I stir absentmindedly at my cereal the next morning while my father reads the paper and drinks his coffee next to me. I feel like I’m about to fall over because I barely got any sleep last night. I was too busy thinking about lunch and the brown paper bag crumpled in the side pocket of my backpack. I’m not sure why I kept it; I always throw those stupid things away after lunch. But I didn’t really want to move after seeing that look on Eric’s face. It was worse than having him yell at me.  

“Don’t forget we have Kalene’s concert this weekend,” my father suddenly reminds me, and a small part of me jerks awake.  

I look up to find him peering at me from over the paper. I’m always told I look like my father, same hair, color, somewhat similar face, and same pale skin. I’ve always thought my father is the most handsome man alive — inside and out. There’s something about him that makes people want to go up and talk to him. He’s extremely funny and charming, and he has a laugh that rings through the air like a bell and a voice that reminds me of smooth honey.  

I nod at my father’s words and look back down. I’ve never seen Kalene, or any other student at her school for that matter, perform. I want to try to see her sing every time I can because she’s almost always on tour during the rest of the year. I hardly ever get to see her even thought the Academy is twenty minutes away because of their strict policy of leaving the school. Kalene told me it’s nearly impossible to find free time, and it’s difficult with publicity and all that. It’s hard to find time to even call her since she’s so busy. They always have an end of year performance they host before starting their summer play with all three groups: Majors, Minors, and Juniors. The play, which is a family and friends’ event only affair in September, is one of their most famous events. It’s broadcast on TV, and people all over the world watch it. My father and I decided we would always go to the end of year concerts and the plays because that’s the only time we can watch her besides random YouTube clips.  

When Kalene first joined the Academy, I was asked all sorts of questions about her by my classmates. I still get the occasional question of “Are you related to Kalene Rodgers?” when I need to show my driver’s license or use my credit card since we do still look slightly similar. I don’t complain about it though. I’m ok with being in the background. 

I stand from the barstool and throw away the rest of my cereal. Every time I look at food now, I see my brown paper bag and that look Eric gave me.  

“Not hungry?” my father asks and eyes me again. “You barely had two bites.”  

“Not really feeling like cereal,” I say. “I’ll stop somewhere on my way to school.”  

He nods then looks back at his paper.  

“Have a good day at school, flower,” he calls to me as I grab my keys, backpack, and lunch.  

“Thanks, Dad,” I say just loud enough for him to hear. My voice sounds strangely hoarse like I’m sick. I quickly clean my throat so he doesn’t notice.  

When I get to school, everything seems strangely quiet. First period still doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, so it’s not like everyone should be here yet, I guess. I feel my face scrunch, and my hand goes to fiddle with my necklace. I continue to glance around at my surroundings as my fingertips graze over the small dips and curves of the rose.  

Something in my stomach does a flipflop, my eyes flip up to the rearview mirror of my car, and I see them. I don’t know why I didn’t spot them before. Anyone in my school would recognize those voices anywhere.  

There’s seven of them; four boys and three girls. One of the few people I know is Jason Cox, but everyone knows his name. He’s a year ahead of me as a Junior, and he leads them like a pack of wolves. I don’t think there’s been a day of high school where one of them hasn’t come to school high or hungover. They’re the ones everyone’s afraid of, and they know it. I haven’t ever had any real encounters with them, but I certainly have been close. I know the name Jessica Kyle too, even though I don’t know which one of them she is. She’s the one that punched a boy from my grade in the face and shoved him in my locker last year.  

They’re getting closer; I can tell by the smell of beer and smoke. I glance next to me and my heart jumps again. Jason’s famous red truck is parked next to me. How could I have been so oblivious? I move quickly and jump into the backseat after turning off my car, then duck down and clutch my backpack tightly to my chest. Everyone knows the phrase “Jason’s tailgate”. It’s where they go to smoke weed or whatever it is they have that day, or drink alcohol occasionally when they don’t have anything else. When you see that group headed for the tailgate of the red pickup truck, you run in the other direction. I’ve had to run before. I don’t think people are necessarily scared of the drugs or alcohol though. I’ve heard rumors about what they’ve done to people, but I don’t know if I believe them.  

I hear the distant sound of people jumping into the tailgate, then the laughter and talking. Bottles are popping open and the smell that reeks off all of them gets more distinct as the seconds tick by. I sit curled up in a ball as I shake in fear. They can’t know I’m here. If they did, I don’t even want to think about what would happen to me. 

“Eric, hand me one of those beers, would you?” I hear someone ask, and my heart stops.  

Eric?  

My heart is racing as I slowly sit up and daringly peak out the window. I feel a lump grow in my throat.  

“F*ck this school!” Jason yells as he raises his beer then takes a large gulp.  

Everyone cheers, and that’s when I finally spot him. Jet black hair and bright green eyes, perfect face, and white teeth. He looks happier than I’ve seen him in months. His beer can is raised in the air with everyone else’s, and his face is full of joy and something else I don’t recognize. His eyes look bloodshot, but they look happy. Two of his other friends are there with him, Tony, and Rachel. Tony is someone I can see hanging out with this group, but Rachel? She doesn’t really seem like the bad girl type. I don’t even think I’ve ever heard her talk.  

I duck back down and hold my backpack to my chest.  

“You’re bringing the sh*t next week, Eric,” one of the girls says. “Don’t be lame, or your out.”  

“Don’t worry,” Eric says in a stone-cold voice. “It’s the voice he uses when he talks to me. “I have something really special planned. You guys will get a kick out of it.”  

“You sound like you’re planning a surprise party for your girlfriend,” someone else snorts.  

“My girlfriend?”  

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Eric. Kalene Rodgers’s little sister. What’s her name?”  

“Christi,” I hear Rachel say. “I totally get why you don’t know who she is. I barely do.”  

Jason’s ear-splitting laugh that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up seems to pierce through the air.  

“That’s a nice pick,” he sneers. “I bet her sister’s loaded.”  

My breathing is getting quicker and more desperate by the second. I’ve never so badly wanted to disappear and erase these past five minutes.  

“Hey, isn’t that her car?” someone asks suddenly, and my heart stops.  

Oh no.  

“Yeah,” Eric breathes coldly.  

“No f*ckin’ way,” Jason cackles. “Can you believe our luck? I bet she’s got cash in here!”  

I’m breathing so heavily now I’m sure they can hear me. The tailgate pops open, and I can hear Jason’s heavy footsteps land on the ground. They’re going to see me. I’m done. I push my face in my knees in hopes of disappearing. Maybe if I try hard enough, I can fold into myself and vanish. I can already smell the alcohol. I can already see Jason’s beady eyes and Eric’s enraged face. He’s going to be furious.  

“Hey! What do you kids think you’re doing.”  

“You’ve gotta be f*ckin’ kidding me,” Jason grumbles in his croaky voice.  

I press a hand to my mouth and nearly start crying in relief.  

“That better not be alcohol,” a woman who’s voice I don’t recognize yells. “That’s an automatic suspension. You all better get over here before I report you!”  

“Bitchy teachers always ruining the fun,” I hear Jason say from right outside my car, then the tailgate pops open again, and everyone jumps out. I can hear distant grumbles of protest, but nothing loud enough for the teacher or whoever it is to hear. Then just like that they’re gone, and it’s dead silent again.  

I let out eh breath I was holding in, but it comes out as more of a desperate sob. A few tears sprinkle down my cheeks, and I keep my face buried in my knees. Every inch of me is shaking. I don’t really know why I’m crying, but I can’t stop. The bell rings somewhere in the distance, but I can’t get myself to move. Instead of moving, I stay wedged between the two seats, crying, and hugging my backpack to my chest like a four-year-old.  

“I’m not going,” I scream as I kick at the air.  

“Christi, you can’t just skip school,” my father sighs as he rubs his eyes tiredly. “Come on, it’s only for a couple of hours.”  

“No!” I shriek and throw my purple backpack across my room in a fit of anger.  

“Christina Grace Rodgers,” my mother yells as she picks up the discarded backpack.  

I was so excited when I got to pick a new backpack for my last year of preschool.  

“Christi, if you don’t finish preschool, then you won’t be able to go to Kindergarten at the big school with Kalene next year,” my father says as he picks up my backpack.  

“No!” I scream again.  

My mother huffs and storms out of the room.  

“I’m not doing this today,” she declares. “This your problem, Mark. I fight this battle every other time.”  

“That’s not true,” my father glares and troops after her. “The only time you talk to either one of our daughters is to criticize them, so don’t act like I’m not doing any of the work!”  

Their yelling moves downstairs until it’s a distant background noise, just like it always is. I sniff and wipe the flow of tears that stain my cheeks. Even at a young age, I know that when the yelling starts, it’s time to stop making a scene.  

I pull myself off the ground and grab my purple backpack. My reflection is sad, red eyes and tangled hair, pink cheeks, and wobbly lip. I pull on my backpack and stand up straight. Then I walk out of the house and into the car without my parents even noticing. I’m going to preschool.  

I pull my face out of my knees and loosen my grip on my backpack. I heave myself back into a seat, and glance outside. There’s not a person in sight. It looks like everyone is in first period. I get a chill up my spine as I step outside and wipe my face, so it doesn’t look like I’ve been crying. My stomach tumbles at the emptiness of the school. I’m used to the loud chatter of the hallway. It’s strange to hear everything so quiet. The bell suddenly rings signaling first period is over, and students start to pile out of classrooms. I stop in a panic and let everyone flood around me. I stand there like an idiot clutching my books to my chest, letting everyone slide around me like I’m not even there. I look around at the students I grew up with. I wonder if they even know I exist.  

“Christi,” I hear someone say, and I spot my Math teacher waving me over. I try to shake myself out of my daze and force my feet to move forward towards him. It’s harder than I thought it would be considering my legs feel like lead right now.  

“I’m sorry I was late today,” I start, but he’s quick to cut me off.  

“That’s not why I need you,” he says and hands me a slip of paper. “Mrs. White wanted to see you.”  

I look down blankly. Mrs. White is our school counselor. I’ve only had to see her a few times, and that was for scheduling.  

“Why does she want to see me?” I ask as I look back up at my teacher.  

He shrugs and shoves the pass in my hands.  

“I suggest you get over there.”  

I bite the inside of my cheek and turn on my heel to leave back the way I came. Everything about Mrs. White is annoying. Her voice, her pencil skirts, her round glasses, her smelly perfume, the list goes on. Her office smells like a terrible wilting flower. I have no idea what she would want from me.  

The late bell rings as soon as I step into the office. The secretary working today glances up at me looking irritated.  

“What?” she snaps as she peers at me over her huge desk. 

“Mrs. White wants to see me.”  

She huffs again but points behind me to her office.  

“She’s in there.”  

I roll my eyes once I’m past her, then knock timidly on the door.  

“Come in,” I hear her chirp from inside, and I cringe at the sound of her high-pitched voice. I can think of a million other things I’d rather do than walk into her office.  

My stomach is doing nervous summersaults as I silently open her door and step inside, and the smell of wilting plants hits me strongly in the face.  

Her office looks the same from the last time I was in here with the ugly prune orange walls and random paintings of flowers thrown across the room. Some are on the walls, others on her desk, and the rest on the bookshelf in the corner. Her large oak desk with the deep brown leather chair is still on the far wall, and she still has the matching wooden chairs in front. It all looks like the office of a preschool teacher rather than a high school guidance office.  

“Hello there,” Mrs. White says with a Cheshire cat smile, which makes me want to run out of the room screaming. She’s a short, round woman with brown hair that sits on top of her head like an ugly mole. She’s always reminded me of a toad. I have no idea how her voice is so high-pitched considering how large she is.  

“Hi,” I say flatly and stand there awkwardly in the doorway.  

“Come have a seat.”  

My feet slide on the carpet as I shuffle towards one of the chairs and take a seat still feeling very stiff. I stare at her blankly waiting for her to say something, but she just stares at me creepily with her smile now gone.  

“You wanted to see me?” I ask finally to break the awkward silence.  

“Yes,” she squeaks, leans forward, and intertwines her fingers on her desk.  

I must be giving her a weird look because she sighs and closes her pudgy eyes for a moment. The rolls in her face squash together, and I resist the urge to lean away.  

“Has everything been ok recently?”  

I stare at her, and I’m suddenly not thinking about her pug face anymore.  

“What?”  

“Is there anything you want to talk about? School, friends, home?”  

“No,” I say without skipping a beat. “What are you even talking about? Why would you think something was wrong?”  

I never see Mrs. White around the school or anything, so she barely knows me. What would even make her think I was in trouble? She doesn’t say anything for a minute.  

“Well, are you going to answer me?” I snap, and she looks up in surprise.  

“This is exactly what I’m talking ab —" 

“Who told you to talk to me?”  

“That’s confidential. The point is someone is concerned about you, which means I should be too.”  

I huff angerly and lean back in the chair. There’s only on person I can think of.  

“Was it Monica?”  

She sighs again.  

“No, Christi, I wasn’t Monica.” 

I know she’s lying. I can tell by the change in her voice. If I wasn’t mad before, I am now.  

“Stop lying to me.”  

“I’m not lying to you.”  

“I’m not doing this bullsh*t right now,” I decide, then stand abruptly and turn on my heel to yank open the door with such a force it bangs on the wall.  

