Page 37 of Small Sacrifices

When he turns his head towards her, Reid realizes he's been gnawing on his lip. It's only then that the sting of broken skin registers.Ouch.Okay, maybe everything is not alright.

"I'm going to Chesterton," he says, because that's the heart of the issue.

"Oh really? That's so cool!"

But Reid can't join her cheer. When he tries to smile at her, it only turns into a grimace. Marisol's face falls as she sees it.

"Not good?"

Reid sighs. This likely isn't a good idea. He can try to explain his apprehension to her—but will she understand? Most people don't. His parents don't. His sistersaysshe does, but the way she reacts and gets annoyed sometimes shows differently.

"Well, it's a great opportunity, and I'm happy about that. It's just that it's going to be exhausting, and I've never done anythinglike it, so I'm not sure how well I'm going to cope with it." His lip wanders back between his teeth without any of his own input.

Marisol tilts her head. "Are you sure that's gonna be an issue? It'll only be three days."

Only three days.Reid wants to laugh. "I don't sleep well when I'm not in my own bed. And you know how I get when I don't have enough control over what happens in my day."

That's a thing people say, right?I need to sleep in my own bed?He's heard his mother say it, and the woman is very intent on being normal, so it must be.

The statement draws a mild snort out of Marisol. "Yeah. And this would be like that?"

"It would be worse."

He sees recognition in the way her eyebrows rise. "Oh. D'you wanna stay? Maybe you can call out sick."

The suggestion is tempting—one he hadn't considered. But it's not an actual solution. It won't help him prove to his parents that he can handle a job like this. He'll never get accustomed to these situations if he keeps avoiding them. But there's a catch, isn't there?

Who says he can ever get used to this kind of stress? He never adapted to the smell of cheap perfume, either. This trip could be a valuable test, or it could be a disaster. Everett has already seen him at a breaking point, even if he doesn't know what he saw. The next person to witness that might not be as understanding. They might even consider him unfit for the job, which would be a problem.

"No, I want to go."

There's a moment of pause. Then Marisol rolls her desk chair closer. "Well, can you plan for there not being a plan?"

Huh?That doesn't sound like it makes sense. She laughs at the face he pulls. "I just mean that you won't be able to plananything. But you also won'tneedto plan anything. Can the plan just be to do whatever Mr. Wright tells you to?"

The idea feels wrong, not least because Mr. Wright seems to be in the habit of expecting Reid to fulfill orders that haven't been given to him yet. It might work with someone Reid trusts. But he's not even sure that it would work with Marisol, so Mr. Wright definitely isn't cutting it.

"No," he says. "I can really just sleep well, medicate, and hope for the best."

Sometimes, he has good days—days where it feels like he's functioning normally. The lights are bright but not painful, the scents are strong but not overwhelming. On those days, he can thinkI want to do that,and then just get up and do it. But those days are rare and always catch him off guard. He can't rely on them happening.

Marisol's eyes widen. "Oh. Medicate like..." She moves her hand away from and back towards her mouth a few times, pointer and middle finger pushed together.

"No, smoking isn't for me. I have a prescription."

It's deliberately vague. One of the first things he learned at college, when he had first gotten diagnosed and finally had access to medication, is to never tell anyone he takes Ritalin. Ever. Because there are many people who ask to "borrow" some, like his prescribed meds are cigarettes. Or they would just steal it outright. Even now that he's out of school, Reid only ever carries what he thinks he might need for the day.

Apparently, that's not a problem for Marisol, though. She just nods and moves on. "Cool. So you leave early today."

"What?"

"Ask to leave early today. Make sure you sleep enough the night before you leave. Would that work?"

Honestly, sometimes Reid could kiss her.

Asking Mr. Wright to be allowed to go home early feels dangerous, like an admission of weakness that could damage his standing here. But to his surprise, the man immediately nods. "Good idea. You might be able to sleep on the plane, but you never know."

For a moment, Reid doesn't know what to do. It's disorienting that he doesn't have to fight for this, or to justify himself. "Thank you," he says. The pause is slightly too long, but Mr. Wright accepts it.

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