Chapter 6
A rattling of the doorknob—I’d locked it—then a panicked pounding on the door: Josefa. “Lanie! Qué pasó?! Déjame entrar, déjame entrar!”
I swiveled towards the door, my wet feet slipping on the porcelain. “I, uh, spider!” How the f**k did you say spider in Spanish? “Spider muy grande!” What were the chances she’d believe me? I kept babbling. “Climbing on mi pie. I, umm, squished it, but I think it bit me.”
“Estás bien? De verdad?”
“Yeah.” No, not okay in the slightest—but I couldn’t tell her. I could see the progression clearly: a whole horde of disbelieving, concerned adults. Staring up at the cold, coffin-like inside of an MRI machine. A frowning doctor tapping notes into a computer. A nurse handing over a psychiatrist’s business card to my dad, my mom’s face drawn and worr
