We all sit down at the table. Michelle Teller sits at the head, her husband at the other end. Zach has taken the chair between his mom and me, like a human buffer. There’s an awkward pause after we’re all seated, a small silence that digs into my core and twists my stomach into a knot, and then Zach grabs a bowl and passes it to me. I take it from him, thanking him with a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, and then hand the bowl to Mr. Teller, who dishes himself some food. Small talk starts. I train my eyes on my plate and force myself to eat the food in front of me, which is decent. I’d probably enjoy it, if I weren’t about to projectile vomit all over the floor.

Moments pass. They chat about…stuff. I can’t hold on to their words. The beat of my heart in my ears is too loud. I stare down at my plate wearing my best fake smile, the one I hope says I am just a random classmate of your son’s and there is nothing to see here.

But, as is my luck, my invisibility doesn’t last long. I’ve taken only a couple more small bites of food when I hear: “So, how do you and Zach know each other?”

My breath catches. I look up from my plate. She is staring at me, expectant. A parent asking her kid’s friend a normal question. I don’t know if I can do this—have an actual, real conversation with this woman. She’s connected to David in a way I can’t totally comprehend—she’s breathed the same air as him, sat across a room from him, looked him in the eye. A silence stretches between her question and my response, a painful silence that starts to eat through my skin and gnaw my bones.

Zach jumps in, trying to deflect her attention from me. “We know each other from school, Mom.”

“Ah.” She sounds surprised. She takes a couple deliberate bites off her plate and then turns to me again. “It’s just…you look so familiar. I thought I knew all of Zach’s friends. Have we met before?”

I shake my head. It’s beginning to seem quite possible that my voice has failed and I’ve been rendered permanently mute.

Zach responds for me again. “She’s new, Mom.”

My stomach flips. I wanted to get through this dinner without Michelle Teller finding out any details about me at all.

“Where did you go before?” She tilts her head like she’s really looking at me for the first time.

“Before?” My voice squeaks out, all high-pitched.

“Before QA? Where did you go to school?”

I start to speak—“I was homeschooled”—but Zach’s voice tumbles over mine.

“She went to Carter.”