I shoved my unfinished homework into my backpack, then went to brush my teeth. In the mirror, a girl with messy, chin-length hair and too-long bangs, bloodshot brown eyes with dark circles under them, and cracked lips stared back at me. I looked down at my toothbrush: there was a hair on it. I threw it away and leaned over to get a new one out of the cabinet. While I was searching, I found a headband I used to wear all the time when I was younger. I’d never wear it now, but I tried it on, wishing I could text a picture of myself to Colette because I looked hilarious, but I couldn’t because we weren’t friends anymore. I left the bathroom, dropping the headband on the floor.

I pulled my hood up over my bedhead. From the mini-fridge in my room, I got out the milk, then made myself a bowl of the single brand of cereal I like in the world. I checked my TwisterLvr feed and read about an EF2-category tornado that’d happened in Birmingham, Alabama, the night before. I didn’t check my other social media anymore because I didn’t want to see all the pictures of Colette and her other friends.

I got my jacket and left. I wanted to ride my favorite yellow beach cruiser to school, but it wasn’t where it was supposed to be, so I had to walk. Only a minute or two into the walk, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

MOM

Do you have your backpack?

I turned around to get it. At the door, Mom held out the pack in one hand and a protein bar in the other. Her dark hair was in a tight bun that looked uncomfortable. I patted the top of my head.

“Don’t forget to eat it, please.”

“I won’t,” I said, turning to leave again. She was always reminding me to eat. She didn’t remind other people to eat—just me. I guess maybe I needed to be reminded sometimes, but it was still annoying.

“I don’t want you to get hangry,” she said.

Did you know that the word hangry is officially in the dictionary now? It is. I looked it up.

“I’m old enough to know when I need to eat,” I complained.

“Yes, at thirteen, you are old enough,” she said in a way that made me think she was trying to make a point. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes,” I said, not totally sure whether I had or not. “Bye.”

“Have a great day, Frankie! I love you!”