“Christi,” Mrs. White calls after me, but I ignore her and storm out of the office with everyone’s eyes on me.  

No one tries to chase after me as I stomp down the hallway back towards my class. My stomach is tumbling anger, and I feel tears suddenly spring to my eyes. It’s not fair that Monica can just suddenly act all concerned about me. She left me a long time ago. I suddenly steer off course into the deserted bathroom and grip the sink tightly. I don’t know why my stomach hurts so much, or why I’m sweating bullets, or why my head is pounding so much I feel like I might pass out. I look up at my reflection, trying to focus on something so I don’t faint. I look as pale as a ghost and my eyes are red.  

“Christi, are you ok?”  

My head shoots up in panic.  

Monica.  

“You don’t look so good. Do you want me to take you to the nurse?”  

Before I even think about what I’m doing, I take a step forward and slap her hard across the face just like Eric does to me. I imagine the powder on her face coming up in a dust cloud and the blush on her cheeks making a smear across her face, and the sick feeling in my stomach suddenly doubles. Her face whips sideways and she immediately grabs her cheek and looks back up to me in shock. Her mouth hangs open like the muscles suddenly stopped working and her eyes are wide like a fish.  

“Stay the f*ck away from me,” I say lowly, then storm out of the bathroom.  

My locker suddenly slams in my face, and I glance sideways in annoyance. I spot Eric leaning up against the locker next to me, and my face immediately falls. I open my mouth to say something, but he beats me to it.  

“Why were you in the guidance office today?”  

I close my mouth. I don’t ask how he knows I was even there in the first place; I just hurriedly try to come up with a lie.  

“I’m switching my schedule.”  

He looks me up and down. I can tell he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying or not. But it doesn’t matter if I am lying or not. What he doesn’t know is I’ve mastered that skill.  

“Whatever. I’ll see you at lunch,” he says after a deadly pause, then pushes himself off the locker and slinks down the hallway.  

I watch his retreating form, then turn to head towards my next class once he’s turned the corner. My hands are shaking madly and something inside of me now feels hallow. I can practically see my insides splattered on the floor from where he carved open my stomach and let my guts spill out.  

Things are strange at lunch. Eric stays quiet and doesn’t talk once, not even to his other friends. A part of me wonders if he’ll go back to Jason’s tailgate tomorrow. I want to see them as the reason things have not been normal, but something tells me that’s not it. There’s something more to it. Even if I were to ask, I don’t think Eric would want to talk about it.  

We used to talk all the time. When my parents were fighting, and I needed somewhere to go, he would always be there. When something with him was going on, he would talk to me and we’d work through it together. I don’t know what changed this year. Maybe I wasn’t listening enough.  

“Can you come over later?”  

I look up to find Eric staring at me waiting for an answer to his question. He looks like a skeleton from the way the light outside is coming through the window and hitting his face.  

“Sure,” I say. My voice sounds a lot like it did this morning. Hoarse and old people like.  

But then I hesitate. Why does he want me over? To do what he’s done the past two times I’ve been over? I think about it the rest of the school day.  

“So, you’re coming over tonight, right?” Eric asks with an excited smile as we continue to whisper in the library while working on homework.  

“Yep,” I grin back giddily. My leg starts to bounce up and down again in excitement.  

I’ve thought a lot about it ever since he asked me two days ago. I finally get to meet his parents tonight at dinner. When he first met my mother, father, and sister a few weeks ago, he mentioned the idea of me coming over to meet his parents. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited. I really like Eric, and I want his parents to like me too.  

“Hi, flower. How was school?”  

I set my keys on the counter and look over to my father who sits in one of the living room chairs with a book in his lap and a cup of tea in hand.  

“You’re home early,” I observe.  

When I was younger, every day when my sister and I came home from school, he would always be reading a book with a cup of tea like he is now. When my mother ran away and Kalene left for the Academy, he began working longer shifts, and I started coming home alone to an empty house. As a doctor, he works unpredictable shifts. Sometimes he doesn’t get home until midnight. Work has always distracted my father, and I think that’s what he needed when my mother left.  

“I managed to get off early tonight, but I’m still on call. Since I’m not working tonight, I called Kalene and asked if she wanted to have dinner at that new steak house tonight. I told her to bring Zach so we can meet him.”  

Zach is Kalene’s partner at the Academy, and recently her new boyfriend. At the Academy, each group has a boy and a girl in a number spot, and each pair does a duet as part of the concert. Zach is Kalene’s other number three.  

Zach was the first thing I heard about after my sister’s first week at her new school. Not the classes, not the singing. It was him. They recently got together a few weeks ago, and my father and I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet. I remember laughing at my father because he wanted to look him up on the internet, but I told him no because it was kind of cheating. I wonder if he ever did it secretly when he was alone.  

“Oh. I was going to go over to Eric’s later,” my voice trails off, and I pause. “But I guess I can just go over later. If that’s ok?”  

His smile brightens, and he sets down his book.  

“That’s fine with me. Just don’t be out too late tonight, ok, flower?”  

“I promise.”  

My father and I spend the time we have before dinner to talk while I do some of my homework. I enjoy talking to him. There’s always something we can discuss without it getting boring. He tells me about things at the hospital, about the knee injury he saw, and about his favorite patient that came in today.  

“So,” my father says as I close my math textbook and start to put my things away again, “how’s school been?”  

“Good,” I say and zip my backpack back up. 

“Good?” he asks. “Are you sure?”  

I pause and look over at him. 

“What?”  

“Mrs. White called me this afternoon.”  

“Oh,” I croak, then quickly clear my throat. “She did?”  

“Yes. People are worried about you, Christi. Your teachers, your friends . . . .” 

“I’m fine, Daddy.”  

“Really? Because not everyone seems to think —”  

“I’m fine,” I repeat. “I promise.”  

Something inside of me jumps, but I ignore it. Nothing is wrong.  

“Ok, then,” he sighs. “If you say so. But you can always talk to me if anything’s wrong, flower. You know that.”  

“I know,” I say with a tight smile.  

To tell the truth, there’s a lot I want to tell him. Things I need to say, questions I need to ask. But how am I supposed to tell him everything when I don’t even know what’s going on myself.  

I’ve never been able to lie to my father. It makes me guilty betraying his trust. He can usually tell when I’m keeping something from him too. What I’m keeping isn’t exactly lying. I haven’t had to make something up about why there’s a bruise on my leg or why I have claw marks on my arm. He hasn’t noticed. Technically, I’m not lying. I’m just withholding information.  

The steak house is decently crowded for a Thursday night when we get there. Without even walking inside, I can tell it is fancy too. I stay close to my father as we wait to be seated in the dimly lit room. I know I said it was crowded before, but it seems even more jampacked now that we’re inside. People are crowding me on all four sides like a giant wave about to crash on top of me. It makes my throat tight and my hands shake.  

Once my father gives the hostess our reservation name, she leads us through the restaurant towards the back and into a separate room that’s a lot more private with only a few tables that only seat two or four people. I should have known Kalene would choose something like this. Not only because she wants to avoid crazy mobs of fans since she has some new-found attention with Zach, but because I know she enjoys the privacy.  

“This seems like something Kalene would choose, isn’t it?” my father asks as if reading my mind.  

“Definitely,” I say as I continue to glance around the small room while taking a seat.  

I pretend to listen to my father drone on about this one doctor he works with while I absentmindedly flip through the menu. Everything here looks so expensive. Every food item seems to be jumping out at me and slapping me in the face, screaming, “You can’t eat this. What makes you think these calories would be good for you?”  

“Is that my little sister?”  

I smile down at my menu. I don’t need to turn around to know who those words came from. I feel an arm sling around my shoulder, and I look up with a soft smile.  

Sure enough, I’m met with none other than Kalene herself. Her dark brown wavy hair that looks like a wave of chocolate is pulled up into a low ponytail, and her hazel eyes are shining in excitement. She’s dressed nicely in a long sleeve black dress that stops just about her knees and black heeled ankle boots to match. It reminds me of something you would find on a mannequin in a fancy store. Her brown skin shines in the light, and her mouth is pulled up into a bright smile. She’s just as radiant as the last time I saw her.  

“Hey there, little flower,” she chirps with a smile still on her face.  

“Hi, Kalene,” I reply and stand to give her a hug.  

I feel relieved when her warm arms wrap around me and hold me tight. They suddenly make me feel much safer. Everything about her is still familiar. Her appearance, her flowery smell, even her loud but charming personality. She’s the same Kalene she was even before she joined the Academy. I glance over her shoulder while she’s already talking my ear off and spot two more people entering the room.  

One of them I recognize as Kalene’s bodyguard Tommy. I’ve only seen him once or twice since he is usually required to come with her when we go out together. He must have come with her and Zach. He looks the same as when I saw him a month ago, bald head, puffed out chest, arms crossed, tight suit; just like in the movies. Truth be told, he’s always scared me a little bit.  

My eyes wander to the next person while Kalene breaks away from me and spins to my father without stopping to take a breath. He’s a tall kid, probably around 5’11, which is the perfect height next to my sister who is 5’5 without her heels on. I’m only an inch or so shorter than her, so I don’t feel too tiny next to him. He has thick, light brown hair with faded blonde highlights styled into a messy quiff that makes him look like some kind of model. I can already tell this is definitely someone my sister would pick out. Someone confident, funny, smart, and professional. Someone that looks like they popped right out of a magazine.  

He smiles at me, but before either of us can say anything, Kalene tugs my father up next to me and places a hand on my shoulder.  

“Christi, Dad, this is Zach,” she says proudly, and I finally smile back in greeting. “Zach, this is my younger sister Christi and my dad.”  

“It’s nice to meet you both,” he replies and shakes my father’s hand and then mine.  

“So, you’re the famous Christi Kalene’s always talking about,” he says when he lets go of my hand.  

I grin meekly then shoot my sister a sideways look. She shrugs and quickly beckons everyone to sit down. I pick up my menu and start browsing again, but I can’t seem to focus on the print. Everything looks blurry. What would Eric say I should get? Maybe I should just stick to a salad?  

“You’re just getting a salad?” Kalene asks when I tell her what I’m ordering. “Get a steak. I know they’re your favorite.”  

“Kalene, I’m really not that hungry.”  

“Oh, come on, if you don’t finish it, I’ll take it to go.”  

I sigh, looking back down at the menu. There’s no point in arguing with her. She’ll win every time.  

“Fine,” I give in and turn to the waiter to submit my order.  

Kalene leads most of the conversation while we wait for our food, which is no surprise, but occasionally Zach will pop in and add something, or my father will make a silly comment. They both talk a lot about the Academy, what they’re working one, and what the upcoming play is going to be.  

I learn quite a bit about Zach too. He tells us how he joined the Academy two years before Kalene did when he was fifteen, where he’s been a number three Major for nearly three years now. He lives in New York City when he’s not at school and has two older brothers who are both lawyers and a younger sister who is in eighth grade. I have to say, he’s got a great sense of humor. Kalene seems to love that about him too. She laughs loudly whenever he says something funny, the kind of laugh I haven’t heard in a long time. The two of them together if fun to watch. They complement each other very well.  

When our food arrives, I gulp when the giant steak is set in front of me. I suddenly feel very self-conscious of what I’m doing. My meal seems so much larger than it actually is.  

“Christi, are you ok?” Kalene whispers next to me while my father and Zach start to dig into their meals. She grabs one of my shaking hands and tilts her head. “What’s wrong?”  

“I’m ok,” I lie, forcing a smile onto my face and let go of her hand.  

I look down and start to pick at my salad, but I can still feel her eyes on me. I don’t want to look at her. I’m not sure what I’ll see. I don’t want to discuss it anyway.  

She eventually turns away to start eating, leaving me with this huge plate of food. Kalene knows when I’m lying just like my father does. Does she know it now? I munch on a few bites of salad before finally turning to the steak, my heart starting to hammer inside of my chest. Just a few bites are all I’ll have. How many calories are even in this thing . . . ? 

The food tastes weird in my mouth. Almost like I’m trying it for the first time. I take another bite. Food is supposed to fill you stomach, but honestly, right now it just feels like it’s emptying it. Every bite I swallow, a part of me feels like it’s breaking off. I’m trying so hard not to think of Eric sitting in the empty chair beside me, watching me eat. If he saw me now, I can only imagine what he’d be saying.  

Half a steak later, I’m feeling sick to my stomach. Something tells me I ate way too much. Maybe Eric was right just like he always is. I knew eating that would be a bad idea. Now I ate all those calories for nothing. Will Eric notice?  

“Miss, would you like me to box that up for you?”  

“Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you.”  

The waiter nods and takes my plate. I grip at my stomach and watch him take it away. I hope he never brings it back. I picture it in my mind again, and a sudden pit of nausea lands in my stomach. I stand and quickly excuse myself to go to the bathroom while Kalene, Zach, and my father argue over who gets to pay the bill and push my way across the restaurant as quickly as possible in search of a restroom. The wave of people surrounds me again, and my nausea suddenly gets worse. My stomach hurts so bad I feel myself start to tear up. I can’t cry right now . . . . 

I run into the woman’s room and lock myself in a stall. The tears start to spill out of my eyes, and I’m thankful the bathroom is empty as I spill the contents of my dinner, my fingers turning white as I grip the edge of the toilet seat.  

