“Oh … um … okay.” Not having any idea how his grading system worked, I’ve never been too sure of my standing. Our grades were based on “try factor.” “You’ll get out of this class exactly what you put into it,” he’d said on the first day of class. I figured that just meant I had to contribute to the classroom discussions, but no matter how easy Doc always made it, participating wasn’t one of my strong suits. Plus, I never really understand his lessons. I mean sure, I get that they’re meant to be thought-provoking, and I certainly had my share of thoughts. More often than not, though, I didn’t think my thoughts were the right ones. If I told him that, I expect he would have countered with something like:

“There are no right or wrong answers.” So I went with: “I’m not like … failing or anything? Am I?”

He laughed, reached out, and gave my shoulder a warm pat. “No, no, not even close. I like to get to know my students’ parents. That’s all.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

“Serena, before you go—how’ve you been doing?” The way his brown eyes radiated warmth and concern, I could tell he was asking about Kori. “Have you been getting along okay?”

“Sure, I mean, yeah, I guess.” Getting along okay? Who was I kidding? Half my day was spent contemplating suicide. I most certainly wasn’t getting along okay. I wanted to go back in time, to start over, to be a child again. To curl into my mother’s lap. To feel her fingers in my hair. I just didn’t trust she would be there. So I didn’t tell him about thoughts of death or even about Kori’s list. What I told him was: “I just really miss how things used to be … with her.”

After a long pause, Doc asked, “With who?”

Leave it to Doc to not let me be ambiguous. Of course he wouldn’t assume I was talking about Kori, because I guess I wasn’t.

I shrugged his question off as I lugged my book bag onto my shoulder, feeling the weight. “I’m fine, Doc. Really. Perfect.”

The charade of perfection swung fully. And this was despite all the rumors and gossip about my “mugging.” Each day I’d been to school, I’d slapped on a smile and made a good showing of being “okay” until last bell rang.

My mother would’ve been so proud.

But being “fine” was exhausting. The smile. The small talk.

By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was close my bedroom door, duck under my covers, and embrace the cold darkness of sleep. As I was tugging the key from my neck to unlock my front door, I stopped. The action pulled at something lodged tight inside of me.