We walk in silence for a while, and I can’t stand it.

“My parents died in that tsunami in Malaysia. Both of them.”

I see the weight of my truth settle on him. But instead of getting awkward, he looks at me—really looks at me.

“That is one of the most fucked-up things the universe could do to someone,” he says.

The absolute most right thing to say. I’d give him six stars for that.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“I shouldn’t have sold it to you,” he says quietly.

“Jesus. Don’t give me your pity—trust me, I have enough of it. I just need something to get me through senior year. That’s all. And if you tell anyone I told you—”

“That would be a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality,” he says, with a half smile.

I give him a long look. “Are you actually a nice guy?”

“Total hardened criminal. But I have a soft spot for brunettes.”

“My hair is actually black. And I have a boyfriend. In LA. In college, actually.” It feels important that he know because he’s flirting with me and I suddenly feel guilty because I want to flirt back. I miss Micah so much.

Drew whistles. “A college boy. Are your dates at the library?”

“Very funny.” I point to the caf. “I’m gonna grab some food before sixth period.”

He nods. “I’ll see you around, Hannah.”

I head to the bathroom and don’t make eye contact with anyone as I hide in a stall. I gulp down a little blue pill with some water from one of the metal bottles Mom sold at her studio. It says ALL WHO WANDER ARE NOT LOST. This water bottle doesn’t know shit.

I wonder if Mom and Dad can see me here, now. They’d be so disappointed. Ashamed, maybe. My eyes fill and I press my hands against my lips to keep the sob in, to hide it behind the gossip and the makeup sharing and the I need a tampon-ing of Saint Francis’s largest female-identifying bathroom. I’m the last to leave when the bell rings, when it’s quiet and no one will talk to me.