I’m almost to the house when a light comes on upstairs. I dart to the side, back into the darkness, heart pounding. This has never happened. I glance at my watch and realize it’s only nine-thirty—still early. I forgot to check the time before I left; it’s not like me to screw this up. This is the one thing I normally get right. I’m so done with this day, this week, this year. This life.

I clutch the side of the house, hiding in the shadows, watching the light. I’m trying to catch my breath, calm my heart, which I swear to god you can hear eight states east, and finally, after way, way too long, the light goes off. All my manic energy has drained out of me, replaced by an infinite loop of David’s words: It’s lonely here….It’s lonely here….It’s lonely here.

I drag myself back to my bag, sink to the ground, and rest my head on my knees. I allow one deep breath, then reach into my backpack and pull out my phone.

“Hey.” My voice cracks. I swipe at my nose, furious that it’s dripping, and try to swallow the lump in my throat. “No, no. I’m okay. I…” I shut my eyes for a second, “I think I need a ride. I’m sorry; I know it’s late. Can you come get me?” I pause, listening. “The Tellers’.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone. I talk through it. “I know what you’re going to say; I’ll explain everything, but can you just get here? I’ll be at the end of their street. Thank you.”

—

When Lucy pulls up, I’m leaning against a stop sign with barely enough energy left to remain upright. She lowers the passenger-side window and raises her eyebrows at the sight of me. “Need to put that bike in the back?”

I nod and she pops the trunk. A few seconds later, she darts around the side of the car with outstretched arms. “You get in. I’ll get the bike.” I nod again and throw myself into the passenger seat, desperate to keep myself together for a few more minutes.

Just a few minutes more.

Chapter Sixteen

Later, after our stupid family dinner, after everyone else has gone to sleep, I flick on the light in my bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror until all the parts of my face separate from each other and stop making sense.

Chapter Seventeen

Somehow, I’ve made it through almost two weeks of school without being kicked out or losing my mind (at least, not entirely). I’m not going to count that night outside Za—the Tellers’ house last week. It shouldn’t count. My freak-out was the result of a random fault line that I plan to avoid from now on.