I'm aware that the story is starting to drag slightly--I have a few things planned still that I'm trying to work in, though. So bear with me while I get it figured out.

Thanks, as always, for the reviews.

XXVIII

Spinner left--finally--and Ellie barely had two minutes to herself when her parents entered. She immediately sensed trouble, and not just because they both had very fake smiles pasted on their faces.

"Hi," Ellie said, her voice wary. This was not what she needed right at that moment.

"How are you sweetie?" Her mother didn't bother to speak at all, and she dropped her smile almost immediately. Ellie realized that her dad had more than likely dragged her there.

"Fine."

"Oh, you're fine are you?" Mrs. Nash finally broke her silence. "You're fine after your little outburst the other day? I've had it up to here with you, Eleanor."

"Mom..."

"No. Shut up for once. I'm sick of all this drama. I give up. Your father and I are separating. He didn't have the guts to tell you. Thought it would be too upsetting or some shit like that. He's weak, that's all it is. Just like you. Weak!" It was then that Ellie realized her mother was drunk. As usual. She was surprised it hadn't occurred to her earlier.

Mrs. Nash was suffering a full-blown tantrum now. She grabbed a lamp and threw it across the room, and the ceramic base shattered. It was enough to bring the security offers running. They quickly escorted her out of the room, and Ellie was, to her relief, left alone. Mr. Nash had followed them to try and calm down his wife--or, Ellie guessed, ex-wife. Her mother had always been reliant on her dad.

A moment later, Dr. Cavanaugh entered the room, and Ellie lost control. "Damnit, why can't you leave me alone for once? I'm supervised every second. When you think something upsetting happens, you come running, hoping to goad me into talking about it. I'm sick of this place. I'm sick of you and seeing your arrogant face every time something goes wrong in my life. Leave me the hell alone."

Dr. Cavanaugh, of course, did not. She took her usual seat and waited until Ellie finished her tantrum. It didn't take long, and Ellie immediately felt rather sheepish, but would have rather died before admitting it. Of course, she would have rather died than many things, but that was irrelevant.

"I'm not getting a great impression of your home life," Dr. Cavanaugh ventured. "But is it an accurate one?" Ellie waited a long time, then nodded. It took the doctor slightly by surprise. Ellie had been adamant for so long about not discussing it that Dr. Cavanaugh had grown to expect it.

"She's drunk almost all the time," Ellie said quietly. "When Dad used to come home, she would stop, but now they just fight. They try to hide it from me, or at least Dad does, but I'm not stupid, and I know that a lot of it is over me. Dad yells at her for not being a good mother and she yells back that he's abandoning us. This isn't the first time they've threatened divorce. But usually it's Mom threatening it and never meaning it. She needs Dad. He's everything to her. I'm just the unfortunate byproduct of unprotected sex, and of course the maid. She makes a mess when she's drunk then if I don't clean it up, the next day when she's sober, she thinks I did it. And then when she found the condom, she just lost it."

Dr. Cavanaugh furrowed her brow. "You and Sean...?"

"No. Well, yes, but not this particular time. Um, Spinner and I."

The psychiatrist raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but you and Spinner don't exactly seem... right for each other."

"We're fine." Ellie was immediately defensive, desperately trying to convince herself that Dr. Cavanaugh was wrong. "He's sweet. I like him, he likes me."

"Like? What about love? As cliched it may sound."

"We're fine. Yeah, love, whatever. We love each other. I know what I'm doing, okay? I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were. But tell me, Ellie, when you two are together, how do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"I can forget things, okay? I can forget what's going on in other aspects of my life. That's what love is. Forgetting everything else when you're with the other person." Ellie looked around the room, focusing on everything but the psychiatrist.

"Spinner wants to take you out for an hour or two," Dr. Cavanaugh said. "Convince me it's not a bad idea."

"I need a break," Ellie said. "I'll behave myself. I'll promise not to hurt myself. I want out of here, even if it's just for a short time. Please."

The doctor considered her words, then nodded. "I'll see what I can do," she said. "No guarantees. And if I have your permission, I'd like to talk to your father--not about anything you've said to me, of course. Just to get his take on the situation."

"Fine," Ellie said impatiently. She didn't really want to agree, but she thought it would give her a better chance of getting out of the place for awhile, even if it were with Spinner. She mentally corrected her statement to 'especially with Spinner,' even though she had an idea that the first version was much more accurate.

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Sean, despite his best efforts, had retained his role of Romeo. He didn't know half his lines, but that was okay because Sunny seemed more than content to whisper them in his ear. He had wanted to do a more humorous version of the play, but Sunny vetoed that idea, preferring to kiss poor Sean every chance she got. Sean was less than amused.

He'd been mentally kicking himself ever since calling Ellie. He wished he'd stopped himself and saved them both the pain of the whole event. He hated himself for hurting her, and he missed her. Knowing that he couldn't have her had intensified his desire.

He still spent his lunch hour alone in a bathroom stall. He hadn't made any friends in Wasaga and didn't intend to. Friendship took an energy he didn't have. He was having a difficult enough time as it was staying up to date in all his classes.

He knew he was withdrawing. He'd never been a social creature, but he barely spoke now, and certainly never initiated a conversation. Mlle. Deslauriers had been the first to notice it, and although she spoke her concern, he brushed it off with a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders. She was aware of what had happened in Toronto, of course--everyone was--but beyond that, no one had any idea what was going on.

His father had a hunting rifle, which he had discovered when looking for old pictures one day. He'd been feeling particularly sentimental, hence the images, and froze when he saw the gun. He hadn't ventured into the room since, and, in fact, stayed out of the house as much as he could.

And he knew that he had gotten most of what he'd come for. He'd dealt, some, and it would soon be time to go home. Toronto, he'd discovered, was more of a home than Wasaga had ever been.