Very could recognize she had a problem. Sure. No problem to acknowledge the problem. She was too attached to technology and had let that problem get an eensy bit out of control. But was she an addict? Too heavy a label, IVHO (In Very’s Humble Opinion).
“I’m really going to miss you guys,” Very acknowledged to comrades Erick and Kate. Needlepointing with them had been the highlight of her days at ESCAPE so far. It kept her hands occupied, and she could talk with kids her age who understood and had been through similar experiences. It was like college, without all the thinking. Kind of awesome, and with better cookies and fair-trade coffee. “How did your reintegration go?” Very asked.
Just before leaving, residents who’d been cleared by Dr. Joy were allowed a night out on the nearby town, to begin the process of integrating back into the Real World.
“Scary,” Erick said. “Everybody in town looked … green. It was like a swamp of human algae. I wanted to be sick.”
Kate said, “We walked by a 7-Eleven and I almost freaked out when someone came out of the store holding a Big Gulp.”
“But you didn’t freak out?” Very said hopefully. “You were okay?”
“I managed,” Kate said.
“You’ll be fine on the outside,” Very said, not sure of that, but wanting to reassure.
“You’ll be fine on the inside,” Erick reminded Very.
“We’re really going to miss you, too, Very,” Kate said.
Kate smiled sexily at Very, then over to Erick.
Erick smiled sexily at Kate.
Erick’s and Kate’s sexy gazes both circled back to Very.
“Final celebration?” Kate asked.
Erick gulped. Like he knew what maybe was about to be proposed. All that sexual-tension-by-needlepoint, about to approach its crescendo, in flagrant disregard of ESCAPE’s “no fraternization” policy, which no one followed anyway, judging by the condom stash that could be found buried under the mattresses at most cabins.
Very’s body tensed anew.
Danger. Danger.
There would be no three-way, no thought of a three-way, no dalliance whatsoever. The poison girl would not strike these young lambs.
Very leapt to her feet. “Good luck out there in the world, guys!” she said. She had to get out of this scene before she caused more trouble. No matter how attractive her fellow coeds were—and they were hella attractive—Very’s celibate loins would not be tempted. She’d made that promise to herself, and she intended to stick to it. “See you in the morning for a final goodbye.”
“I guess you and I will have to frame our pieces to hang on Jones’s wall without Very’s help,” Kate sighed to Erick.
“Disappointing,” Erick said.
Back in her cabin, alone, Very sat on her bed and fondled the One Week medal she’d received that morning at breakfast. Dr. Joy—and pretty much everyone else—said the first week was the hardest. If you could make it through the first week, the rest would be smooth sailing, relatively speaking (and Sunfish only, please, no thoughts of powerboats).
Very indeed felt a small sense of accomplishment. She hadn’t achieved anything in a long time, not since getting into Columbia, and once there she’d gotten involved in so much online hustling that she’d stopped trying to do well at academics. Her only accomplishment her whole time at Columbia, Very realized, was that she hadn’t alienated Lavinia so badly that Lavinia had abandoned her. That, and her wicked parties. And, Very had cocreated The Grid. That had been a rather cool thing she’d pulled off, even if it didn’t count as an accomplishment. (Did it?)
Why hadn’t Lavinia abandoned her? Very would abandon Very, if she could.
She was a complete fuck-up. Very would admit that about herself without hesitation.
Very looked over to the 12 Steps chart that a previous resident had needlepointed and left framed on the wall of her cabin. Obviously Very wasn’t an addict, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the steps a thorough read and take stock of whether any of them legitimately applied to her. The primo party girl had nothing better to do, since she’d opted out of the campfire night.
Step 1—We admitted we were powerless over our addiction–that our lives had become unmanageable.
So okay. Step 1 applied to her. Before coming to ESCAPE, her life had become unmanageable. She couldn’t survive the pressures of school; she’d alienated her friends; she was in love with an online rogue who probably didn’t even exist! She’d brought on an information overload that had finally crushed her. She’d done it to herself. And it hadn’t crushed her because she wasn’t strong enough to take it. It had crushed her because it was just too.fucking.much. Sensory malfunction. Beep beep beep. Systems crash.
Step 2—Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Very wanted to be restored to sanity. The problem was, she couldn’t be sure she’d been sane to begin with. She loved her mom, but Cat had been iffy on the sanity scale. And Very didn’t have the luxury of knowing about the paternal half of her DNA. Was Very genetically predisposed toward crazy and didn’t even know it? And if that was the case, maybe Step 2 had some merit, and she indeed needed to call upon a higher Power to steer her through. Very didn’t know for shit how to do it herself.
Step 3—Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God.
Very had never been introduced to God, so she didn’t feel comfortable turning her will and life over to Him. But if she could think of Step 3 as an algorithm, perhaps it could work.
If God is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship Enterprise, then Very could turn her will and life over to Him.