Eric cancelled just as I was ready to leave for his house. He didn’t say anything else on the matter, just that something came up and he couldn’t have me over. I didn’t respond, and I didn’t ask why he abandoned me so suddenly. I have no idea if something is wrong, or if he’s just sick of me. It could be either.  

“Don’t you think that’s a little rude of him to cancel so last minute?” Kalene asks as we walk out of the restaurant. Her tone of voice sounds disapproving.  

“No,” I tell her. “Something just came up. That kind of stuff happens. There’s a difference.”  

“Yeah, I know,” she shrugs. “Do you know why he cancelled?”  

“No,” I say again.  

“Well, I think you should ask.”  

“It’s not really any of my business, Kalene.”  

“It kind of is,” she points out. “You are his girlfriend after all. Don’t you think you should know what’s going on?”  

I stare at my feet moving forward down the sidewalk.  

“I’ll call him later,” I say finally.  

I’m not going to call him later like she thinks. If he wants to talk about it, he will. Besides, I’m not risking getting on his bad side. It’s not worth it.  

When Kalene and Zach leave, I head home while my father goes back to the hospital for a late shift. I used to not mind coming home to an empty and dark house. I do it every day when I come home from school and my father is still at work. But recently, I’ve dreaded it. It makes me feel heavy.  

I tap my foot repeatedly on the ground without even realizing it. After looking down at my phone to check the time again, I sigh. It’s now 7:30. Eric was supposed to be here at 7:00. Something in my stomach pinches together, and I start pacing to get rid of the bad feeling. When Eric asked me out on a date yesterday, he made it seem like he really wanted to go. I’ve been waiting for him to ask me since the day we met. But maybe he was just joking? No, he texted me this afternoon to confirm our plans. He said this restaurant, right? At 7:00?  

I look down at my phone again. That’s what this text says. Did I get stood up? He’s not even answering any of my calls.  

I feel disappointment stab at my insides. I really did like him . . . .  

Just when I’m about to call it a night and go home, I hear someone call out my name.  

“Christi, is that you?”  

My head turns, and I let out a breath of relief. Eric comes running toward me looking very handsome in a nice button-down shirt and dress pants with his hair combed back neatly.  

“Oh my God, Christi, I’m so sorry I’m late. There was so much traffic on the way here, and then my phone died,” he rambles.  

I couldn’t care less about why he’s late because he’s here now.  

“It’s ok,” I interrupt, “I understand.”  

He lets out a breath and pulls me into a side hug. I feel my heart leap in excitement.  

“Thanks for understanding. Shall we go inside?  

I plop down on the couch without even setting anything down or taking my shoes off and stare out the window into the dark night. I don’t know what leads me to what I do next, but for reasons I can’t explain, I reach next to me to one of my father’s crosswords and start scribbling down words. I don’t even know what I’m writing I can’t comprehend it. Just random sentences that are coming into my head and are spilling on to the paper. Every single thing running through my mind right now is being thrown out on to this paper.  

I don’t know how long I sit there.  

I can’t describe what I’m feeling right now. Otherworldly? Like I’m watching myself from up above?  

I toss the pencil down in front of me and stare at the jumble of words in front of me. Jumble doesn’t feel like the right word though. I think if Kalene read this right now, she would tell me it looks like poetry.  

“Poetry is the most beautiful type of literature,” I remember her telling me once. “If you can write poetry, you can write anything. It’s also the first, and in my opinion the hardest, step to song writing.”  

I take the crossword with all the words and ball it up in my hand. When I go upstairs later that night to shove it in an old shoebox somewhere in the back of closet, I don’t forget about it.  

Eric isn’t at school the next day. Or the next. When the weekend eventually comes and I text him to ask where he is, he tells me he’s sick. I don’t know why something inside of me I don’t believe him.  

I write another jumble of words in that time period and put it in the shoebox with the first one. Once they’re in the box, I don’t look at them again. That doesn’t mean I stop thinking about them though. They’re one of the things I start to think about at night when I can’t fall asleep. I’ve never had trouble sleeping before, but recently, it’s been a problem. I think a lot. About Eric, about myself, about my random writings. Some nights I think about other things like Kalene and my father, and other nights, my mom. I miss her a lot the remaining days before the weekend when Eric is sick. I don’t know why. Even if she were here, she’d tell me that you can’t fall asleep if your eyes aren’t closed and shove me back up the stairs.  

Saturday night is Kalene’s end of year concert, so my father takes off work and we both get dressed up for our trip to the Academy where all ten Majors will perform. I’ve only heard a little bit about what the concerts are like from Kalene. There’s supposed to be ten solo performances, one from each Major; five duets from each pair of partners; then one group song with all of them. Since I’ve never seen or heard any of the Majors before, I’m not sure what to expect. Their faces are probably plastered all over the place, but those aren’t the types of things I pick up on. Pop culture has never been my thing.  

I haven’t really dressed up in a long time. Come to think of it, I can’t really remember the last time I wore a dress. I’m not even sure what fits me anymore. After searching my closet, I puck up a long, dark green dress with long sleeves. When I look at myself in the mirror, I’m not sure if I like it or not. I pull my arms together like doing that will make them shrink.  

“Christi, we’re leaving in ten minutes,” my father suddenly calls from downstairs. “Be ready to leave.”  

I reach behind me and grab the excess amount of dress and tug it together so the dress clings against my body. There’s no time to pick anything else. This will have to do. After quickly running my fingers through my hair and grabbing my sandals, I hurry downstairs to follow my father out to the car.  

The Academy is hidden somewhere deep in a cluster of woods behind a huge hill, so I only see the small sign outside of the private road when I pass the school. I have no idea what is beyond that. Cars are already piling in when we start to travel up that road and around the hill past the small sign. It’s starting to get dark outside so I can’t really see much of what is in these woods, but from the look of things, it doesn’t seem like anything interesting. After about a mile, a large stone wall about ten feet high comes in to view, and then the gate where cars are slowly lining up to be let in. The wall is gray, stone, and boring like something that belongs in a prison. It’s lit up by small lights that shine up on it like the wall is meant to be a display and stretches on as far as I can see. When my father pulls up to the entrance, he shows one of the gate keepers our tickets, and I look up ahead to try to get a glimpse of the school that lies ahead. What I see makes me gasp.  

The school literally looks like one of those 20th centuries castles in the Netherlands that my father always talks about wanting to see, with tab brinks, beautiful smooth white columns, and a very high four stories. The entire building is lit up like the Hogwarts castle from Harry Potter with lights shining on it that make it look grand and slightly intimidating in a way. Once my father is finished at the gate, he drives up the roadway closer and closer to the school. Inside the gate is even more spectacular.  

The short, paved road leads to a smaller circular cul-de-sac looking thing that spits out a sidewalk at the top that leads to the main entrance of the Academy. Two other short roads also spurt off either end, one that leads to teacher and student parking and another for guests.  

As my father and I draw closer, I notice small, paved trails leading to various parts of the massive yard, some to small ponds, benches, or other resting areas. They’re lined with very elegant looking bushes and small lights for when it gets dark. It’s hard to tell because the sun is setting, but it looks like some of these trails lead towards the very back of the school. I’m assuming the giant wall surrounds most of these woods that seem to protect the school like a barrier, but the trees are too tall to tell.  

“Wow,” my father gasps as we drive slowly towards the parking lot. “This place is beautiful.”  

“Yeah,” I whisper in awe, glancing around some more in attempt to take everything in.  

It’s hard to imagine Kalene living here. Even though she’s changed so much this year, she’s still the same person to me. And the old Kalene would never even dream of living in such a palace-like place. Maybe that’s changed.  

Most people have arrived considering the show starts in less than fifteen minutes, so my father and I have no trouble making our way to the very front entrance. The front of the Academy has two massive sets of oak doors that are monitored by two other security guards who check out tickets again before letting us inside.  

The entrance is just as beautiful as the outside. The walls are pale blue except for two on the right and left of me, which instead are waterfalls protected by a sheet of glass. Tiny strings of lights hang from the ceiling, making it look like something out of a movie. If my mother saw the lights, I’m sure she would say it looked tacky.  

To me though, it’s gorgeous. The whole room that’s packed with people has already been decorated for the party afterwards, with tables of foods I don’t even know the names of and sets of tables and chairs that have delicate white table clothes and intricate center pieces. I feel out of place here, like this is something only meant for rich and important people.  

My father links his arm through mine and guides me through the crowd to the two large doors ahead that must lead into the auditorium. I gasp for about the third time tonight when he pulls open the door. The entire auditorium looks like it came straight from New York City. Even though the room is only one level, the space is used wisely with three sections that seat an unimaginable amount of people. Only special guests were invited like friends and family of the Majors, so I can’t imagine every seat will be filled. The stage is definitely the main attraction of the whole room. It’s ginormous, the size of my house probably, elegant in a way that makes me wonder how much it cost to build and decorated with a red curtain and golden pillars and arches.  

Once I finally manage to pull my eyes off the magnifying stage, I spot the rest of my family seated in one of the back rows where our seats are and pull my father over to where we’re supposed to sit with them. I smile softly when I see my Aunt Tessa and Uncle Rob sitting with their five kids Mary, who just turned twelve last week; Katie who’s ten; the twins Peter and Linus who are five; and Emilia who’s two. My uncle looks almost exactly like my father considering they’re brothers, both having light brown hair and dark eyes. His cleanly shaved face and shorter height are the only way you can tell them apart.  

My father’s sister, my aunt Jenna, sits next to them with her husband Tyler, then next to them is Grandma Irene and Grandpa Jack. Family became an important thing to all of us after my mother left. Even though no one from her side of the family is here, we all know we have each other.  

“Hey, you two,” Grandpa Jack calls from the end of the row, and everyone’s heads turn simultaneously to me and my father. They all start to yack at us all at once, which makes me smile again. Everyone in my family is loud spoken and energetic like this, except for me, maybe. I say my individual hellos to each one of my family members, then to a few of Kalene’s friends that she keeps in touch with from high school. I sometimes see them in the halls, but I don’t think they ever see me.  

The auditorium quickly fills as the start of the show draws closer. I’m surprised at how full this place is. I can only imagine what the real concerts are like; they must have one hundred times the audience. Even though Kalene’s not one to get stage fright, it must be a little intimidating.  

The auditorium falls silent as the lights finally dim, and a spotlight focuses on the stage as everyone gets settled in their seats. The audience claps politely when a man who looks like he’s in his early forties walks out onto the stage, a microphone in hand and a closed mouth smile on his face. He has very light brown, almost blonde hair with a small beard and a gentle expression. The clapping subsides when he comes to stand in the spotlight with a grin for the audience.  

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Roanin Academy for the concluding convert for the Majors,” he booms into the microphone, and everyone claps again. “On behalf of all our coaches, team, staff, and students, I would like to thank you for joining us to watch our final concert to end another successful year. As all of you know, the Majors will be preparing for the September play, so make sure you confirm your tickets as soon as possible if you have received a personal invitation from one of the Majors.”  

While the Majors vocal coach starts with thank you for everyone that helped this year, I glance around at the dark auditorium. Everyone is staring up at the stage with rapt attention like the winner of a million dollars is about to be announced.  

“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Richard Darious, and I am the coach for the Majors here at the Academy. I’ve been teaching for twenty years and am very pleased to be announcing my nineteenth concert here,” the Majors vocal coach continues, and I look back up at the stage again. “Tonight’s program will include ten solos, one from each of the Majors, five duets, one from each pair of partners, and then one large performance from the group. To start off our concert tonight, I would like to announce Roanin Academy’s first number one Major, Gabriel Walker.”  

The audience starts to cheer again, this time much more loudly, as the Majors coach leaves the stage, and the whole auditorium becomes black.  

The boy that walks out onto the stage looks like he came straight from a California beach. He’s probably around my age, but the way he walks on to the stage with an enormous amount of confidence makes me think that maybe he’s older. I watch as he takes his spot in the center of the stage as his music starts.  

This must be Gabriel Walker.  

He looks really tall for his age, probably around 6’2, and he’s lean but muscular and holds himself very self-assuredly for someone so young. I can’t really see much of his face from where I sit in the very back, but you can’t miss his golden blonde hair that shines in the stage lights. Like I said before, he looks like a California boy.  

The audience is already cheering when he walks out, but I stop mid-clap when he opens his mouth and starts to sing.  

I cannot even begin to think of a word that describes the sound that comes out of his mouth, or even describe it to someone else. Within a second of his singing, I’m able to understand why he’s the number one Major. It’s a voice that sounds like it came from him, and it’s not one of those moments when someone young starts to sing and this big, matured voice comes out of them. He’s confidant but not cocky, projected but modest. There are so many other things I could say about it, but my brain is still trying to process what I’m hearing. His music is definitely something that would be on the top 100 list that’s always popping up on Apple Music. In other words, his song-writing abilities are flawless.  

I grab the program that I have in my lap and flip through until I finally find the page that introduces all the Majors with a headshot and a small paragraph underneath. I spot Gabriel’s black and white photo and squint through the darkness to read the tiny words underneath.  

