“But before that…” She pauses for a beat and I look up at her. She smiles. “Well…like I mentioned earlier, I’m actually going to audition for a new band.”

I squeeze her arm. “That’s awesome!” I force enthusiasm into my voice. It’s not an emotion that comes easy these days.

“Soooooooo…will you come with me? Please?” Lucy begs.

My stomach drops. I haven’t done anything remotely social in almost a year, and this sounds like it falls square into the events-that-take-place-outside-of-my-bedroom-and-with-strangers category. Which I am not into. At all.

But it’s Lucy, and Lucy has done everything for me these last eleven months and asked for almost nothing in return. So I nod.

“Of course I’ll go with you.” I glance at the other faces at the table and catch Chim’s eye. She’s down at the other end, flirting with some girl I vaguely recognize. She shoots me a quizzical look, and I shake my head and bury it in Lucy’s shoulder.

Lucy says, “Thank you. Look, I know it’s hard. Coming back to school. Seeing these people. It was for me, and for you…” She trails off. “I know you hate this, but I have to ask. How are you doing?” She sounds so concerned, and I feel the immediate need to pretend. Pretend, pretend, pretend it’s all okay—that’s what my parents taught me; that’s what I’ve always been good at.

But when I pick my head up to meet her eyes, I just want to cry.

Stop it.

I look down and study the top of the table, drum a rhythmless beat on my jeans, repeat the phrases that the therapist told me would help—calm calm, safe safe, blah blah kill me blah (well, that’s a modified version of them, at least).

“You hungry?” Lucy knows better than to push the mushy stuff, thank god. She holds a pretzel in front of my face. I take it and start nibbling.

I shrug. “Not hungry. Just want to find a corner and curl into a ball and disappear.”

She shakes her head. “Seriously, May. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“The day?”

“The day, the year, everything. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but try to take it day by day, at least for the next few weeks.”

I can’t help but smile. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Trying to indoctrinate me with all your AA slogans. A day at a time, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”