“You’re going to be OK,” Amy whispered. “Remember, it’s school. They’ll get bored by tomorrow.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“She totally is,” Kim said loudly, clearly enjoying the corridor parting for us.

When the bell shrilled, I hugged them both goodbye. They had a welcome back assembly, while I had an appointment with the school counselor: Wendy, a woman who looked like she slept in her pearl necklace. In her office, she relayed to me the wide variety of “measures” my school was taking to get me through my exams despite my mental illness. I could skip school assemblies. I could leave Physics early on Thursday afternoons for my CBT appointments. They’d placed me into top sets based on predicted grades, and we could see how I got on. As she outlined all the logistical gymnastics required for me to function like a normal teenager, I felt myself detach from my balloon string and float off again. My body was nodding and my mouth was saying “thank you,” but I was watching myself from the ceiling.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t my life. It couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be.

“So, what’s your first lesson?” Wendy asked, and I snapped back into my body. “Let’s see? English? That’s one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

I nodded with a tight throat.

“What a great way to start.”

The bell rang, jolting me to my core. I’d forgotten the shrillness of it.

“And so it begins.” Wendy stood to usher me out, with a new firmness to her.

“Oh my God, Fern, how ARE YOU?” Abigail Goddarth sprang up to give me a hug as I shuffled into my English class, though we’d never really been friends. Her newly sprouted breasts squashed against my own flat chest as our jumpers crackled against each other.

“I’m good, thanks,” I mumbled. “How are you?”

“Yeah. Good. Are you OK?”

“Fine thanks. How was your summer?”

“Yeah, it was great. But how are you really?” Abigail tilted her head to one side in faux concern and her eyes drifted to my covered arms, scanning them for information she could use on the gossip black market that upcoming lunchtime.

“I’m fine. Like I said...” My lungs crunched in on themselves. This was just what I feared would happen. I strained my neck to the front, checking for Mr. Dudley’s presence to make it all go away. But he was late, leaving me the leading role in this play of faked sympathy disguised as curiosity.

But a distraction came from Richard—the biggest pervert in our year group. I yelped as my training bra strap pinged my back through my jumper.

“Fern! I heard you went nuts?” he said, before reaching over to ping Abi’s too. “Abi! These tits are new. You had a busy summer.”