Another morning. I don’t want to go to school. I can’t. I would rather die. They’d rather I die. I scratch at my arm with my fingernails under the covers, hard. Did I do something? Did I give Aidan the wrong idea? Was I flirting? Oh God. Forget. Remember.

I hear Mom in the kitchen, humming happily. She calls to me, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

The sun is pushing hard on the edges of my blinds. My eyes are swollen. I drag myself out of bed, carefully choosing clothes that have passed my inspection for stains or smells or strangeness that might draw attention. I sniff the pits of my shirt, convinced that they’re right, I am repulsive. I shower and scrub myself raw, hard, red. In the mirror, my arms and legs burn, alive, my eyes puffy.

I stare at my blotchy reflection and try to wish my life away.

Pete knows something is up. He pulls me aside when the bell rings.

“Hey, kid,” he says.

“Hey,” I say, my head down.

“Listen. I know that some kids are giving you a hard time about, well, your videos. I hear there was a trans-positive one? And you know, I gotta applaud you for that, but I don’t want you getting any heat. I know that this is affecting you as well, and I’m sure you meant well. I didn’t see it, or any of them, honestly—but Lottie mentioned it.”

“I took it down.”

“Yeah, she was pretty upset that you put it up there. She said that’s why you’re not coming around. But don’t let that bother you. She’s going through some stuff. Give her time, okay? I mean, kids are talking, and Lottie figured they knew the video was about me. A couple of kids have said some stupid stuff to her, but they’re just scared of what they don’t know. I’ll talk to all the students soon.”

I grunt and look away so I won’t cry. A few quiet moments pass. He pats my shoulder.

“So … anyway, come with me.”