Kimmie was now at the point where she knew in her heart of hearts what she felt the most was self-loathing. How could she have fallen for Vronsky’s charms so easily? How could she have believed that he loved her the way she loved him?

After a stop at the SK-II cosmetics counter, Kimmie tried once again to convince her mom to let her go home so she could sulk the day away. But once again her mom stayed firm and refused. “You need to eat lunch. Maybe your iron is low. I want you to eat some red meat. Are you on your period? How heavy is your flow?” her mom asked in her normal voice like she was inquiring about the weather.

“Mom!” Kimmie’s bottom lip quivered in an effort not to cry yet again. “Could you be more embarrassing? As if my life isn’t hard enough right now without you talking about my cycle in the middle of Saks!”

As Kimmie picked at the steak salad her mother ordered for her, she found out what Dr. Becker had told her mother in private after Kimmie’s exam. Dr. Becker wrote her a note excusing her from school for the rest of the week, which made Kimmie breathe a huge sigh of relief. He thought that perhaps Kimmie hadn’t fully processed her career-ending injury, and it was likely her current depression was her way of dealing with it. Dr. Becker had prescribed rest and recommended a few top therapists that specialized in adolescents.

“He thinks I need to see a therapist?!” Kimmie asked, her eyes wide with horror.

“Stop being so melodramatic, Kimberly, half the girls at Spence are in therapy.” This was an underestimation on her mom’s part, but that was beside the point.

“Please, please, please, can we not talk about this here? Let’s just wait and see what my blood tests show. I mean, maybe I have leukemia and I’m dying. Then wouldn’t you feel bad for making me go to a shrink? I’m sick, Mom, this isn’t in my head!” Kimmie felt a little ashamed about saying such a thing, but whatever. She just felt so tired. Who knew you could feel so tired at the age of fifteen?

“Mom, are you even listening to me?” she whined when she noticed her mother was texting under the table. How many times had she heard her mother tell her and her sister how rude it was to be on your phone during meals, and now she was doing the same thing? Kimmie knew her mom was distracted by her own love life, and for a moment Kimmie indulged in the mean-spirited wish that her mother was still a sad-sack divorcée. Perhaps then she’d be more empathetic to her daughter’s plight.