No, that imagery made her too hot. Nix that one.
If God is the luscious-voiced Ella Fitzgerald, then …
That one could work. Very could willingly give herself over to the Great One, her favorite singer ever. God could be Ella—hella yella yeah.
Praise be and give Very back her iPod already.
Step 4—Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Well, duh. Had Very been doing anything else at ESCAPE? Not really.
The “fearless” part sounded kind of egotistical, but the “moral inventory,” yes, that part was crucial, and helpful, and Ella would probably agree that Very could use a lot more of that activity.
Step 5—Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
Are you there, Ella? It’s me, Very LeFreak. I hurt other people because of my problem. But maybe I hurt myself most of all. Shabba dabba deeba doo?
Step 6—Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
Ella, if I’m being honest, it pisses me off that the word “defect” has been introduced here. I like machines, but I’m not an alien. My parts are all in order. I just need a little tuning up. I resent the word “defect” being thrown into the equation, on behalf of myself, and all other might-be addicts of any race, sex, orientation, religion, etc.
Step 7—Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.
Ella, here’s the truth. I do need help. I am lazy, and irresponsible, and selfish, and I curse too much, and I’d subsist on Red Bulls, Doritos, and chocolate chip cookies if I could. I prefer the virtual world because the real one is hard, and cruel, and scary, and I don’t know if I have what it takes to make it on my own. I’d like to do better.
Step 8—Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
This was an easy one. Very loved lists. She’d put Bryan at the top of the list, then Lavinia, and maybe Aunt Esther because Very had been such a handful of a niece for an old lady to be stuck taking on. Also, there was that girl in kindergarten who lent Very her Barbies because Very’s mom wouldn’t let her have Barbies; that poor, generous girl who’d gotten those Barbies returned with their hair cut off and feet amputated deserved an epic apology. Very had given Dreabbie and Dean Dea
n some grief, too. Add them to the list. Plus, that boyfriend in high school whom Very swore she hadn’t cheated on but she totally had, and …
Cat. Her mother. Cat should probably jump ahead of Bryan to number one on the list.
Very had been the reason her mother had gone into the downward spiral that ended her life. But her mother was gone; it was too late now for Very to make amends to her.
This hurt worst of all.
Step 9—Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
She was cut off from technology right now, but when she was released, Very decided, she could do this. Make amends to those she still could make amends to. Send some sorry e-mails to the people who mattered.
Or tell them herself.
Maybe.
Step 10—Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.
Very would think about that one later.
Step 11—Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God’s will for us and the power to carry that out.
Ella, when you know what I’m supposed to do, please send me a sign. I know you can’t do it through my iPod … yet … but I’ll be waiting to hear from you. And hear you.
Step 12—Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
Very didn’t know what kind of messenger she’d turn out to be once back on the outside, but—Hallelujah, Miss Ella!—perhaps she had indeed experienced a spiritual awakening.
“Addict,” Very said aloud. She spoke only to herself, alone in her room.
Miraculously, she didn’t melt away and die from the utterance.
Instead, Very fell asleep, exhausted. And relieved.
CHAPTER 25
To usher in Very’s second week at ESCAPE, Keisha suggested they discuss what had ushered Very into ESCAPE to begin with.
“Microwaved Chewy Chips Ahoy! cookies,” Very told Keisha. “They brought about the Fall of Very.”
“Tell me more about that,” Keisha said.
“I’ll need some M&M’s,” Very said.
“Today I have chocolate peanut butter cups.” Keisha held out a box from a proper candy store. She opened it up to reveal rows of peanut butter cups.
Very took one and popped it into her mouth. “You own me now,” she told Keisha. “You’re not playing fair.”
“So tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Well, I think I figured something out. I was friendly-ish with two people my age here, Kate and Erick—maybe you met them?—who just left. And I was so determined not to become truly intimate with them. I don’t mean in the sexy way—though believe me, it occurred to me. I mean, in the really good friends way. We talked and all, and had a lot in common, but I really tried to hold back from becoming friends with them. To the point that, as they were leaving, Kate slipped me a piece of paper with her and Erick’s e-mail addresses, and I tossed it in the trash as soon as she couldn’t see.”
“Why?”
“To protect them from me! The whole reason I landed here to begin with is because of fraternization.”
“What kind of fraternization?”
“Well, you know how I told you about my friends from the dorm at Columbia? How my friend Bryan and I had created The Grid together for other students to use as a private networking forum?”
“Yes. You originally said you felt like Bryan’s destroying your laptop was the catalyst to your ending up at ESCAPE. Do you still feel that way?”
“Yes, but it’s bigger than just that one incident. The Grid we’d created together—it was a pretty powerful feeling, to be honest. To be in control of that universe. And to share that with him. But I let it break apart when I slept with Bryan.”
“You slept with Bryan? How did that come about?”
