“Hey!” The kid’s voice is high and squeaky, and I realize he’s a lot younger than I thought, maybe thirteen or fourteen at the most. His face is baby fat and pimples. “What’re you doing?” He sounds scared. Of me. Like I’m a monster; something that might hurt him, someone I wouldn’t recognize if I looked in a mirror. Our faces are only a few inches apart, and I see tears spring to his eyes behind his thick glasses. My breath hitches.

“May.” Lucy’s hand is on my shoulder, pulling me back from the kid. “May, what the fuck are you doing?” She leads me a few steps away. The kid stays frozen for a second and then takes off down the hallway at a sprint. As he’s about to leave the building, he calls over his shoulder: “Psycho!” My jaw clenches tight and I back up against the wall, against the solidness of the building, trying to ground myself, psycho ringing in my ears.

Lucy tightens her hand on my shoulder. I realize I’m shaking hard. Even with the sturdiness of the wall behind me, it feels like the world is shifting: rising and falling with my every panted breath, knocking me farther off balance, dizzy and confused. The pressure of Lucy’s hand doesn’t help, not this time.

“What was that?” Her voice is calm but has an edge to it that’s all too familiar.

“Nothing.” I shake her hand off and drop to a crouch, head in hands. “Nothing! He hit me. I…He…should have apologized.” I can barely get the words out; they stick hard in my throat, and once they’re out of my mouth, they sit in the air between us, heavy and wrong.

Lucy drops to her knees next to me and brushes a stray hair off my forehead the way she used to during all those months I would barely leave my room.

“Hey.” I don’t want to look at her. “May. Look at me, please.”

I finally concede.

She cocks her head. “Dude. I haven’t seen you get this aggro in months. What’s the deal? Is it being here? Coming to see a band play? I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that when I asked you….”

I take a couple deep breaths, try to slow my racing heart. My hands are balled so tight that I wonder if all the tiny bones in my hands might break. “No…it’s nothing. I’m fine. I’m sorry.” I drag myself up off the floor and she follows. I’m trying to shake it off and be normal and not ruin her entire night, like I’ve done more times than I can count over this past year.

“I’m fine,” I say again. Lean back against the wall for a moment.