And then that thing happened where boys and girls get awkward and weird around each other and we stopped hanging out for a few years. I joined football and she went into every advanced class and we just didn’t see each other. In sophomore year, our groups started converging and there was a time when I thought maybe we could be best friends again. But then my Problem started up and there was something about Caitlin’s feelings that scared me. Even now that I’m more comfortable with the whole empath thing, there’s a sureness and subtlety to her emotions that I just do not get.

You’d think that knowing what people feel all the time would make you closer to them. But it doesn’t work like that. Instead, sometimes I feel this canyon between me and everyone else and I worry that, no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to reach across it.

As Mr. Collins drones on about The Aeneid, the tether of Caitlin’s feelings slowly dissolves and I have a moment to myself. I’m already regretting saying yes to the Sadie Hawkins thing. I’ve avoided all optional school events like the plague since the beginning of the year and I’m pretty sure that a dance will be a minefield of emotion. People being excited, disappointed, nervous, crushing on one another, drunk. There’s always that one group that shows up drunk, and I’m dreading it. I went to a football party a few weeks ago and a couple of the guys were drinking. It makes my Problem so much worse.

My personal time to wallow about this is apparently over, because I’m reassaulted by the dripping ooze between my ribs. It’s slimy and hot-cold and is simultaneously giving me nausea and heartburn. It reminds me of the sludge, but it’s not just disappointment—there’s an edge to it that I’m not used to. Though I’ve never felt this from him before—whatever “this” is—I know it belongs to Adam. Like always, it slots right into place alongside my own feelings, but this time, it weighs me down. I’m suddenly glad I didn’t try to talk to him.

Adam is definitely one of the quieter kids in our year. He keeps to himself, doesn’t participate in a lot of school stuff. Yeah, he can be a bit of a smartass sometimes, but he’s not loud. Unless he’s arguing with someone in class or giving a presentation, he doesn’t make himself known.

So why do his feelings keep making themselves known to me? There’s no canyon between us—I don’t have to reach. His feelings swell up like a wave, crashing onto my shore, pushing me deeper into the sand.