Eight kids, counting Teague, are sitting, or lying on beat up chairs and sofas in the clinic lounge. He doesn’t dare look at any of them above the waist. He can hardly make himself breathe. It’s like facing off against a bunch of fighters in a ring. He knows they’re checking him out and trading smirky looks. Hanging with the devil in actual hell can’t be much worse than this. He’d rather be at the dentist. Or therapy. Oh right, this is therapy. It’s like he has no body. He’s a pair of eyes floating on the ceiling. Just when he thinks the situation can’t get sorrier, two hands land on his shoulders from behind.

“Settle down, guys,” Ryan says. “Our group has a new member. Teague is here for a year from New York. I’m sure you’ll make him feel welcome. Why don’t you go around and introduce yourselves?”

Teague wipes sweat off his face with his tee-shirt.

Two girls, five other boys say their names. Only the last guy looks at him; wow, he even cracks a smile. His name is Liam O’Shea. Teague knows a gamer and a stoner when he sees one, and Liam is both.

Now they’re supposed to talk. When no one does, Ryan puts the pressure on. “Do any of you have a situation from last week you’d like to share?”

“I do,” a girl named Emer says. “Me mum keeps trying to get me to eat even when I tell her I’m not hungry. I’m sick of it.”

A boy laughs and says, “Give it to me, then.”

“Shove it up your arse!” Emer yells back at him.

“Cut out the cross talk,” Ryan says to the boy who started it. “Emer, why do you think your mum is after you like that?”

“Because she doesn’t want me to die of starvation.”

“It sounds like this has turned into a contest of wills between you and your mum. Do you think you could move away from an all-or-nothing stance?”

“How do I do that?”

“You decide what you will eat and tell her. Then ask her to back off.”

“I’ll try it.”

“Good. Anyone else?”

God, he hopes Ryan doesn’t call on people. A kid sitting across from him is sweating and breathing hard. “Are you all right, Niall?” Ryan asks.

“I had to run the last mile to get here on time.” He keeps his eyes on the carpet.

“Did you get off the bus too soon?”

“I had no choice. She was evil.” He brings his head up.

“Who was evil, Niall?”

“A lady had her knives out for me; I had to get off.”

“I understand she felt threatening to you. But is it possible something else could have happened to this lady before she got on the bus, a spiff with her husband, that made her mad?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Her angry look could have been about that.”

Niall shrugs.

“Okay, let’s dive into this.” Ryan stands in the middle of their circle and gives them each a look. “Every human being gets paranoid sometimes. But for people with your symptoms, it can be harder to pull yourself out of it. So, listen up. There’s a simple trick you can use to deal with situations like what happened to Niall. It’s got three steps. First,  catch yourself. As soon as you start feeling scared, stop and take your feelings out of it. Just tell them to wait. You’ll let them have their say later. Put your mind in charge. Another word for this is reframing. You put a new frame around your experience by giving it a different meaning. The second step is to check it. Step into the shoes of that other person. What might be causing them to act or look that way? Might they have had gotten fired? Could they have a bellyache? Check out the possibilities and decide which is the most and least likely. The last step is to change it, meaning change your response to this person with a different action. Instead of getting off the bus, maybe turn around and replay something good that happened to you recently. Are you with me?”

Ryan makes it sound easy, but at least it’s something to do. “Now say it with me . . . Catch it. Check it. Change it.” It’s like gym class. Whatever. Teague plays the game.

“What do you think, Niall?”

Niall squishes his face like he’s thinking hard. “Yeah, she probably didn’t even notice me.”

“Great. I want you each to try this at least once during the week and we’ll talk about how you did next time.”

“Anybody else?”

Kiernan pulls both feet up on the edge of the chair, wraps his arms around his shins, and peeks out over his knees. “My asshole voice Arial came back.”

“All right, Kiernan, can you look at me?”

He squints up at him.

“First, I have to ask, have you been taking your meds?”

How embarrassing. Teague feels for Kiernan. He’s lucky if he can make himself take his Zyprexa every other day.

“Kind of.”

