I feel like a ghost as I walk the halls that day, seeing everything and nothing as the world passes me by. It’s a weird sensation, one that I’ve been experiencing more and more these last few days. It’s like I’m living in a fog, where everything is just out of reach.

I can’t decide if I hate it or love it. Maybe a little of both.

I easily avoid Will the first half of the day. He doesn’t sit with us at lunch, and when Mason and Izzy ask why, I tell them we’re not friends anymore. When they ask for details, I lie and say I heard he asked out Sarah Mills, a girl he knew I liked.

I don’t know if they believe me. I don’t think I care.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about anything.

Because of my arm, I’ve been switched to a music course during P.E. block. I find I don’t actually hate it. It’s a relief, though, knowing that for the last few weeks of school, I won’t have to see Will except for English. Hopefully, Mr. Green lets me move seats.

I don’t know what comes over me that afternoon. We’ve just been dismissed from our final classes of the day, and I’m heading back toward my homeroom to get my things when I see Will walking out of the gym.

One second, I’m several feet behind him, and the next, I’m crouched over him on the ground. Will’s sprawled out on his stomach, face down in the linoleum. His books are scattered all around him, loose sheets of notebook paper floating away.

I’m gritting down on my teeth, nose flared, fists clenched in front of me.

Startled, pained blue eyes lift to mine, and something in me seems to just...snap. Something important. Right then and there. His lip is bleeding. He must have bit it when he fell.

No. When I shoved him.

“I hate you,” I spit angrily.

We’ve started to draw a crowd, and I think I hear a teacher demanding what’s going on, but I pay them no notice. Nothing else matters right now but Will.

His eyes well with tears and I hate it. I want to hurt him. I want to make him pay.

I put my face right in front of his, not masking the rage crawling through my veins like lava. Let him see, I think. Let him see what he did.

“You promised,” I hiss through my clenched teeth.

He fumbles for words, lip stained red when he pokes it out to wet his lip. It reminds me of the fact that I had once felt those lips under mine, and it’s like a wave of terrifying black washes over me.

Blink.