Chapters (44)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Julie Murphy
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
Clem looks up from her phone. “He’s not wrong.”
Dad looks to Mom, who eventually shrugs.
“Two days,” he says. “No more.”
“And no more fake sick days,” Mom says. “The only way you’re missing any more school after this before graduation is if you’re on your deathbed.”
“Morbid,” I say. “But deal.”
I spend the next two days trying and failing to make homemade facemasks out of eggs and avocados after reading a BuzzFeed article titled “30 Ways to Make Self-Care Happen on the Cheap.” I do, however, try and succeed in finishing what episodes I had left of The Great British Baking Show. Mom and Dad also put me to work cleaning out the pantry and organizing Mom’s extensive collection of Tupperware. It’s not the glamorous two days chock-full of indulgence and mindlessness that I’d imagined, but it’s better than the alternative. And I manage to elude Clem and her Very Important Discussion about Our Future. I’m so angry with her. I want her with me always and I want to push her a million miles away all at once.
When I finally go back to school, I walk in with my head held high, flanked by both Hannah and Clementine. I may not know Hannah very well, but I’m thankful to see her waiting for us in the parking lot.
Deep breaths, I tell myself, prepared to face Patrick Thomas at any moment, but Hannah and Clem walk me all the way to Mr. Higgins’s class without a single incident. There is some pointing and staring, of course, but by far the worst of it is making eye contact with Tucker Watson when I walk into class and remembering the sting of his disgust the other day. Like it’s not enough for someone to not like you—they have to be disgusted by you too. Is it because I’m fat? Gay? What is it, Tucker? Whatever. He’s just another person I’ll leave behind one day when I get out of this town.
I sit down, this time as far as I can get from Tucker, and moments later, Alex settles in next to me.
“Oh my gosh,” he says. “Are you okay? Kyle said you didn’t respond to his texts.”
“Is he surprised?” I ask, not bothering to hide how annoyed I am.