Gabriel Walker was born August 4th, 2001 in Portland, Oregon where his mother, father, and younger sister currently reside. He first joined the music industry by staring in multiple Broadway productions until he transitioned to Roanin Academy. Gabriel joined the Academy as a number one Junior in 2013 when he was eleven years old, then signed as a number one Major in 2017 when he was fifteen. He is now finishing his fifth year here at Roanin Academy, and his first year as a Major. He has been involved in multiple of the Academy’s September plays and has performed over one hundred concerts since joining the Academy.  

My eyes flit up to his picture where he has an easy smile on his face. I look back up at the stage while he continues to sing. It almost doesn’t feel like he’s a celebrity that millions of people admire. It feels like I’m just watching a normal teenage boy sing. He gets a standing ovation when he’s finished, and I watch as he takes a bow and thanks everyone before leaving the stage. The crowed is going nuts for being so polite earlier. I can only imagine how the real concerts are.  

I glance sideways to my father who has a very pleased look on his face. He turns to meet my gaze, and we both simultaneously smile at each other. I know we’re both thinking the same thing.  

“Pretty cool, huh?” my father whispers, and I nod.  

I turn back to the stage just in time to see the next number one walk onto the stage. She looks beautiful from where I can see her, her long black hair flowing down her back and her smooth, tan skin glistening in the spotlight.  

She looks even more stunning in her headshot. Her facial features are soft and her smile small but beautiful. I look underneath her picture to find more tiny words like Gabriel Walker’s. The only thing interesting I found in her paragraph was she immigrated from Cuba and her name is Maria Diaz.  

I look back up at the stage and can’t help but raise my eyebrows. Something about her gives me the diva vibe. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the tight dress or the pounds of makeup. That doesn’t mean her voice isn’t incredible though. It doesn’t give me the same feeling I got from watching her partner, but something tells me that’s something I won’t get from any of the other Majors.  

The next up is the number two Ethan Commet, a tall boy with chocolatey brown skin and short, dark hair. He’s phenomenal as well and does a lot of things with his voice with different styles of music all in one song.  

Ethan’s partner Lauren Cooper is the next to go. She has bleach blonde hair that she pulls off well and peachy skin. Lauren controls her notes well, probably the reason she has such a high position.  

I cheer extra loudly when Zach is the next to go. As expected, he also has a great voice, but the thing about him that surprises me is how he can sing for a guy.  

My whole family is clapping and cheering like crazy when Kalene is the next to go, and Uncle Tyler even blows a whistle through his fingers. My sister looks beautiful and so at home up on that stage. I haven’t smiled this widely in forever. It feels like just yesterday I was watching her perform in coffee shops or at her school talent show. I still admire her more than anyone else in this world. Her kindness, her passion, her bravery to chase after what she wanted even after our psycho mother told her no. It feels like I’m finally watching the real person she is. I may not know this Kalene as well as I did the old one, but this is the version I need to know.  

After her is Sean Moon, a short blonde kid who is then followed by the other number four Ellie Josh, a girl with red hair and pale skin. The last to go are the number fives, first Logan Nadel then Ariana Bernett. As I watch the last ones go, I’m amazed by how much I enjoyed watching them. It was something different from each of them, something I didn’t expect. I’m now starting to see why they get so much publicity.  

The Majors vocal coach comes back onto the stage once the last solo is finished to introduce the next part of the concert, partner duets. Gabriel and Maria come back onto the stage once he’s finished to start their song. I’m still somehow amazed by Gabriel’s voice when he starts off the song, microphone in hand as he walks back onto the stage with Maria. They song great together off course.  

Lauren and Ethan are a fun pair to watch. They have a chemistry that just fills the room, like the feeling I get when Kalene and Zach preform next. Watching my sister perform with him is so far my favorite part of the show. Seeing her happy with him makes me feel warm inside. I don’t think I have ever seen her this happy with someone since our mother left. Kalene doesn’t like to talk about her feelings, but I know that was a hard time for her. Not just losing our mother but losing us too. Even though she knows the Academy was a blessing for her, that doesn’t make it any less of a hard change. I’m glad she has moved on from that guilt to a place where she belongs. It is good to know there are other people looking out for her besides her family.  

After the duets, it is time for the most popular part of the entire show, the group performance. I have to admit, none of the other previous performances compare to what it is like to watch all ten of them sing together. I have never heard a group that can sing together the way the Majors do. They perform flawlessly while having fun at the same time. I can see it on their faces; the pure joy they get when singing and dancing together. They only sing to each other, not to please anyone but simply because it’s what they love to be.  

The entire auditorium is on their feet once the song is over, and the Majors line up together to take a bow. Seeing Kalene up there along with all these incredibly talented individuals makes me feel proud to be her sister.  

My family is cheering just as loudly as everyone else. Peter and Linus are jumping up and down and Emilia bobs in Aunt Tessa’s arms, Uncle Rob yells with Mary and Katie, Grandpa Jack and Grandma Irene have huge smiles on their faces, and Uncle Tyler and Aunt Jenna are cheering and whistling. I glance sideways to my father, and his proud grin matches mine. In that moment, I’m not thinking about anything else other than the pride I have for my sister.  

Once the curtain closes for the last time, everyone makes their way out to the entrance for the party I crane my neck to try and look ahead, patiently waiting for my sister to finally come to the entrance so I can see her. The room is full of people surrounding me and my family. Everyone is sipping on beverages and talking amongst each other while standing around tables or other areas of the room. Peter and Linus are both eyeing the cookies, but Aunt Tessa says to wait until Kalene gets here. I decide to sit in one of the chairs and clasp my hands together impatiently, only half listening to the conversation about my father’s work.  

I don’t know why, but Eric suddenly pops into my mind again. I can’t believe he was out of my head that entire time the Majors were performing. I glance down at my phone. No word from him. No texts, no calls, nothing. I wonder if he’s still sick.  

Everyone starts to clap lightly, and my head snaps up to where the Majors are now walking in from one of the two hallways that lead of the entrance with Gabriel and Maria in the lead. I clap politely with everyone else until all ten of them are in the entrance and smile softly when I spot my sister with her arm linked through Zach’s. She immediately catches my eye right away, and her smile widens.  

I grin when she bolts over to me.  

“There’s my little sister,” she chirps once she let’s go of Zach and leans over to give me a hug.  

“You were fantastic, Kalene,” I tell her without hesitation, and she pulls back looking overjoyed.  

“I was hoping I would impress you, little flower.”  

I say hello to Zach while Kalene greets my father, then stand to the side while she introduces Zach to the rest of my family. I glance around the entrance at the other guests as my family and Zach chat away while my cousins sit at a nearby table playing a game. When I look around again, it’s obvious that there’s not one person in this room who is not enjoying themselves.  

Zach’s family eventually make their way over to us, and I spend another ten minutes meeting everyone in his large group. I go back to sitting in silence until Kalene yanks me up from my chair and starts guiding me around the room to show me different areas. She shows me the huge waterfall walls that I noticed when I first came in, the giant food table, and then to her favorite part of the whole room. It’s a small corner near the door with an object I didn’t notice when I came in.  

It looks like some sort of easel, but as I draw closer, I notice multiple pictures attached to it.  

“What is this?” I ask when Kalene and I come to stand in front of it.  

“The Picture Board,” she says. “It’s got pictures of the students from every year.”  

I scan over each picture and see she’s right. Dates are etched into small golden plaques under each picture of the Majors, Minors, and Juniors from each year standing in the front of the school as one big group, starting all the way back in 1980.  

“Wow,” I say when my eyes finally land on the past picture with the years 2017-2018 underneath. It’s the first picture Kalene is in. “This is really cool.”  

“Right?” my sister smiles as she admired the board herself. “Like I said, one of my favorite parts of this whole school.”  

I glance over at her.  

“You’re really happy here, aren’t you?”  

She meets my gaze. I can already see her answer.  

“The happiest I’ve ever been.”  

I look back down at the board with a hallow feeling in my stomach.  

“I hope you find something that makes you happy like this one day. I know you will,” she says and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You really deserve it, little sister.”  

I don’t say anything back.  

Only one thought runs through my mind as I sit in my car the next day outside of Eric’s house: This isn’t a good idea. But that’s not enough to stop me from opening the car door, stepping out into the warm air, and walking towards his house. My hands are shaking as I push the doorbell. At first no one answers, and I think maybe he’s not home. But then the door opens, and he’s there. It takes everything in me not to gasp. He looks dead. Bags are under his eyes, his hair is a mess, his eyes are bloodshot, and he looks more like a skeleton than ever. I glance downwards at the baggy worn out clothing that looks like he’s been wearing it for days, and finally at the beer bottle that he has a firm grasp on. Suddenly, I want to slam the door and never come back.  

“E-Eric,” I manage to choke out, “what happened to you?”  

Never in the near two years of knowing him have I seen him like this. Even when he’s angry, he’s still handsome and put together.  

“You,” he growls, and his whole expression suddenly changes from defeated to furious. “I told you not to come here.”  

Before I know what’s happening, he grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me inside, then slams the door with such a force that the pictures on the wall shake. I resist the urge to scream when I feel my hair ripping from my scalp, threatening to tear out at any moment. I can’t hold in the yelp of pain that squeaks out of me when I’m thrown against the wall, and I slide down to the ground hopelessly like I weigh almost nothing. There’s nothing I can do now except close my eyes and wait for it to be over.  

Something smashes above me, and I throw myself on the ground and cover my head from the rainfall of glass that showers down over me. The sharp edges prick into my hands like needles and tears sprinkle from my eyes as I try to focus on the itching carpet against my nose instead.  

“I told you not to come here!” Eric yells, and his hands are on me again. Sharp pain shoots through me as he grabs me by the hair again and jerks me upward. I can’t hear anything else he says after that. All I can focus on is the pain searing through my sides, and that’s it. I can’t think of anything else. I don’t know how long it lasts. I lay there hopelessly, the only thing holding me up being the tight grip he has on my hair. I can’t get my voice to scream or cry, which leaves me sitting there worthless.  

I’m so used to this it doesn’t even hurt as badly. The thousand hits to my body somehow hurt just as bad as the words he’s screaming at me. They say words hurt more than actual pain, but they might as well be the same thing. My head jerks sideways at some point and lands on the wall with a picture of a lake. It’s funny how I’ve never noticed that picture before.  

The tears coming out of my eyes are not because of his rock-hard hands. It’s because I do not want this anymore. I do not want to be here. I cannot find a way out. I cannot find it. I close my eyes and try to picture something. Anything.  

I barely hear the door open, but I feel the cold air and the hard pavement. It feels weird against my cheek. Not like the carpet; it is not as scratchy. I can feel blood seeping somewhere through my shirt sleeve on my arm. I glance around me at all the blurry objects, trying to get my eyes to focus on something that could calm me. It’s starting to get dark outside, and here I am, laying on the ground outside of Eric’s house bleeding profusely from my arm, begging God to let me die on the pavement.  

~0o0~ 

I curse under my breath as I try to pick out the glass pricking out from my skin as I sit in my car, hidden in the back corner of the park once more while I try to work on my right forearm from the ceiling light. I bite my lip and try to hold back a scream as I pry the large piece of glass from my skin. I toss it on the napkins I have spread out across the dashboard then throw the tweezers on to the passenger seat next to me. Working as quickly as I can with one arm, I reach back into the first aid kit and grab a giant band aid and stick it over my cut. I let out a breath and lean back into the headrest. All I can hope for now is that all the glass is out. The last thing I need is an infection.  

I jump in my seat as my phone starts to vibrate beside me, and I glance over to see Kalene’s name flashing across the screen. Why is she calling me at nine o’clock at night? I reach over and grab it off the seat, then answer cautiously.  

“Hello?”  

“Hi, Christi,” she chirps into the phone.  

I don’t know why, but my eyes start to water. Just imagining not hearing that beautiful voice of hers makes me feel depressed inside. And to think that a few hours ago, I could have died.  

“Christi. Christi, are you there?”  

“Oh yeah, sorry.”  

I bite my lip and look down at my lap, trying to swallow the giant lump in my throat.  

“Are you ok? You sound like you’ve been crying.”  

I hear voices coming from the other side of the phone and in the background. I wonder if she’s with the other Majors.  

“Yeah, I’m good,” I tell her, continuing my efforts to hold back tears.  

“Are you sure?”  

Loud laughter erupts in the background and tears start to fall silently down my cheeks.  

“Um, if you’re busy you can just call me back later,” I say, but the last thing I want her to do is hang up. I just need to hear her voice.  

“No, no, sorry about them. I’ll find somewhere quiet.”  

The voices fade, and now all I can hear is her.  

“So,” she starts, “what’s up?”  

“Um, nothing, just . . . sitting here. Why’d you call me?”  

“I just wanted to say hi to my little sister. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”  

“I saw you yesterday, Kalene.”  

“Too long!” she shrieks into the phone, and I cringe at her loud voice. “We need to do something. What do you think? Movie? Bowling? Pizza?”  

I cannot even imagine going out into the real world to do something like bowling. I don’t want to be followed by people staring at her either, and I don’t want to be surrounded by security guards like I’m a fragile doll. I just want my sister.  

“Can you come home?”  

“Sure,” she says simply.  

If it was that easy, she’d be home every weekend, but she always has some kind of interview going on during the weekends. To be with me, she’s probably going to have to cancel a million things.  