“Okay, you’ve told me before when you take them on schedule, your voices stay away. And like I’ve told you all, halfway is half-arsed. Was there anything else bothering you when Arial showed up?”

“Not that I know of. I was just sitting on me bed, chilling, listening to music, when he reminds me how God picked me to stop the evil ones. Why am I just sitting on my arse?”

“Did Arial identify who was doing the evil?”

That’s an interesting question, Teague thinks, as he considers the possibilities: Al Qaeda, a serial killer, a bully.

“No, I was supposed to know.”

“What did you do next?”

“I cranked up the music. Started babbling so I didn’t hear him.”

“Can I say something?” It’s Liam.

“Fine with me,” Kiernan says.

Ryan nods. “Go ahead.”

“If you hide from him, he’s just going to take advantage of you. Like any punk around here would do.”

Jeez. Liam sounds in charge. He’s a few years older, but it’s more than that. Teague wants whatever he’s got.

Ryan jumps in. “Liam has his own approach to voices that works for him. There’s no right or wrong way to manage your symptoms. Having said that, Kiernan, the first thing I want you to do is get back on schedule with your meds. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Kiernan’s just saying that. And Ryan probably knows it, too.

After group, Teague tells Kate he’s going to town. He’s tired of walking around but he’s more tired of people knowing too much about him. Asking about New York like he’s the chamber of commerce. They tell him about their uncle or cousin who lives in Staten Island or Albany. Like he should know these people.

He sits on the curb in front of the clinic, hoping no one will bother him. His bare feet on cool cobblestones feel awesome. He wonders how long they’ve been here. A hundred years? Five hundred? He’s just starting to relax when Liam sits down next to him.

“Howya?” Liam says.

“Doing all right.” Teague can’t help staring. Up close, Liam’s eyes have barely any color in them. His pupils are slits. Throw in his albino skin and orange hair, he’s got a real Leeloo vibe. Liam is checking him out, too. They’re like two magnets about to crash. Maybe because they’re the same kind of schizo.

“You got voices?” Liam says it as if he’s asking a normal question, like, You new in town?

“Not much anymore.” Teague looks away because he needs a break. “What about you?”

“Me and my voices have it all worked out.” He gets on his feet and turns his head to the side. “Don’t we? Ha! You’re right. It’s past time for a pint.”

To be polite, Teague looks at the empty space next to Liam who’s hunched over laughing. He’s probably putting him on, but Teague can’t be sure. Larry and Ivan never once said something funny to him. Maybe this is what it’s like when you make friends with your voices.

“Why did you come here with your aunt?”

“My mom OD’d when I was five and then Gran died. My step-grandmother couldn’t handle me anymore. That left Kate. She’s all right.”

“Hmmm. What label did they give you?” Liam’s got his hands on his knees, staring down at him.

“Schizoaffective.”

“Put you on Zyprexa?”

“Yeah.”

“I tried that shit. Turned me into a robot.”

Liam’s eyes won’t get off him. If he keeps it up, Teague’s afraid he’ll bust out of his skin like Plastic Man. “Yeah, the side effects suck.”

“If you ever want to get away from that shite, I can show you how. We meet up here on Fridays at five and go over to the castle.”

“Does Ryan know?”

“He knows me and some guys who used to go to the clinic have our own group.”

“Maybe.”

“All right. Later.”

Liam strolls to the corner. It’s not a regular human walk. He slithers from side to side like a snake, making jazzy moves, leaning forward and back, and somehow still going in a straight line. If he practiced every day, Teague could never be that cool.

 ***

“Group” is an  excerpt from Victoria Costello’s forthcoming novel, Orchid Child, about a tragedy-plagued Irish American family in which its youngest member, an orchid child, taps his neurodiversity and the ancient wisdom of his Celtic ancestors to put a stop to the chain of suffering that came before him.  (Between the Lines Publishing/June 2023).

Victoria Costello is a neurodiverse author, writing teacher, and mental health advocate living in Ashland Oregon.  Her newly published, debut novel, Orchid Child, is available everywhere books are sold. Read about her writing and upcoming classes for writers at https://victoriacostelloauthor.com.