““He clears his throat, "Have you considered he sees you as a girl at school? Not all girls are whole when you meet them. Sometimes you have to help them get there. Right now, you are a broken girl. That doesn’t mean that you'll always be broken. That doesn’t make you less of a girl." He clears his throat again, "I'll call the doc. She'll want to talk to you." The tears in my eyes don’t come out. They stay in there like tiny kaleidoscopes, trying to make the world the way I need it to be. My words don’t come right away either. I don’t hear the click on his end when I whisper, "I'm not broken." But he isn’t there. He never really is. He is the master of not being there.””