“We can rent a movie and order pizza, and I’ll buy some ice cream,” she continues cheerfully.  

“Ok,” I smile softly into the phone.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow at six. Sound good?”  

“Perfect.”  

“Great. I love you, Christi. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”  

“I love you too, Kalene,” I say faintly. “See you tomorrow.”  

She hangs up, and I keep the phone to my ear even when it starts to beep in my ear.  

The school is already bustling the next morning since I’m running a little late, mostly because I fell asleep in my car again and forgot to set an alarm. My father texted me asking where I was, and I told the same lie I always do about sleeping over at a friend’s house. It works every time.  

The beginning of the day drags on, and I’m already worn out by the time I get to lunch. Eric is not here again. I’m starting to wonder if he’s dropped out of school. I decide to just leave the cafeteria for the day and go outside to eat my sandwich in peace. I don’t want to sit by myself with the rest of his stupid friends.  

The wind starts to blow lightly as I push the doors open and step out into the deserted backyard of the school. I find a spot a good distance away on a hill facing the woods where I decide to sit and eat my lunch peacefully. I lit it better out here, where I do not have people watching me all the time; what I eat, what I’m wearing, what I’m doing. I feel at peace here, without Eric. I finally feel separated from him for the first time this whole year. He can’t find me out here. And even though I am curious as to where he is now, for now, I do not have to think about that.  

I sit there for a long time before I hear the bell ring from the school behind me, and I’m forced to stand. Now I have to go back to the spell of high school. The hopeless feeling of being invisible, but not enough to have things like what you’re wearing slip under someone’s nose. I slouch back inside and slide back into the crowd of students like nothing ever happened, because that blissful lunch might as well just disappear from my memory. I put my head back down to the ground and put my hands in my sweatshirt pockets just like things are supposed to be.  

I watch the two kids in front of me pass a note back and forth during my last period of the day as the seconds drag by and tap my foot impatiently as the clock ticks loudly in the deadly silent classroom. I have been thinking about seeing my sister all day, and I cannot wait to see her car pullup in the driveway like old times when she came home from musical rehearsal, sometimes with a special treat for dinner.  

I cry into my pillow with the failed test still clutched to my chest like a baby all because on letter ruined my entire day. I was so excited to go to Monica’s house after school, but I ended up cancelling because I am so upset.  

“Christi,” a faint voice whispers from my doorway, but my crying doesn’t halt. “It’s Kalene. Daddy and I went out and got you something.”  

I pull my snotty, splotched face out of my pillow and look over at my sister where she stands hesitantly at the edge of my bed, and I spot the bag she has gripped in her hand.  

“We weren’t really sure what to get you, but there were these cinnamon roll things you could get that came with this cream cheese frosting. I though you might like it,” she says.  

I sit up some more and she moves to sit next to me. Neither of us talk as Kalene opens the bag and pulls out the mini cinnamon rolls and cream cheese frosting, splits then evenly by sticking her finger down the middle and spreads them apart, then pops open the lid on the frosting. No words are said as the two of us dig into the treat her and my father magically brought home one day, and things suddenly feel ten times better.  

I’m the first one out of the room when the bell rings.  

I walk over to my locker and tug it open, and millions of papers suddenly come spilling out onto the floor around me, successfully covering my feet so I can’t even see my shoes. My mouth falls open, and I look back up into my locker. All the paper from my binders and folders are ripped out and thrown around my locker, some crumpled up on the top shelf, shoved into my coat pocket, and in my textbooks. I reach a shaking hand forward to grab a handful of shreds that are piled up on top. I’m now recognizing it as my chemistry homework that’s due tomorrow. I hear a snigger behind me, and I slowly turn around. Jason stands there with the rest of his gang looming behind him holding in their laughter as they lean up against the lockers across from mine. Rachel and Tony are both there. Eric is not. Jason snorts again, then beckons the group to follow him, and they all slither away.  

I bite my lip and turn back to my trashed things, willing myself not to cry. I will just stay a little late and clean this up. It is not that big of a deal. I feel everyone’s eyes on me as they file out of the school, but the only thing I can do is get to work as the people around me slowly start to shuffle out. It is just me and the janitors when I am done. A few of my papers are gone forever since they have been ripped beyond repair, but for the most part, I’m able to get most things back in the right folders and binders.  

No matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to think of a reason why Jason and his stupid gang would choose my locker to destroy. I know I shouldn’t worry about it because they probably just picked a random locker and vandalized it since that’s the kind of thing they do . . . but thinking of my papers spilling out on to the floor still brings and unsettling feeling to my stomach.  

The parking lot is nearly empty now that school has been over for about an hour or so, minus the few cars that belong to teachers. My car is parked in the back of the school which is completely empty except for a few vehicles near mine. I throw my backpack in the backseat, then turn to get in the driver’s side but stop when I realize who is parked next to me.  

Eric.  

I run to the back of the car, confirming my suspicions when checking the license plate. My heart starts to beat frantically, and my mind is spinning like a top. I jerk my head around wildly, looking around me for any sign of him. The wind blows fiercely around me, and a sudden feeling of unease settles in my stomach like I’m being watched. Things feel like they are closing in on me all at once, and I can feel panic boiling in my stomach. I turn to face the woods in search of any sign of danger, and suddenly feel the strong urge to run. I need to get out of here. It doesn’t matter where Eric is right now, I need to get somewhere safe.  

But before I can even do anything, a hand latches onto my arm, and I nearly scream until I see who it is.  

“Eric! What are you —”  

“Say another word, and I’ll kill you.”  

I can feel the color drain from my face when he pulls back his jacket the slightest bit, and I spot the shiny silver blade sticking out of his inside jacket pocket. I stand there with my mouth, which has suddenly gone dry, hanging open. He tugs me forward, and I am suddenly trapped in the backseat of his truck.  

I will never forget the day my father took me and my sister to the zoo for the first time. Kalene was five, and I had just turned four. We had both wanted to go for the longest time, but when our father showed us a picture the new baby gorilla Jasper, we begged him for a whole week to take us. He eventually gave in, and the three of us left that Saturday in October.  

Kalene and I had so much fun running around looking at the different animals and pretending we were zoologists. The baby gorilla was by far the highlight of the trip, of course. The new gorilla was the cutest thing my four-year old brain had ever seen. So cute, if fact, I could not take my eyes off it. When my father and sister eventually moved on to the next animal, I was left behind with Jasper. It sounds cruel to say they forgot about me, but in a way, they did.  

I got bored quickly having the attention span of a four-year old and turned away from the glass. But neither my father nor Kalene were in sight.  

“Daddy!” I called out, my eyes frantically searching around the crowd for my family. “DADDY!”  

I had started to cry, panicked and terrified with my back pressed to the glass. It is a scary thing to be separated from your family at a young age, at any age really. That was the first time I had felt truly scared, and even more importantly, truly alone. My father and sister eventually found me, but that terror stayed with me the rest of the day. I did not let go of Kalene’s hand until we got back to the car.  

That emotion is the first to run through me when I am thrown in the smelly backseat. Not even on the seat. On the floor. I decide to stay put instead of trying to move myself into an actual seat so I can buckle. I am too petrified to move.  

The drive to Eric’s house is exactly ten minutes and two seconds. We timed it once as a joke. Now it feels like an hour, and when I count the seconds in my head, it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore.  

He does not say anything during the ride. All I can hear is the hum of the truck. I do not try to look at him or listen for any sign of what he is planning to do to be. All I can think of is that knife in his pocket. Everything else feels like a nightmare right now, or like I was suddenly thrown into a horror movie.  

I can barely hear, see, or feel what’s going on around me. Like when the truck stops and the door opens, and I’m grabbed by the arm and dragged across the garage, inside, and up the steps to the kitchen, or when my legs bang off another flight of stairs that lead to his room. I haven’t been up here in months. It’s a lot different. Mostly because of the smell. He used to have this air freshener that smelled like lavender. I guess he doesn’t have that anymore.  

I am thrown into the wall with a loud bang, and my temple suddenly bursts with pain. I slink to the ground feeling completely numb. You would think in a moment like this I would be scared, but I cannot seem to get myself to think about what is happening. Eric could do anything to me right now, and it would not affect me at all. His nails dig into my arm, and I cry out in pain as he shoves me to the ground again.  

“I told you not to come here yesterday,” he hisses into my ear and kicks me hard in the side. I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on keeping myself quiet. “I’ve had enough of you not listening to me.”  

He reaches down and hits my face so hard it is sure to leave a mark.  

“I’m sorry, Eric, I’m so sorry,” I try to choke out, gasping for air from where he’s knocked the wind out of me. “I’m sorry.”  

“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” he roars and continues to kick me hard in the stomach.  

I gasp and cough for air that is not coming. Blood comes spurting out of my mouth and I watch it blotch the carpet of his room. Fear runs through me more than it ever has when I look up at him again. It almost feels like I am looking at a whole new person. He does not even look like himself. A mania runs through him and takes over his entire body to the point where I can barely recognize him.  

“NOTHING YOU DO IS EVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME, CHRISTI!”  

Tears and blood mix together as I lay there listening to the things he is saying while letting him hurt every part of me, inside and out. It almost feels like the words are making the physical pain even worse. If I tried to explain that to anyone else, they would not understand.  

“I’M SO DONE WITH YOU! YOU’VE MADE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL FOR SO LONG, AND I’M DONE!”  

Every single part of me is screaming. I can’t keep myself from crying anymore even though that’s the worst possible thing I could do right now. That numb feeling I felt just a second ago is gone and replaced with a giant hole in my chest. Everything hurts so badly. I cannot keep it in anymore.  

Eric grabs my foot and jerks me so I’m flat on my back, then grabs my arms and pins them above my head. I feel exposed and trapped just like Jasper in that cage at the zoo. My head is pounding, and I can feel blood building up in the back of my throat. I jerk around and try to spit it up so I don’t choke, but nothing I am doing is working. All I can put my attention in to now is that knife I saw earlier that Eric is now pulling out of his jacket.  

I wonder if this is the moment I’m going to die; blood coming from my mouth, every part of my body aching, Eric trapping me on the carpet of his room. He shows no emotion as he slowly presses the sharp end to my neck and holds it there with no expression. I stop moving and go silent as I stare up at him, wondering if he’s going to do what I know is running through his mind. Pushing that blade right though my neck so this can all be over.  

But that is not what happens. Instead, he ever so slowly traces my skin, without tearing it, down my neck, across my shoulder and very slowly up my arm before he stops right where the band-aid I put on yesterday is. The blade is cool against my skin, and it would almost feel nice if it was not a weapon that could kill me. I close my eyes again and my lip quivers as he slowly peals it back. I already know what he’s going to do. I try to picture something else.  

I wonder what time it is. Is Kalene home yet? I wonder if she knows I am missing.  

My screams pierce through the room as Eric’s knife digs into my arm right where I had to pick out the glass yesterday. Nothing has hurt more in my entire life. It is like I’m plunging into a thousand needles. Even though it is only my arm, it feels like a million knives are being pushed into my skin instead of just one. I scream so loudly my throat burns, and my feet dig into the carpet. He drags down slowly, and I can feel my skin ripping apart like stitching in fabric.  

I scream and cry, begging for him to stop. The room is going blurry and foggy. My insides are going cold and my mouth is now completely dry. I do not even feel it when he pulls the knife out of me. It still feels like he is dragging it down my arm. I am shivering on the ground and blood from my arm is pooling around me when he gets off me. I don’t know what is happening when he tosses the knife aside and grabs my hair instead and smashes it against the wall so hard it makes everything turn white. All it takes it two painful hits until I am finally out.  

Is this what death feels like? It is a lot more painful than I thought it would be. My arm is still throbbing, but I cannot open my eyes because they are too heavy. I never really thought about what things would be like after death. Heaven? My family’s not really religious, so I have never really thought about it. Now that I am dying, I really wish I had. Then I could have something to look forward to when I die. But I never thought I would die so young. I always pictured myself growing old, living a full life. But that is not what I am left with now.  

“Are you awake?” I hear a faint voice whisper, and I struggle to open my eyes. I have no idea where I am.  

Things finally start to come into vision as my eyes flutter open. A bed, a desk, a dresser, someone sitting down across from me.  

I’m still in Eric’s room.  

I almost start crying again because I would rather be dead then back here. I want to go back to that world of dead silence and dark. It is much better than whatever world I am living in now. I am still laying on my side with my torn arm stretched out in front of me. It is still bleeding so I cannot have been out for long, but the room is now nearly pitch black so it must be near night.  

“I remember the first time I met you, Christi,” Eric whispers, and I lift my eyes up to him because that is the only part of me that can move. He has something in his hand that I cannot see. I wonder if it is another device that will try to kill me. “I liked you at first, I really did. That first year we were together . . . .”  

His voice trails off, and I force myself to stay so I can listen to what he has to say. I never thought calm mania was a thing, but now I know it is.  

“Something about this year has been different. I didn’t know what it was, but now I realize, it was you.”  

I feel another part of my heart shatter. I did this to myself.  

“I’ve had enough of you.”  

