“Don’t you dare leave!” she commanded, but I heard the door slam and the car start.

Elise squeezed my wrist.

“I don’t have any of my things.” I looked up at the ceiling in the direction of destruction and madness. I wanted her to leave but I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone.

“I have clothes. And a spare toothbrush.”

“Okay,” I finally said.

She put an arm around me, lightly, as if she didn’t want to scare me away. As if I were fragile, and I guess I was. As if I needed protection, and I guess I did.

I followed her out and she pulled the door closed silently behind us. Together we slipped away into the night.

MONDAY // SEPTEMBER 12 // DAY 3

12.

After we left my house that night, Elise never brought up what she’d witnessed. She didn’t ask about my parents, or look at me the way Melody would whenever I deflected questions about my family, like she was worried about me, like maybe she pitied me.

That’s what I loved the most about Elise from those first days. She made me feel safe. She understood what it was like, having to keep part of yourself hidden.

At school, we discovered we only had two classes together. I gravitated toward her in both and sat next to her, sharing small, secret smiles. We walked to lunch together after fourth period World History and I tugged her along to Melody’s table.

“This is Elise,” I said, sitting down and dropping my backpack onto the floor. “She just moved here.” I introduced Elise to Melody and two other friends, Danielle and Anjali. They were really Melody’s friends, and the three of them did almost everything together—all honors and APs, Speech and Debate, soccer team, National Honor Society.

“Hey,” Melody said. Danielle and Anjali glanced up with polite smiles.

They were nice, always trying to include me in everything they did, but I wasn’t really like them. I didn’t get straight As, or give up my Saturdays to teach little kids how to read. No one ever said it, but we all knew they kept me around because of Melody, and Melody kept me around because of how long we’d known each other.

The only two Asians in kindergarten, we glommed onto each other and became best friends. But over the years, our interests diverged. Melody had still never been kissed; Cameron was my third boyfriend. Melody got special permission to take AP Chemistry early; I was in only two honors classes and had racked up a grand total of zero APs.

Even though our school system grew more diverse over the years and we were no longer the only Asians in class, Melody was loyal and stubborn, as persistent in her friendships as she was with building her resume, and that, along with our shared history as outsiders, was why I liked her.

“So where are you from?” Mel asked Elise.

“Chattanooga,” she answered.