The bell rings then, and Fina and I have to go our separate ways. The echo of our lunchtime laughter sits in my belly for the whole afternoon.

I’m not exactly sure I believe what Fina said about why people stare at me, but for the rest of the day, I think about it. And I wonder.

The next day, I get called on in social studies to answer a question. And in English, I raise my hand when Ms. Singh asks someone to explain the difference between mood and tone.

Both times, I get the answer right. Both times, nobody acts like there’s anything weird about it. A couple kids turn to look at me while I talk, but most just keep looking bored. Nobody gasps or laughs or whispers. I’m just a kid getting called on in class.

For the first time since Edie’s text, things feel kind of normal.

That is, until I go to the bathroom during fifth period.

As soon as I open the door, I hear someone crying in one of the stalls. I have déjà vu, and I know exactly why. The crying girl is barricaded in the same stall I hid in after Fina showed me that text.

The girl stops crying when she hears me come in. A few seconds later, she blows her nose and flushes the toilet. Then she opens the door.

If you had asked me this morning who would end up crying in the bathroom later today, I would have definitely said me.

I would not have put my money on Edie O’Shea.

She stops dead when she sees me, staring at me with red, puffy eyes. For a few seconds, neither of us says anything. Edie walks to the sink and washes her hands, then splashes water on her face.

“I know it’s stupid to ask you,” she says quietly, looking at her own reflection instead of me, “but could you just, like, not tell anyone about this?”

“Um, okay,” I murmur, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

Edie shoots me a weird look, either a grimace or a kind of failed attempt at a smile, and leaves without another word.

As I walk back to class, I can’t stop thinking about how seeing her crying in the bathroom is kind of like seeing a fish flopping on dry land.

Unnatural.

By the end of fifth period, I’m still so busy thinking about it that I don’t even notice Austin barreling through the doorway into the computer lab right as I’m trying to get out.

We knock into each other, and he spirals away from me, lifting his hands to his chest and making a face. Like if he touches me, I’ll burn him.

But it’s my cheeks that are burning. And there are at least ten people in the hall watching.