He reaches out his claw like hand and seizes my throat then tugs me upwards so I’m against the wall. My head is pounding so badly I do not think I can take it any longer. I can barely see straight. Everything is turning white and fuzzy. When he pulls the gun out into the moonlight, I think I am hallucinating. I cannot seem to come up with an explanation of how he got it. Even though I do not trust my eyes, there is no denying it is real when he pushes it to my forehead. It is cold like ice.  

My mind cannot seem to register that with one small movement of his finger, I could be dead. Somehow, that really does not seem to faze me. I might as well be with all this pain I am feeling right now, not just physically, but emotionally too. I look up into his eyes, trying to figure out what is going on in his head. I can’t tell what he’s going to do. What I see makes me realize that I have never seen his face so dead.  

“Do it, Eric,” I whisper. It is a struggle to get my voice to work. I hurts my throat so badly I want to start crying. “Please,” I choke, “I’m asking you. Please just kill me.”  

Saying it out loud makes me realize how much I want it to happen. I have nothing else to live for anymore. I do not want to stay here any longer. If this is the way things are going to be forever, then I don’t want anything to do with it.  

He does not say anything. He does not do anything. We just stare at each other for what feels like hours. Him with my life in his hands and me slumped against the wall already dead. I thought that I would be thinking of the good thing in life when I die. But right now, I am thinking of absolutely nothing.  

It al happens so quickly.  

The gun turns. Everything seems to flash. My eyes widen, and I shriek so my throat burns again. The trigger is pulled, and I watch it all. The life drains from Eric’s eyes and his face turns sheet white. Maybe if I ha not been looking in his eyes, it would be less horrific. That does not mean it is any less terrifying to watch a person that was alive just a second ago die. One send, they are here; the next, they are gone.  

A loud ringing fills my ears as his lifeless body hits the floor.  

I cannot seem to get any part of my body to work. My muscles feel like concrete, and my mouth is open in absolute shock. My voice is gone again, but a scream is climbing up my throat. I cannot hear anything but the ringing in my ears.  

I try to lunge at him, but all I can do is fall to the ground and grit my teeth so I do not scream and tear my throat. Ringing is all I can hear. Eric’s dead body is all I can see. Blood and smoke are all I can smell. The stabbing pain inside of me is all I can feel. I plant my hands on the ground and try to push myself off the ground again, but my head screams and I fall back down. Blood and tears mix together as they roll down my face, and I give in and start to cry and scream desperately for him to come back to me.  

He’s gone.  

My arm is starting to throb again with the rest of my body as I reach out to try and grab a part of him like touching him will bring the life back, but I can barely lift my arm. My mind is shutting down the longer I throw myself at him in any attempt to get to him. It does not feel real. It cannot be real. This ringing I am hearing is just telling me it was all a false alarm.  

Yet somehow, ringing is still the only thing I am hearing even when the door bursts open, and a flood of light fills the room. Tiny spots blur my vision, and before I can do anything else, I feel my head slam to the ground and go blank as I hit the floor again.  

Everything is silent again. There is no ringing. No gunshots. No screaming. I feel like I’m dreaming, but all I can see is black. It feels nice for everything to be quiet for once I can just sit here and not move and listen to the silence. I cannot think of anything except this beautiful dark. This beautiful nothing. Now all I have to do is be here. A soft beeping sound suddenly rings through the pitch black, and things start to lighten bit by bit. The whole area brightens until I am sick of the sudden shining light, and I struggle to pull open my heavy eyelids.  

I am in some sort of white hospital room in a small section closed in by curtains. My entire face feels stiff when I to squint against the bright lights. It is just as frozen as the rest of my body. I try to examine myself from where I am propped up in the hospital bed. One of my arms has a million wires connected to it and the other looks severely bandaged. There is an oxygen mask on my face and tubes stuck up my nose. I cannot seem to figure out what is going on. Why am I in a hospital room, and why are my ribs tingling every time I breathe?  

I try to glance around the room to the best of my ability considering I cannot move my head. Everything is blank and beeping and depressing. I almost flinch when my eyes land on the group of nurses in front of me, all watching me intently.  

“Hi, Christi,” one of them says gently. “Can you hear me?”  

Some sort of weird gurgling sound comes out of my throat, and the nurses smile.  

“Jeanene, can you go tell her dad she’s waking up?” the nurse who was talking to me says, and one of the other nurses leaves.  

I try to will my eyes to adjust to my surrounding some more.  

“She’s stabilized,” another nurse says. “I’ll go get Dr. Fitz.”  

I make another strange noise, this one a lot more distinct. I am desperately trying to process what is happening, but my brain starts to pound and feel awfully foggy. The door suddenly opens, and the nurse who left earlier comes back in.  

“Her dad is waiting outside,” she says, “and Dr. Fitz is on his way.”  

My eyes flit around some more as I try to take in what is happening.  

“Where?” I cough, and my voice suddenly feels odd and scratchy.  

“It’s ok, sweetie,” one of the nurses says. “You don’t need to talk just yet.”  

Just a moment later, the door opens again, and a tall man comes wandering in with a clipboard.  

“What — where,” I try again, buy my throat start to hurt again.  

“Hello, Christi,” the man says as he wanders over to me. “My name is Dr. Fitz. I’m glad to see that you’ve woken up. You’ve been in a coma for about two weeks now.”  

Coma?  

“What?” I manage to croak out. “Where — where am I?”  

I desperately try to lift myself so I can see better, but my ribs shoot with pain and I let one of the nurses push me gently back on to the bed.  

“You’re in the ICU in the hospital,” Dr. Fitz tells me calmly.  

“Why am I —”  

Then it all comes back, and my eyes widen. Eric is gone.  

“Eric,” I whisper, looking away from the group of people around my bed to the door. “He’s dead. He’s gone.”  

Tears are streaming down my face and over the bandages. I squeeze my eyes shut, and I can see him again, his broken eyes and twisted body. I cannot cry as much as I want to since my abdomen is stabbing with pain, so I try to control my sobbing as a few of the nurses come rushing forward. My breathing increases significantly and the monitor next to me starts to beep faster. The panic is welling up inside me the more I think about what just happened to me. I just want to go back to my dead-like dream where everything was dark and quiet. Where I did not have to think about anything. I look over at my heart monitor. It is strange to think that line could be flat if Eric had not turned that gun, and I would have died instead. It would have been better that way.  

A few of the women huddle around me and try to say things to calm me down, but all I can think about is the cold body that was Eric laying on the floor of his own bedroom.  

“It’s ok, Christi,” Dr. Fitz says, but it is not. Nothing is ok. Eric is gone. He is dead.  

I do not say anything and glance at the nurses huddled around me as I try to calm down.  

“That’s it. Deep breaths. I promise you’re safe here.”  

I try to focus on what he is saying instead because every time I breathe my ribs shoot with pain. I do not feel very safe right now. I know Eric is not.  

My breathing slowly levels out again, and I clutch on to the edge of the bed with my hand that is not wrapped in bandages.  

“Where’s my dad?” I choke as I rigidly sit in my bed. He will tell me this is all a bad dream and Eric is not actually dead. It was all fake. “I want my dad.”  

“He’s waiting outside for you,” the nurse called Jeanene tells me.  

“She’s stabilized enough,” Dr. Fitz says. “You can go get him.”  

Jeanene leaves, and the other nurses just stand there and watch while Dr. Fitz takes notes on his clipboard. A split second later, the door opens again.  

My father looks like he has not slept in weeks. His hair is greasy and tangled, and his clothes look wrinkled and dirty. It calms me to see him even though I have never seen him look so distressed. I try to lift my arm to reach out to him, but my muscles are so stiff I do not make it very far, and my arm falls limply back on the bed.  

“Christi,” he squeaks and timidly takes a step forward like he is afraid I might explode.  

I watch stilly as he comes over to me and rests his forehead gently. His hands are cool, but they feel amazing against my burning skin.  

“You’re awake,” he whispers. His eyes look glassy like he is about to cry.  

“Dad,” I croak, and he smiles tightly.  

“Oh, Christi,” he whispers, his voice cracking. A few tears slip down his face and dissolve in his short beard, and the panic inside grows. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry —”  

“Dr. Rodgers,” Dr. Fitz quickly interrupts. “Let’s not discuss this now, please. We need to keep Christi stable to run some tests.”  

My father nods and quietly steps away from me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so scared.  

“How are you feeling, Christi?” Dr. Fitz asks calmly after a few moments of silence.  

I want to tell him that I have a headache from his ear-splitting voice, and I am anything but fine. But I do not say anything like that.  

“I don’t know,” I say weakly, and my heart stabs at the sound of my own voice.  

“Well, it’s good to hear you. It looks like you haven’t lost any of your senses yet and your speech is still intact.”  

“What are you talking about?” I rasp. My voice feels scratchy like I have not used it in months.  

“You’ve been in a coma, Christi,” my father reminds me, and I look over at him. “It’s been nearly two weeks.”  

“Oh.”  

“I would like to do some light assessments and then I’ll let you rest for a little. We just need to check some of your behavior so we can start to get a grip of how your recover will go. Some patients show different reactions and knowing these will show us what life is going to look like for you now. Some lose speech, their ability to walk, talk, or even eat. We’ll go over your other injuries later so you can have some time to process if that’s what you’d like.”  

“Ok.”  

“Your memory seems to be in ok shape seeing as you remember about Eric,” Dr. Fitz says calmly. “Other than maybe the few hours before . . . your accident.”  

Everything inside of me seems to start screaming again. My accident.  

“We’ll talk more about that later,” he adds quickly. “For now, I’m just going to do some light assessments.”  

For the next twenty minutes, Dr. Fitz does all sorts of things, from checking my blood pressure to just having me speak. He tells me from the look of things, I won’t be too affected by the coma. He tells me some more about the traumatic brain injury I apparently have, and how lucky I am that it’s not too severe. I don’t feel very lucky.  

The nurses keep me hooked up to the millions of wires connected to me. They try to give me some food and water, but I barely consume anything. Right now, I do not think I could shove food down my throat even if I was dying. After that, Dr. Fitz says we’ll talk about my other injuries in an hour or so because he wants to give me time to talk to my father.  

“Try not to fall back asleep before I come back,” he says. “We’re going to be keeping one of the nurses in here to monitor your behavior, and hopefully this will give us some more information. If you have any questions your dad can probably answer them for you, but don’t go too overboard. Just try to relax and recover.”  

I don’t say anything. He nods politely then leaves with all but one nurse, who stations herself in a corner and starts copying down more things on a clipboard. My father doesn’t say anything after Dr. Fitz is gone. I think he’s at a loss for words. I glance around the room again, trying to find something to look at. There aren’t even any windows in this room. I can hear the distant murmur and talk of other patients around me, and I just now seem to remember that I am in the ICU with a bunch of other people.  

“I’m going to call Kalene and tell her you’re awake,” my father says finally.  

He steps aside to call my sister while I sit there, not sure what to do. None of this feels real. I can’t be here in this hospital bed right now. Eric cannot be dead. It’s just some weird dream. I’ll wake up soon and see that this was all fake, and I can go back to my normal life. I was really expecting my father to tell me all of this, but so far, it is not looking promising.  

While my father talks to my sister, I try to rack my brain some more. The last thing I really remember is being thrown into Eric’s room. I have other bits and pieces like my trashed locker, visiting him the day before my accident, and some random vision of going to Kalene’s end of year concert. The morning of the concert is where things really start to get blotchy and funny, and I can’t remember much from those few days.  

“Kalene’s on her way,” my father says once he is done. “She’s really excited to see you.”  

Normally those words would make me jump for joy. But right now, they don’t have an affect me. I don’t really want my sister to see me like this. What am I even going to say to her?  

“How are you?” my father asks as he sits back down next to me, and I turn my head slightly to look at him.  

“Ok, I shouldn’t have said that,” he admits. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

“No,” I whisper, and I suddenly feel like I want to cry again even though I know there are no tears.  

My father clearly wants to talk about it, but I can’t right now. I know he has so many questions, but everything hurts so badly right now I can’t do anything but sit here. My head pounds, my ribs throb, and my face feels like needles, but worst of all, my heart aches. A stabbing pain worse than anything I have ever felt takes over my entire body, almost like I was just struck a million times and my body is left crippling under it all, starting with my toes then all the way up to my head. The pain from everything I have gone through this year clashes together, and everything suddenly feels like it’s all my fault.  

“Do you want to look at some of these cards I brought?” my father suddenly asks to break the awkward silence and reaches inside his jacket. “Your cousins made you about fifty, but I only brought a few.”  

He hands me one of the handmade cards that one of my cousins made. It is bright orange and has scribbles all over the front. I use my hand that is not bandaged beyond usage and gently flip it open. Linus has his name signed at the bottom around millions of balloons and the words Get Well Soon written about ten times. Normally, seeing this would make me smile. But now, it doesn’t. Not only because I haven’t been able to move my face since I woke up, but also because I can’t stop thinking about how Eric should be the one getting these. Not me. I should be dead. I could have been dead. I only look at the rest of the cards for the benefit of my father. It’s the least I can do for him right now.  

He was right when he said most of the things were from my cousins. He says the rest of my family got me cards, flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, and whatever else, but they’re not allowed in the ICU. I am sure my father was expecting cards from my classmates. There is one from my teachers, and one from my entire grade that has zero signatures, only the words: From, the Sophomore Class. But none from my supposed friends. I wonder what my classmates think happened to me. Do they know about Eric?  

