Chapters (42)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Prologue
- Part 1: March
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Part 2: April
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Part 3: July
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Epilogue
- Also Available by Laurie Petrou
- Author Biography
“I don’t understand it all, but I get some of it,” Matthew says one day, into the silence of the room. He is not looking at me. He’s fiddling with the corner of a magazine on his lap.
I say nothing for a bit, and then, “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know,” he says, looking at me. “But we’ve known each other since we were little, Stevie.”
His eyes are so big and honest, and it’s all I can do not to start bawling, and then he says, “I’m your friend.” He looks away while I wipe my eyes, then opens the magazine and starts to read.
Ava comes, too. She’s always gone against the current, so I guess it’s not that big a surprise. She said, the first time she came, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know how bad it was.”
“I thought I had it under control,” I said quietly.
“They expect us to keep quiet,” she said, gripping my hand. “I get how you got there. God, I get so angry sometimes, too. I mean, I could never do that.” She meets my eyes, and I burn with shame.
Me either, I think, not knowing how I got there.
She continues. “But the pain. The anger. You are not alone in that. Half the world feels hurt and angry and we just normalize it. Girls are expected to just … keep going.”
She is more political than I am. She articulates things, wants to talk in solidarity, wants to defend me, or at least explain me. I let her, just so relieved that I have a friend who made it through. The best is when we just share a laugh, or play a game, when we don’t dig deep. When we are just girls. Just friends; that is all, and that is enough.
No one else visits me except Ava, Matthew, and my mom, and these days, that’s ok. Dad came at first, but I told him I wasn’t up for the visits, and he looked relieved. He calls every day, though, and we talk, and it is good.
I’ve become friendly with one of the nurses who isn’t giving me the freeze the way the others are. I know they’ve all read the news; they know why I’m here. They all have their own opinions; nurses are not a timid bunch. They’re not sure if I was trying to kill myself or everyone else.