“It was Spring Break. Most everyone had gone away—you know, all the rich kids with parents who can afford to send them on fancy vacations. And I was sort of bored, and lonely….” Very couldn’t bring herself to discuss the El Virus longing that had factored into what happened that day. She didn’t know why, but El Virus was the one part of herself she didn’t want to share with Keisha, who was already privy to so much of Very’s personal life. “There was always this tension between me and Bryan. I knew he liked me as more than just a friend, and I really wanted to like him that way, too. He was so puppy-dog cute. Like, you just wanted to take him in and play with him and cuddle him. But what happened between us—in all honesty, he might have just caught me at a really horny moment. Sorry to be so crude. Especially when I just referenced him as being like a puppy. But that’s how it was. There wasn’t this big buildup of sexual tension between us, at least on my part. It was just like he walked into my room when Lavinia was gone, at the exact moment I was wanting to be with someone. And I let him in, and everything fell apart after.”
“How so?”
“Because he wanted to be in a relationship, and I didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I just had no feelings for him that way.”
“What way?”
“The way, you know, I’d felt with Kristy. That buzz of excitement and wonder and wow and feeling completely alive. Even if it was hopeless.”
“Is that how you view love? As hopeless?”
“Not as hopeless, generally. But for me, specifically—probably.”
“My hope for you is that as you evolve in life, your opinion on the subject—and faith in yourself—will improve. But back to Bryan. How did the incident of his destroying your laptop play into your winding up here?”
“It wasn’t that, I don’t think. I mean, yeah, that incident ultimately caused me to lose it, but I’m trying to think harder about what came before. It feels like sleeping with him to begin with was what triggered a lot of messed-up shit in me.”
“Explain.”
“Sleeping with Bryan wasn’t just fooling around. It meant more. It was, like, real intimacy—opening a box that should have been left closed. That Pandora thing, you know? Bryan was a friend. He cared about me. We shared this online creation. And I treated him terribly afterward.”
“Are you saying you think you deserved his ultimate reaction—convincing your resident advisor to take away your laptop, then destroying it?”
“Deserved, no. But I was ready for a fall. Almost like I willed it to happen. In high school, you know, I had mostly been a star student. But when I got to Columbia, the pressure got so big. Everyone there had been the smartest kid in their high school. It was like I had to create The Grid just to stand out. And it wasn’t just academic pressure. The pressure of simply surviving on my own was tremendous. I mean, I’d gone from losing my mom to landing on the doorstep of an aunt who was practically a stranger to me, but her home had been nice, and safe—but it was just a bubble, maybe. Suddenly, at Columbia, truly on my own for the first time, it felt like I was flung into a life that was much harder and more demanding than I’d expected, with no one, really, to help me, and on top of that, at a school that’s in a city that’s really exciting but also that’s really, really hard. The pace was too much and I couldn’t survive financially and …”
Keisha handed Very the candy box again. “Whoa, sister. Take a breather.”
Very nibbled on the chocolate, but set it down quickly. She pondered a moment more and said, “It’s like I never had a landing pad. I just flew from thing to thing, always by the seat of my pants, but never stopped to take stock, or deal.”
“How did Bryan fit into that?”
“I guess I used him like a landing pad. A safe and convenient one. But the wrong one. And I don’t want to do that anymore. Land in the wrong places, and hurt good people in doing so.”
“I think that’s half the battle,” Keisha said. “Acknowledging the problem, dissecting it
, and then trying to make a conscious choice to take better actions in the future.”
“Should I throw a party to celebrate the realization?” Very asked. “Because that’s what my old self would have done.”
“You tell me,” Keisha said. “I thought you were resolved not to make friends here. Who will you invite?”
There was only one person Very would want to invite, she realized.
Wasn’t Lavinia just up the road? So where the hell had she been, anyway?
CHAPTER 26
Yoga made Very fart and burp too much, and she was too ADD for meditation, but the laundry thing had some possibilities, at least as random contemplative, spirit-cleansing time went. It got her clothes clean, too. Bonus.
At Columbia, Very had typically taken her laundry to a nearby wash ‘n’ fold place to be done for her—an expensive habit, but the Laundromat took credit cards, so it seemed cheap, almost as free as that first week of school when Lavinia did Very’s laundry. (By the end of the week, Lavinia had copped to Very’s texting and video game habits, and consequently made the connection that the wrist problems Very purported to have that would hinder her coin-operating, washing-and-folding abilities, in fact, would not whatsoever.) But at ESCAPE, not only was Very required to do her own laundry, but she was required to use an old-fashioned washboard and wringing contraption that took forever, and made her arms sore and tired. And yet it was strangely satisfying work.
To Keisha, Very had confessed, “Bryan said I was robotically attached to my machinery and had no personality beyond my electronic props.”
Keisha responded, “Ouch. Do you think that’s true about yourself?”