“Hello, Anna.”  I smiled shyly and sat down on the rather cliché couch before the happy doctor’s desk.  She looked like a perfectly pleasant woman with wispy gray hair and a flowy, flowery dress.  She also didn’t smile too much.  People who smile too much always have something to hide.

            “Good afternoon, ma'am.”

            “You can call me Hilda if you like,” she replied in a whisper.  I couldn’t help but laugh; she was funny.  She wasn’t writing anything down, either.  “So, we’re going to be friends, now, aren’t we?  Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself and why you agreed to see me today?”  I shrugged and nodded, looking rather longingly to the soft pillows.  I’ve always been a terribly lazy person.  “Go ahead,” she laughed, “lay down.  Everyone does.”  I smiled and fell back against the sofa.  I immediately made a mental note to have one ordered for my room.

            “My name is Annabelle King and I’m seventeen.”  I took a deep breath.

            “Very good,” she muttered jokingly, and I glanced over to see now she was writing.  Well, whatever I had to say must be important, I thought. 

            “I like your glasses.”  Hilda smiled and tapped the thick-rimmed spectacles.

            “Thank you.  Go on.”

            “I go to school.”

            “That’s good to know.  Do well?”

            “Very well.  I don’t get straight A grades all the time, but I do well.”  She scribbled something on her desk.  “I play piano and clarinet, but I don’t take lessons for the piano.  I’m pretty good at the clarinet and I go to competitions and stuff.”

            “Do you like music?”

            “I love music,” I sighed, staring at the very plain ceiling above me.  They should put a picture up there if everyone lays down here; it’d be something to stare at.  “If I had the determination, I’d be a musician when I grow up.”

            “You sound like a very well rounded young girl.  What about your friends?”

            “I have a lot of friends,” I mumbled, trying to answer each thought as honestly as possible, “but very few are really close.  I really prefer to be by myself, but not all the time, I just need to be alone sometimes.”  There was a lot of writing, and I looked over at Hilda to see if something was wrong.  She looked up and leaned forward over her desk.  “Am I allowed to tell you their names?”

            “Of course,” Hilda immediately replied, “I won’t tell anyone you talked about them.  It’s against my policy.  You can tell me anything.”

            “Gwen is probably my best friend.  She’s really like another type of me, if people come in different types.  Just who I would if I grew up in a different home and were a brunette.” 

            “Is she your only friend?”  I shook my head.

            “No, I have a lot of friends, remember?”

            “Oh…” she murmured, “I’m sorry.  I do.”

            “Gwen and I hang around Lisa a lot, but I don’t think I’d ever do anything with her if Gwen wasn’t there.  I mean, I’m just weird like that.  I’m sort of a sidekick.”  Hilda chuckled and set down her pen.

            “You seem like a perfectly confident person to be someone’s sidekick.”  I shrugged again and half-smiled, the idea of being a lackey was new to me as well.  Being in a real office really did just open you up.

            “I know.  I can be a really good leader, really…I just know when to fall back if there are too many chiefs and not enough Indians.”  There was another short pause.  She was nodding and writing again.

            “So, tell me about your other friends.”

            “They’re not that close to me, I mean, I grew up with them, but we don’t do anything outside of school.”

            “Not those friends, Anna,” Hilda softly corrected, “the ones no one can see.”  I quickly looked to her.  She looked very stern and serious.  I sat up on the couch and frowned.  “That’s why you’re here, Anna,” she continued, “because you talk to yourself, but now we know you aren’t talking to yourself.”  I dropped back, angry.  She couldn’t make me tell her about that.

            “Everyone talks to themselves.  My mother does it all the time.  Half of the time I have to ask her if she’s asking me a question or herself.”

            “I don’t think you have a problem, Anna,” Hilda said, ignoring me, “but I think you could if you don’t tell someone why you do this.”  I was getting annoyed, and while I was usually laid back, I was getting annoyed that I was annoyed.

            “I’m not hurting anyone!” I rapidly snapped, scowling.  “It’s not like I’m stupid or hurting someone or a threat to society!”  Hilda was quiet.  I hoped I hadn’t hurt her feelings, but then again, I’m sure she had seen much worse.  She stood from her desk and walked around to my couch.

            “Just tell me about them,” she coaxed, placing a warm, grandmotherly hand on my arm.  “You don’t have to tell me anything they’ve said or tell them you can’t see them anymore.”  I bit my lip, trying to decide whether I should.  I was afraid what might come out if I started talking, but even more, what I might discover.  “Anna?”  I sighed rather rudely and eyed the desk.

            “Can I have a mint, please?”  She smiled and reached over to take one.  I slowly grinned back and wrapped it.  “All right.  I’ll try.”