What an accomplishment. A round of applause, everyone!

He keeps his fucking trophies on the mantle in the living room, you know, next to the key to the city and our perfect little family photo.

Ask me if I’m smiling in it.

He comes from at least a century of a fuck-ton of money which means we’re basically untouchable and that I have to have a sorry-ass smile on my face whenever I’m out in public because the last thing I need to do is make the great McCree family look bad.

I’m pretty sure I’ve made one mistake in my whole life—I ate candy in public, and my dad got mad because my tongue got all red before a press conference.

Yeah, that was it.

That was my one mistake.

Forget smoking weed, getting drunk in public, and wanting to develop a serious addiction to anything that will help me escape. How would I even find the time at this point in my life?

Everything is perfect.

Literally everything.

Except it isn’t.

The only thing I have going for me is that everyone thinks I’m this untouchable asshole prick who sleeps in a different pair of Jordans every night just because he can.

The guys want to be me.

The girls worship me.

And I’m set for life.

Blah, blah, fucking, blah.

So, why do I want to jump off a ten-story building and see how fast the blood leaves my body every single time I have I walk into this high school?

I need to be done with it—with all of it.

God, I can’t wait until college.

At least then I can have a tiny bit of separation from the pressure of it all. I force another smile as I walk into English Lit and take my seat in the back corner next to the window, where I spend at least an hour watching birds fly around and thinking how fucking jealous I am that they’re outside and I’m inside.

At least I have lacrosse practice after this, and I’ll be allowed outside of prison.

I’m paying basically zero attention when my phone starts blowing up. I frown down at it and see a group text from some of my teammates.

Mel: Bro, you holding out on us?

Astin: I mean, seriously—how lucky are you? Fucking prince of potato town and all that.

Me: I have zero clue what you guys are talking about.

Mel: Bulllllllllshit. I just saw the article. Byron sent it over like two minutes ago.

Byron Big B has been added to the conversation.

Astin: Bro, tell him!

Byron Big B: Dude, you’re getting a new roommate! Or shall I say, princess? And I agree with the guys, bullshit you didn’t know. I mean, it’s all over the afternoon news; twitter’s blowing up with pictures of her and your parents all over town.

Me: She? Who is she? And what the hell are you talking about?

They send me a link to an article. I click on it just as one of the office aides knocks on the classroom door and lets themselves in with a note for Mr. Stick-up-his-ass, also known as my English Lit teacher—Mr. Wilder.