“Well no, not all the time. But if you keep them with you, you can use them when you hear a triggering noise. It might help stop the downward spiral. They also make noise-canceling headphones, but I thought these were a little more discreet.”

I take the earplugs and put them in my pocket. I cannot imagine a scenario where I will ever let people see me using them.

“Lou, I know this all seems a little silly, but give it a shot. What can it hurt? Let’s get you in with the OT I know, and we can write up a plan. And if it seems reasonable to you, we can share it with your teachers. I promise they will be sensitive and will not divulge this information to anyone.”

I look into my teacup. No answers there. But I can’t keep running away from my problems. I won’t be like Mom.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try.”

Well is waiting for me outside math class just like on my first day. His nails are a deep plum color. I grin. It’s hard not to like a guy who makes you a playlist.

That is, until he holds up a sign that says APPLAUSE! in capital letters.

“What is that?”

“This is me, clapping loudly for your prodigal return. Get it?” He waves it around.

“Ha-ha.”

Well isn’t the one I’m worried about. He gets what it’s like to be an outsider. His dad treats him like that every day. It’s the thought of everybody else that makes me want to hide. I take a deep breath and order my feet to move.

Math and geography go exactly the same. No one looks at me, but I can feel them wanting to look at me. I stare at my desk, fiddling with the purple earplugs in my pocket. At lunch, I convince Well to buy snacks from the vending machine so we can skip the dining hall. I need a break from all the “not staring.” We sit in the empty stairwell and look out at the snow. Another half inch and we would have gotten a snow day. I could still be in my pajamas right now.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” I say.

“Do what?” he asks through a mouthful of Cheetos.

“Go to theater class. Mrs. Nicky told me on my first day that theater wasn’t for the faint of heart. The show’s in three weeks, and I missed two rehearsals. She’s going to think I can’t handle the pressure.”

“Can you?” He points a plum nail at me. The thing about Well is he doesn’t ever let you off the hook.

“Yes. I mean, I think so.”

“Fine.” He shrugs. “Then don’t let anyone bully you.”

“Besides you, you mean?”

“Well of course, besides me.”