, then a pharmaceutical product naturally will be developed. You must not give up hope for that.”

I wiped my face with my sleeve, embarrassed to be crying in front of Dr. Gamez. “You misled me about the drug. You made it seem like a miracle or something.”

“In the eyes of many people around the world,” he nodded, “it will be a miracle.”

“But you encouraged me to date Celia. Wouldn’t you say that was a little misleading?”

“Be reasonable. Would I have let you spend so much time alone with my daughter, both here and at a romantic resort in Mexico, if I honestly thought you would try to
screw
her?”

His crassness stunned me into silence.

“I need you to be quiet for a moment, Jamie, so I can think of something to give you to decrease the loss of cerebral fluid.”

“Not necessary.” I pushed the chair away from the desk. “I’m done with the drug.”

He sighed impatiently. “We won’t have that conversation again. You need to continue to take it until we have arrived at a satisfactory formulation of the medicine.”

“No.”

“Really?” He took a breath, and for the first time he raised his voice. “Then I have no choice but to have you arrested for theft and thrown into juvenile detention. Your family will go broke trying to secure your release. I will see to that.”

I leaned forward, wanting to hit him or strangle him. “Do you want your daughter to learn what you’ve been doing? That you’ve known all along that her boyfriend isn’t really attracted to her? Don’t you think that will make Celia a little bit angry? Seriously, I’m not taking another single pill.”

He glared at me. “When I first met you, you may recall that I complimented you on your powers of observation and your sensitivity, not your intelligence. Are you willing to risk the side effects that will come if you abruptly stop taking the medicine?”

“What side effects?”

“Ones that would make the minor discomforts you’ve endured so far seem like a day in the park.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you foolish enough to take that risk?”

I leaned back in the chair, nearly shaking with anger. He was right. I had no idea what withdrawal from the pills might be like. I was already freaked about the weird fluid leaking from my brain.