I look over to my father who has his head propped up in his hand and is staring at the ground seemingly deep in thought.  

“Do the kids at school know what happened?” I ask, and he looks up.  

“They know you were in a coma from a traumatic brain injury,” he says. “I think someone told them it was a car accident.”  

I look away.  

“Kalene hasn’t said anything to the press,” he adds. “But the Majors know. They made you a card and got you some flowers.”  

I look back at him in alarm.  

“Wait, what?”  

“Relax, Christi,” he sighs. “No one knows anything besides the fact that you were in a coma.”  

“And what about . . . .” my voice trails off. I cannot even get myself to say it.  

“Everyone knows about Eric,” my father says quietly. “No one knows you were . . . that you were there.”  

I swallow the lump in my throat. I should be thankful that I was left out of the story. But the fact that it was for Kalene’s sake and not mine makes me angry. Maybe they covered it up to avoid publicity for me, but I think it was just to avoid the drama for her. Having a sister that got nearly beat to death doesn’t look good for her. But if the kids at school know I am here will that not raise some suspicion? A car crash is not a very convincing cover story in this situation. My head is starting to hurt form thinking about all of this, so I close my eyes for a moment.  

“This is the card the Majors made,” my father says and hands me a pink card with a drawing of a small teddy bear on the front.  

I open it and stare blankly at all their perfect autographs that I am sure they have written a million times. I do not recognize any of their names. Just like those few days before my accident, I can’t really remember that day I saw them at the concert. A part of me says that maybe I should mention that to Dr. Fitz, but another roars with defiance towards him.  

My father is still staring at the ground when the door opens, and my sister steps inside timidly. Just seeing her makes me want to start crying. To think that I could have never seen her again makes me feel ashamed and guilty at the same time. Ashamed because just a few minutes ago, I was thinking about how much I wanted to die. Guilty because Eric will never have this again.  

It’s strange. My father is glued to his seat looking cautiously between me and my sister like both of us are about to explode. Kalene and I are just staring at each other. I’m sure we both thought that I wasn’t going to wake up.  

“Christi,” she whispers timidly and steps into the room, “you’re awake. Oh my God, you’re awake.”  

She walks over to me, grabs my bandage free hand and squeezes it gently. Her hand is warm and makes me feel a little better. Some part of my face twinges a little almost like I am trying to smile, but I just cannot bring myself to do it.  

“Hi, Kalene,” I croak, and tears start to fill her eyes. “Please don’t cry.”  

I limply reach my arm up to wipe her face and try to muster up some type of look that will make her feel better because crying is the last thing I want her to do, but my face still will not move. As soon as my hand touches her skin, she starts sobbing loudly as she grabs my hand out of midair and grips it tightly.  

“I thought you were going to die, Christi,” she wails, and I can feel myself starting to tear without any actual tears falling.  

All other conversation in the ICU from the other patients and nurses ceases. I’m not even upset for myself. I’m upset for her.  

“I thought you were going to die.”  

She falls to her knees with my hand still in hers. I do not know what to say. All I can do is sit there and watch her cry at my feet and let her grip my hand. My father comes over and kneels next to her and holds her tightly, his other hand on my leg. We look at each other for a second, and in that moment, I’m happy that I’m not dead.  

~0o0~ 

“In total, that’s mild head trauma, 150 stiches on your right arm, several cuts and bruises, and two broken ribs. You’re doing well healing from the broken ribs, but you may continue to feel some pain since you’re still technically in recovery. It’ll take about six weeks, and we’ll still have some restrictions for you now.”  

I stare blankly ahead and fiddle with one of the wires attached to my arm since my rose necklace is missing form my neck.  

“We’re going to move you from the ICU to recovery tomorrow now that you’re awake, but you’ll be staying here overnight so we can monitor you. You should be staying in the hospital for at least a week until we have a hold on everything and think you’re healthy enough to go home,” Dr. Fitz continues reading off his clipboard. “Tomorrow, we’ll try to get you out of bed and try to get you to walk around a bit before moving to recovery.”  

I don’t like the way Dr. Fitz is talking about me. He’s making it sound like I’m broken beyond repair. It does kind of feel that way.  

“It’s important to know that life after a coma is different for everyone. I’m not going to lie; recovery is going to be really hard. It could take months, maybe even years.”  

Nothing he is saying is making me feel better. If anything, it is making me feel worse. My life is never going to be the same. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. They don’t even know how messed up I am yet. Just having to live with the memory of watching someone die is terrible enough.  

“But given the circumstances, I think you should be happy you’re alive.”  

My sister gives my hand a squeeze next to me, and I look over to find if there is any hope in her eyes. Any hope that my life is not ruined.  

“Tomorrow will really be the day we find everything that’s going on, and hopefully we’ll have a plan for your recovery,” he concludes and clicks his pen on his clipboard. “Any questions?”  

“Can I take this bandage off my arm?” I ask and raise my arm that has the supposed 150 stiches. I know what it’s from. The knife.  

Dr. Fitz look to my father then back to me.  

“Are you sure? It may cause some . . . emotional distress,” his voice trails off awkwardly, but my expression doesn’t change.  

“Take it off, please.”  

“Christi,” my father starts.  

“Take it off.”  

Dr. Fitz sighs, then nods to one of the nurses. I watch as she slowly unwinds the layers of bandage from my arm until I can finally see my deadly pale skin.  

Kalene lets out a squeak and covers her mouth with her hand. I guess she hasn’t seen it either. I can see why she had the reaction she did. If my sister got a scar like this from her boyfriend dragging a knife down her arm, I would have that reaction too. It runs jaggedly down the entire inside of my forearm like a snake, and just looking at it makes me feel the exact same pain I had when it was split. It all suddenly feels real. The person I loved did this to me.  

On the outside I look completely fine, but on the inside, I’m dying. It feels like my insides are shaking. I can practically see all my organs jiggling in their own individual jars like in the creepy movies Kalene forces me to watch. I turn my arm the other way so I can’t see it and look back to Dr. Fitz.  

“Am I going to need to take any medication?”  

“Only for a few weeks, hopefully. You can take pain killers too, but I’ll be prescribing some and you can only take two a day along with other specific instructions. You need to be monitored, and—”  

I stop listening after that.  

Being in the hospital is already tragic, but the ICU makes it even worse. It’s full of all these huge machines that I have no idea what any of the names are or what they do, and the beeping from my heart rate monitor is annoying. Plus, there’s nothing to do with the state I am in, so it is just me and my thoughts in this stupid plastic looking bed. I don’t like listening to the other patients around me wither. There is a man next to me who my father said is also in a coma, and an old woman on my other side who is going into heart surgery tomorrow morning.  

My father tries to keep me distracted with talking about his crossword, and Kalene keeps rambling about this new movie that came out while I was asleep that she loves, but I’m not listening. My father says no one else is allowed to visit me while I am in the ICU, but my grandparents will be the first to visit when I make it to the recovery room. The last thing I want right now is to be alone, and I’m bored out of my mind. But on the other hand, I’m not in the mood for talking to anyone, and I’m tired of all the awkward conversation because no one wants to talk about how I got here. I hate the way people are treating me; I’m just an animal on exhibit.  

I lay in bed the entirety of the day watching old Friends reruns on my father’s computer, then Kalene leaves to go back to the Academy for dinner. My father stays with me until I fall asleep, then goes home so he can sleep too.  

Sleeping that night is hard. At first, I am terrified. For what reason, I am not sure. I’m not scared of going back into a coma, so I do not know what else it could be. After a while of staring up at the ceiling, I run my finger up and down the scar on my forearm. It makes me feel nauseous, but I can’t stop. Just for a split second, I feel like my finger is the knife, and I take my hand away.  

When I do fall asleep, I have a nightmare that makes me wake up sweating and screaming. Eric dying all over again is worse the second time around, especially when it seems so real. As I lay there breathing heavy while my nurses try to calm me down, I suddenly hear the voice of the older woman next to me, the one getting the heart surgery, whispering to her nurse.  

“That little girl was tortured by her boyfriend; I heard the nurses talking about it,” she whispers rather loudly. Something in me pummels to the ground. “No wonder she’s having nightmares, the poor thing.”  

My two nurses quickly give me some medication to help me sleep without any more interruption. I sleep all the way until noon the next day.  

Dr. Fitz comes in a while after I wake up and have had some food, asks me questions on how I am feeling, then tells me what I will be doing today.  

“We’re going to see if you can sit up and possibly get out of bed, then if that goes smoothly, we’ll try to get you in for some additional brain scans to double check on things,” he says. “We’re also going to give you out of the ICU to a more comfortable room and look at the types of medication you’ll be taking.”  

My father looks like he is holding on to every word Dr. Fitz is saying, but I can barely hear him.  

“What do you say, Christi? Are you ready to get up?” 

I want to tell him I would prefer to get up to slap that stupid grin off his face, but instead I bite my tongue and jerk my head yes.  

Two nurses come stand on either side of my bed and ready themselves like I am about to blow up. I look around at everyone staring at me and almost roll my eyes.  

“If anything starts to hurt, just stop. Don’t feel the need to accomplish anything today. You’re coming back from a big setback.  

I huff and grit my teeth in determination. I do not need him telling me how I was in a coma for the hundredth time. Every eye is on me as I trip the edge of the bed and slowly hoist myself upwards, so my head is no longer resting on the raised bed. My entire brain starts to pound, screaming at me to stop. I close my eyes when I start to see spots and grips the handrails tighter.  

“Are you ok?”  

I take a deep breath and slowly open my eyes. The pound subsides slightly, but it still feels like my brain is rattling inside my skull. Dr. Fitz, the nurses, and my father all stare at me, and I take another breath.  

“Yeah.”  

“Excellent job, Christi,” Dr. Fitz smiles widely.  

I stare ahead trying not to focus on the pounding.  

“How are you feeling?”  

“My head hurts a little, but it’s not that bad.”  

“Scale of one to ten?”  

“Five?” More like a nine.  

“Why don’t you sit up for a little,” he suggests and writes something else on his clipboard.  

He starts to do similar tests he did on me when I first woke up, like checking my pupils and asking me random questions. The longer I sit up the less my head continues to pound, and I’m able to concentrate better on the things Dr. Fitz is asking me. It feels strange going through all these procedures. To me, just yesterday I was a normal girl that was able to sit up and walk on her own. Now, it’s hard to focus on something as simple as speech. If Eric saw me now, I am sure he would laugh at how stupid this all is.  

“Alright, do you think you’re ready to try and stand?” Dr. Fitz asks after jotting down one more thing, then looks up at me.  

I swallow and nod timidly. I’m not going to lie, I’m scared. Not being able to walk terrifies me. And as strange as it sounds, something tells me this part is not going to go as well as sitting up.  

“Remember, if something doesn’t feel right, just stop.”  

I take a deep breath and push the covers off. My legs feel heavy as I slowly drag them towards the edge of the bed and tug myself forward. I can barely feel my own limbs when I cautiously swing them over the edge of the bed. The cool air stings my skin, and I almost tug myself back into the bed for the pure fact that this room is freezing. My bare feet touch the ground, and I let out a sigh. It feels good to be able to feel something again. Something real. The nurses surround me and brace themselves to catch me if I fall.  

“Take my hand, sweetie,” one of them says, and I do not look up when I grip her hand tightly and push myself up.  

I do not see spots like I did last time, but my legs turn to liquid and crumple underneath me, and I fall backwards onto the bed with a tumble. Another nurse grabs a hold of me so I don’t go sliding to the ground, then helps me sit back down. I stare down at myself feeling completely mortified. I can’t walk.  

“Completely normal,” Dr. Fitz assures me. “It may take some time, but we’ll be able to teach you how to walk again.”  

I don’t say anything and stare downwards. I know it shouldn’t upset me so much, but it does. That is another thing that has fallen apart. He starts to talk about how I will need to be able to have a good handle on things before leaving the hospital, and my heart sinks even more. The last thing I want to do is spend more time in this stupid place. I look up at my father who is rubbing his chin thoughtfully and listening to Dr. Fitz. I sigh and rub my forehead. This is going to be a long couple of weeks.  

After Dr. Fitz is done talking, the nurses help me into one of the wheelchairs and push me out of the ICU and to another wing of the hospital where I will be staying for a while. It feels good to be out of that stuffy, depressing room. Even though I haven’t been conscious in there for very long, it feels like I’ve been stuck in there the whole two weeks. But with the way things are going, I think I might be stuck in this room for that same amount of time.  

More than anything, I want to go back to my dead dream.  

As nice as my private room in the recovery wing is, it’s torture in the hospital. As the days drag on, I start to recover, but it is a battle every day to do simple things. I get tired a lot, probably because it requires so much effort to get brain to focus on whatever it is I’m doing. The activities Dr. Fitz has me doing like reading, writing, and even coloring drain me of all my energy in about ten minutes. The meals the nurses are forcing me to eat make me feel sick, and the things I have to do in rehab for walking sometimes make me pass out from exhaustion.

When I start to learn to how to walk again, it makes me feel like a baby. I can’t even stand up. It it’s probably the worst part of all my injuries. Without my legs, I can’t do anything on my own. I can’t get dressed, I can’t use the bathroom without help, and worst of all, I can’t find a second to myself. That is all I want. To find some time to myself so I can think in peace.  

