“We have to go,” I say, refusing to meet her gaze. An anchor ties itself to my heart, weighing it down to the pit of my stomach. Is it too much to ask for one single day without this? “We’re going to be late.”

“You can make time for this,” Ma says, tightening her grip until my bones feel brittle, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. “This is some stupid fantasy you’ve built up in your head, and you need to wake up—”

I pull away from my mom roughly, then tug open the front door and hop down the steps leading up to our porch without another word.

“Poppy, you’re being childish,” Baba says, appearing over Ma’s shoulder. He looks vaguely distressed as he scratches his beard, but that doesn’t garner any sympathy from me. Not when my wrist is red. “You say you want us to treat you like an adult, but then you continue to run from your problems.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice cold. I don’t know how they’re not tired of repeating themselves. I’m certainly tired of hearing it.

Silently, I hold my hand out for Anam to take as she slips out in the space between my parents, hurrying down the steps after me.

I’m halfway down the driveway when she interlaces our fingers, grinning at me. My mom glares from the doorway and my dad sighs, but neither calls after us, not for the fear of shame riding them too hard if our neighbors happened to overhear.

It’s always what will people say?

It’s never what will make you happy?

It’s not until we’re a few blocks down that I breathe easy, pulling my phone out of my pocket to check my notifications.

There’s two from my best friend, Rosie, complaining about the lack of snow, despite the forecast last night, and one from the film club’s technical director, Grant, asking about competition dates for the upcoming Golden Ivy Film Festival.

I grimace, wondering why that’s even a question, and Anam peers down at the screen, reading over my shoulder.

“You’re too hard on him,” she says, tugging on my hand once the traffic light turns red and we can walk across the street. Our neighborhood is relatively quiet, but as we move closer to the subway, the loud bustle of the city increases. “Not everyone is as anal about film club as you are.”

“Then he shouldn’t have joined in the first place,” I say, although I don’t really mean it. As co-president of the film club alongside Rosie, I’m grateful for every single club member. Even Grant.

Anam can tell, judging by the way she looks at me, but she humors me anyway. “Didn’t he have a crush on you freshman year? Maybe that’s why he joined.”