harry.
"harry's a nice name."
"yeah."
why had he said yeah? now she must think he was conceited.
oh well. harry didn't really care. maybe he was conceited. maybe that was why he was being sent to counseling. to stop being conceited.
conceited, conceited, conceited. what a hideous word. ew.
harry willed his mind to stop thinking stupid thoughts.
"hazel-grace is a nice name too."
she smiled. "thanks-"
"i had a dog named hazel once. she got hit by a truck."
she blinked at him.
harry decided he should keep his mouth shut. and move out of the country. and also change his identity. to pablo. because that was just about the stupidest thing he'd ever said(and he said a lot of stupid things, so).
"did she die?"
he glanced up at her. "what?"
hazel-grace tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "your dog, hazel. did she die?"
he dropped his gaze back to his fingernails. "yeah. she did."
hazel wasn't the only one who'd died.
gemma had died too.
"my sister died," he blurted out without thinking.
she sat, cross-legged, across from him. she didn't say anything.
"and i kept asking the doctors, y'know?" he picked at the dry skin at the corners of his fingernails absently. "i kept asking them, just to make sure. i was like, because... i had to make sure she wasn't asleep or something. what if we buried her and she wasn't dead? and she woke up in a coffin underground? so yeah, i had to make sure." he bit down on his lip. "but they didn't like that. i mean, at first they were all nice about it. but finally they were like 'she's dead, harry. gemma's dead.'. and by their tone, i figured they wanted me to be okay with that."
still hazel-grace said nothing. harry took it as a chance to keep talking.
"so i was like 'but i can't be okay with that'."
that was partly untrue. he hadn't said "but i can't be okay with that". what he had said was a wild hodgepodge of screaming gemma's name while repeatedly shouting "no."
but he didn't want to tell hazel-grace that, so yeah.
"what did they say?"
"they kind of... told my parents that i wasn't okay with it, i guess. that i wasn't okay with anything." he paused thoughtfully. "that i wasn't okay, is basically what they said."
he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and was disappointed to see it was white. white ceiling, white walls. he really was beginning to hate that color.
gemma's room had been painted white, after she died. they took down her wallpaper and everything. it was so bare.
the hospital was white too, white lab coats, white floors, white beds.
how awkward, harry thought, glancing down at his green hoodie and jeans. he clashed. what a pity.
"i think you're okay, harry," hazel-grace told him with a little smile.
they told her to say that. because she's a counselor. harry looked into her eyes(they were a soft shade of brown, a really pretty color, wow...). she didn't look like she was saying it because she was a counselor, but...
