“No!” Panic takes over, and I drop everything in my hand to fight Colt off. I look down at my body, just to find myself completely naked.

All my clothes are in a pile at my feet, leaving me completely bare in front of him.

“Oh my god! Look at this freak,” someone calls.

My head snaps up, and I find the hallway filled with students and teachers. Everyone is looking at me, laughing and pointing at me.

Humiliated and exposed, I frantically try to cover myself with my arms, looking for a way out, while Colt stands in front of me, laughing the loudest out of the crowd.

“LAST STOP!”

My eyes fly open, and my fingers dig into the sweater draped over my lap as if the soft fabric could protect me from my bad dreams.

A fog of sleep and confusion is still heavy as I look around the now-empty bus.

“Last stop, miss,” the bus driver calls down the aisle.

“Oh. Sorry.” Scrambling off my seat, I grab my sweater and backpack and make my way out. “Thank you,” I tell the driver when I pass him. I only receive a grunt in response, but I don’t hold it against him. This was a long-ass bus ride.

It’s good to stretch my legs after getting off the bus, the third—or was it the fourth?—since leaving Grandma’s. I’m still not sure whether she was sorry to see me go or not. She said she was, but she didn’t waste any time getting me on the bus and walking away.

The weeks I spent with her were a nice escape from regular life. Sometimes, when Mom is in one of her really low moods, she looks at me like I ruined her entire life. And I guess I did, in a way. She wouldn’t have gone bankrupt paying my medical bills if it wasn’t for me getting injured so badly while I was training. She wouldn’t have lost her job, either. I needed round-the-clock care in the early days. I know I cost her a lot—much more than I can ever make up for.

At least the last few weeks were a break from the guilt, even if my grandma isn’t exactly the loving maternal figure most people picture when they think of a grandmother. Mom’s never been that way either, so I guess it runs in the family. But there was no guilt at Grandma’s, and she at least tried to make sure I was comfortable and happy while I was with her.

It’s over now, and I’m actually looking forward to spending a night in my own bed again. It might be small, and it might be in a trailer, but it’s mine.