Chapter 22c: Graduation

As I leave the mess hall, the ringing is still in my ears.

It can't be helped; it is a stupid little tradition around here for the kids who wrap up the treatment they came here for. Ugh.

They want us to consider this party as a positive note after having experienced the bad things that brought us here.

Screw that.

All I see in this is uncertainty.

Change.

Where the hell am I going now?

I'm pretty sure I can't move in with Setsuka; I haven't heard from her since the phone call and from what the therapist told me, he isn't supposed to have let me talk to her to begin with.

The fact he bended the rules just a little after Setsuka's sister-of-circumstances called - Jenny, that's her name - was mostly because that girl pretty much begged him earlier in the day. And, to quote the man, 'because I thought it would be good for you'.

I take the silly little party hat off and squeeze it into a crumpled ball of paper. Such nonsense.

Where the hell am I going to go?

Can't go back home. Dad is still in his coma. And even if he woke up, I wouldn't want to live with him as long as mom isn't there. And she wouldn't be.

Pfft. The crumpled party hat goes into the trash, bouncing on the wall before landing with practiced accuracy. It is too easy when they put those things in the corner like that.

As if he'd wake up. Rather, why don't they just pull his plug? Let a man have his final rest and such. I bet he'd be happier.

"You're way too wound up for a graduate, you know?"

The one that snuck up to me from behind is Miss Meadows, our drama teacher. I force a faint smile as I turn around, shaking my head whilst coming up with an excuse.

"I just wish my sister could have been here."

"Oh, that's some flowery bullshit you spout, Cain. You're not the first kid to graduate who can't return to the way things were. You are thinking about what comes next."

Ah. Right. They've seen it all, haven't they?

"Fine. But I still wish she'd been here. She loves cake with jam. I usually give her mine."

The woman laughs softly at my statement.

"I suppose it is a better place than putting it in the garbage where you tend to leave your desserts after dinner, hmm?"

I roll my eyes, staying silent this time. There's no escaping anyones eyes around here.

"But in fact," she continues, smiling at me whilst holding out an envelope, "I was here to give you this. Want me to paraphrase the contents?"

There is half a mind in me that wants to tell her to shut up and that I'll read it myself. I'm not in the mood for the type of flowery, supportive mothering she takes to outside of her classes.

Whatever I decided, I took too long to decide on it, because she just continues to talk.

"It is an invitation for you to stay here for one more school year. We've currently got quite a few vacant rooms, and if we reach an understanding that you remain as an outstanding student others can take an example to, we'll continue to give you room and board here. You'd attend everything save for the therapy sessions; you have gone through yours already and there are some privacy and guardianship concerns for us to worry about now that you aren't an official patie.. participant anymore."

She pauses a moment as she looks me over. She no doubt sees me crack a smile. That's the best news all day.

"It's just governmental rules. We can't just give treatments to a minor who is also under our temporary guardianship. No matter how much we believe you'd still benefit from it, there are separation of concerns that we really need to keep in mind. Even this extra year is just an amendment to the law that exists specifically to serve as a transitional phase to avoid passing you around as a hot potato until a permanent solution is in place."

I snort softly, rolling my eyes. "Isn't that why you should be looking for permanent solutions before I even graduate?" I answer with a cocky grin, and it leaves the woman to frown just a bit at my attitude.

"Well, your situation is special. Nevermind that breakthrough you had with your therapy; usually there's a more linear progression of improvement that lets us get a better estimate of when you'd be leaving. Half a year ago, you had made no progress despite already exceeding the 6 month treatment plan for you. And a few months ago, you suddenly perform like a Mr. Perfectly Adjusted Teenager."

She laughs. I laugh. But I don't think either of us thinks it is funny or amusing. She is prying. And I don't want to answer.

"I was finally motivated for the future. That's all."