Excerpt from The Memory of Light by Francisco X. Stork, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I have to go now, Nana."

"Don't cry, my little baby. Everything okay. You see."

The call ends. I lie there for I don't know how long, my hand on the telephone, as if I'm afraid to let go of the voice that flowed through it. It is possible, I realize, to have people in your life who love you and who you love, and to still want to kill yourself. It's almost as if part of the reason you're doing it is for them, because you are not worthy of their love, and you want to stop being a burden to them, contaminating their lives with your moodiness and grumpiness and miserableness. I feel Juanita's love now. I even feel Galileo's love. And it makes me feel so much worse.

There's a gentle touch on my shoulder, and I let go of the phone and look up to see Dr. Desai.

"My cat," I say.

She sits down in the chair, her hands folded.

"He meowed outside Juanita's room and took her to my room."

Dr. Desai doesn't look one bit surprised, as if in her experience, saving lives is standard cat behavior.

"I'm glad your cat saved you," she says. "Are you?"

"No."

The word rises up on its own, a lone air bubble from some drowning breath. It surprises me to see it there, floating on the surface between Dr. Desai and me. She nods as if she appreciates the honest answer. "Vicky, I'm going to recommend that you stay here for a couple of weeks, if it's okay with you. I think it would be helpful for you to be in a different environment for a while. You can come to our daily group therapy meeting. There are three other young people currently attending, and it would be good for you to be with others ... like yourself, in many ways. You and I would also meet regularly, and a few hours of your day would be spent helping around the hospital. I believe this combination of talking, listening, doing something useful, and being around other young people who are learning to live will give you some tools you can use when you return to your previous circumstances."

"Tools?" I imagine a hammer and a chisel, my life inside a boulder I need to crack.

"A greater understanding of who you are and what you need to do to be at peace with your life." She pauses. "At the very least, a time for the thoughts of killing yourself to quiet down."

I look up at her quickly.

Excerpted from The Memory of Light by Francisco X Stork. Copyright © 2016 by Francisco X Stork. Excerpted by permission of Arthur A. Levine Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.