On top of all that, I have to handle the recovery from my broken ribs. It still hurts to take deep breaths, and even more so when I move around. There is a whole new set of pain medications and restrictions I have to follow for that, which does not improve my mood one bit.  

My father does not stay with me as much since he has to go back to work at some point, but someone is here with me at all times. My family spends a lot of time visiting me, but sometimes it’s just me and the nurse Nina who is in charge of me.

My grandparents visit me a lot with something new to do each time they’re here. One day it is cards, the next it’s a new book they picked up. Aunt Tessa and Uncle Rob visit a lot too, and they even sometimes bring my cousins. They’re good keeping me entertained. Aunt Jenna and Uncle Tyler only come once since they’re always busy traveling, but it is nice to see them when they visit. Kalene also comes every day during her free period. Out of everyone here, she is the best at distracting me from what’s going on in my busy head.  

I haven’t touched my phone in weeks, so I have no idea what has been going on since Eric died. I’m always thinking about what other people are saying at school, or how I probably missed his funeral, or what his parents are feeling right now. I wonder if they know what he did to me, but I also wonder if they blame me for what happened.  

The longer I spend in the hospital, the more I start to realize how much I’ve changed. Maybe it’s easier for other people to see, and maybe that’s why everyone treats me like a dying puppy. Before my accident, I never really talked a lot, but now I don’t talk at all. I don’t like to participate in conversations. It was never really my thing in the first place, but now I can’t even listen. Something tells me it is not just because of my brain injury. I know that could be perfectly logical explanation as to why I have been acting so different, but I don’t think that it’s the entire reason. I haven’t mentioned this to anyone, of course. The last thing I want right now is someone diagnosing me with something just to add another thing on the list.  

But my lack of speech is not the only thing that has changed. I have started having nightmares every night, and it has been the same thing ever time. I am no longer able to have the pill the nurses gave me that first night because of the other medication I am taking, so every night I wake up screaming at least two if not three times. Someone is always there to calm me down, but it is never anyone I know. Whenever I see that it is my nurse Nina and not my father, my insides stab with pain.  

I feel even more alone than I did before Eric died. I know it should be better with all these people visiting me every day, but I do not feel that safety and comfort I know I am supposed to. I wish I could let out all of this desperate loneliness and anger in me some way, but I do not want to talk to anyone, and my brain is too tired to do anything else I am surprised no one has asked me if I want to talk about what happened, but I know everyone I have seen and talked to are dying to know. I can tell by the way they are looking at me. Dr. Fitz, my father, and Kalene, then the entire rest of my family, and even Nina. I do not feel like saying anything to any of them. Where were these people when I needed them in the first place? Suffering from a divorce, having fun at Roanin Academy, and doing God knows what else.  

Wheeling down the hallway to the room where I do rehab for walking is the worst part of my day. I always pass this one hallway that has a huge window looking outside. It seems to taunt me every time I pass. I’m dying to get outside and finally get some fresh air, but another part of me wants to stay hidden forever somewhere where I can hide from the world. Where I never have to face real life, and worst of all, the truth of what my life is now. Eric used to say he wanted to travel the world, and I used to think that was cool, but now I don’t understand it. I want nothing more than to hide from the world right now. Whenever I pass the window and think of Eric’s dream, I feel an ache in my heart.  

“You’ll probably be able to leave and go out somewhere soon,” Nina tells me one day as she wheels me past the window. “You can go home, to the park, anywhere Dr. Fitz approves.”  

I don’t say anything as I watch the world continue to move along from behind the glass. I don’t know how I feel about going home, and I certainly do not want to go to the park. There’s nowhere that sounds appealing, really. Dr. Fitz does offer to let me leave for a little the next time I see him, but not for the reason I thought.  

“Counseling isn’t offered here, but I do have some great recommendations that I think could help you significantly—”  

“Counseling?” I ask from my bed and look to my father in alarm. He’s avoiding all eye contact.  

“Yes. After what you went through, I think it would be a wise decision to seek professional help so they can properly evaluate you.”  

Anger comes flooding in me quickly.  

“You have no idea what I went through,” I snap.  

“Christi,” my father scolds me.  

“That’s why I’d like you to get some professional help,” Dr. Fitz replies calmly, completely ignoring the fact that I’m being rude.  

“Professional help?” I scream as I grip the edge of my bed, and anger boils in me like hot water. “Don’t talk to me like that!”  

“Christina Grace Rogers!” my father yells, and I let out an extremely agitated huff and cross my arms tightly across my chest.  

“How about I give you guys some time to talk about this,” Dr. Fitz decides, then stands to leave. “I’ll come back in a few minutes.”  

My father turns to me looking annoyed when the door closes, and it’s just the two of us.  

“Christi, this topic is not up for discussion. You’re going to see that counselor.”  

“That’s not your decision to make,” I snarl.  

He glares angerly and stares me down sternly.  

“This is going to help with your wellbeing. Do you want things to get better or not?”  

“Since when do you care about my wellbeing?” I yell furiously. Raising my voice makes my head hurt and my ribs shoot with pain, but I am too angry to care. He does not get a say in the decisions I make anymore.  

I watch his face change into something conflicted, like he’s trying to decide if he should be angry at me or guilty that we are even having this conversation.  

“You haven’t cared about my wellbeing since Mom left and Kalene went to the Academy!” I scream, making my throat scratch. I haven’t been this angry in a long time. Suddenly, I feel the urge to get everything off my chest. “I know you were hurting or whatever, but I was hurting too! You worked an unnecessary twelve plus hours a day and left me by myself!”  

“Christi,” he starts, but I am done with his excuses.  

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!” I roar, and his eyes widen in alarm. “I WAS GETTING ABUSED, DAD! I WAS EMOTIONALLY AND PHYSICALLY ABUSED THAT ENTIRE YEAR BY MY OWN BOYFRIEND! AND YOU JUST FORGOT ABOUT ME!”  

I watch tears fill his eyes and slip down his face into his beard. I don’t care.  

“I COULD HAVE DIED! YOU KNOW THAT SCAR ON MY ARM? THAT WAS A WOUND HE REOPENED AFTER HE KIDNAPPED ME FROM MY OWN SCHOOL AND NEARLY BEAT ME TO DEATH! I KNOW EVERYONE’S BEEN DYING TO HEAR WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO ME, SO THERE YOU HAVE IT!”  

“No,” he croaks. I’ve never seen my father cry like this. His entire face is sagged and red, tears pour out of his eyes, and he looks like he would do anything to fix things for me. But it is too late. “Christi, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”  

“IT’S TOO LATE!” I scream as loud as I can, not caring if other people outside can hear me. “YOU FAILED. THERE’S NO FIXING ME FROM THIS. NOTHING IS EVER GOING TO BE THE SAME, DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?”  

If I had the ability to walk, I would be storming out of this room right now. But since I am stuck in the goddamn wheelchair, I fall backwards, cross my arms, and fix my hard graze on the ground.  

My father is now weeping. He has never broken down like this before. Crying loudly into his hands, entire body shaking like he is trying to hold himself back from further sobbing. Not one ounce of me feels regretful.  

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was crazy—woah, what the—Dad, why are you crying?”  

Kalene is the last person I want to see right now. She suddenly stops walking when my flaming eyes land on her. I could go on for hours screaming at her too, but I already feel like I am about to pass out from exhaustion. She glances between my angry face and our father breaking down in the corner, and her face suddenly deflates.  

“Dad?” she says quietly as she walks over to him.  

“My—fault,” he wails into his hands. “All—my—fault.”  

Kalene suddenly looks at me, and a small part of me twinges with regret for yelling at our father like that.  

“What did you say to him?”  

For the first time since I woke up, her voice sounds stern and demanding. Her expression is hard, and she does not look at all sorry for me. She looks just as angry as me.  

“I told him the truth.”  

“All—my—fault,” my father cries louder than ever. “My—fault.”  

“Eric?” Kalene whispers. I knew she was suspecting it, but something in her face breaks when he says the words. “It’s not your fault, Dad.”  

I glare down at the ground.  

“Then who’s fault was it?” I grumble to the ground. 

“Look at me right now, Christi Rodgers.”  

I’ve never seen my sister so angry, and I have never seen her so angry at me. Her stern gaze makes me cripple and fear what she is about to say to me.  

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that again, do you understand me?”  

“You’re not in charge of me,” I snap. “Last time I checked, you’re not my mother.”  

“Well we don’t have one of those, do we?” Kalene yells, and I’m suddenly silenced. She’s never spoken about anything related to our mother ever since she left. “Somebody’s got to put you in your place.”  

“You don’t even know what I said to him!” I scream back just as loudly as my sister.  

“I KNOW ENOUGH,” she roars, her eyes bulging out of her head as she yells furiously. “OPEN YOUR EYES, CHRISTI! LOOK AT ALL OUR DAD HAS DONE FOR YOU. WHAT THE HELL MADE YOU THINK HE WANTED THIS? WHAT MADE YOU THINK ANY OF US WANTED THIS?”  

I don’t say anything. My sister has suddenly silenced me with her deadly glare while our father continues to weep in the corner.  

“I’m sorry you went through this, Christi,” she says with an ice to her voice I have never heard before. “But you cannot take your anger out on people, especially not our father, who’s done everything for us.”  

I don’t say anything. I’m afraid that if I opened my mouth and said something, it would only get me in more trouble with her. I do have a lot of choice words I want to say to my sister, all of them blaming her too for what I went though. But as she kneels down next to my father and tries to calm him down, I know that I can’t say anything now. I know this is a battle I’ve lost. I am going to see the counselor.  

~0o0~ 

Leaving the hospital feels forbidden, even if it only is for a few hours. Now that it is time to visit the real world again, I do not think I want to go as much as I did when I passed by that window. Especially if it is to do something as dreadful as seeing a counselor. After my screaming match with my father and then Kalene, I am officially being dragged to this office.  

I am wheeled out into the sunlight the next afternoon, feeling a little more refreshed but also very agitated. Kalene is still clearly furious with me, and she made that very clear to me when she called to wish me good luck with my appointment. I am not planning to apologize to her any time soon.  

“We’ll talk about it later,” is all she said when I told her our father was no longer upset with me, so she should not be either.  

My father was still crying when he left with Kalene yesterday afternoon. Small parts of me started to feel bad for being so rude to him, but I am still not at all regretful that I finally got those words off my chest.  

“Enjoy your time out,” Nina tells me as she wheels me outside, then leaves me and my father for the long, awkward car ride.  

I do not really know what to say to him now. What I told him yesterday should give him clear idea of what has been going through my head recently, but I do not think he wants to know the full story anymore. We both know it is going to have to come someday though. I know what I said made him feel terrible, and I do not think he can handle any more right now.  

For as quiet as I have been since I woke up, I sure have a lot on my mind. Anger, confusion, sadness, and so many questions. I cannot be like anything that he is feeling though. I know that because the entire ride, he does not even look at me.  

The building my father and I pull up to is large and glass. It makes me bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I really do not like the look of this. The whole building looks like some sort of laboratory, a place where they are going to lock me up and run tests on me like the ones at the hospital.  

“That was way too creepy for me,” I say to Eric as we walk out of the bustling movie theater. “And as much as I loved that Sarah character, it was obvious James was a psychopath from the beginning. He was completely crazy.” 
“Maybe Sarah was the crazy one,” Eric shrugs and kicks a rock on the pavement. “James didn’t always seem like a psychopath. He cared for Sarah at some point. Maybe she should be the one locked up in the insane asylum.”  

I frown at the ground.  

“That’s one way to think about it.”  

“There’s a lot we don’t know about the world, Christi,” he says, and I look up at his dark face. The streetlights make his pale skin and dark hair flash. “Humans think they know everything, but do we?”  

I do not say anything, but it is clear he can sense my confusion and sudden unease.  

“Look, all I’m saying is humans point out all of these flaws with society and the world we’re living in or whatever, like how being a psychopath is terrible. Everyone is so busy pointing out flaws in other people, but I think we need to stop with that and figure ourselves out first. If we can’t even figure out ourselves, how are we going to figure out other people? Being selfless is a good quality, but sometimes being selfish is even more important.”  

“So, you’re saying we shouldn’t try to help other people?”  

“Not necessarily,” he shrugs. “I’m just saying you have to be stable if you want to help someone. I mean, look at that first doctor who tried to help James. She was going through a divorce and was clearly not ready to take on a case with a guy like James. Maybe if she was in a better place and was at least mentally stable, she would have been able to see clearer.”  

“Just promise me you won’t go all crazy on me, or else I’ll have nightmares of insane asylums from that movie,” I joke, trying to turn the conversation away from being so deep.  

“I promise, Christi.”  

I am immediately hit with the smell of medicine when my father wheels me inside, and my nose scrunches at the now familiar smell. The inside of the building reminds me of the hospital. Every piece of furniture is a dull color like gray or white, and there is something about this place that just feels depressing. A large check-in counter is probably the most interesting it gets. There are about five receptionists, two of which are answering calls, a large map with all the floors displayed behind them, and an elevator as well as a staircase on the other side.  

“I can help you folks over here,” one of the receptionists calls out, and my father and I turn to her. “Name?”  

“Christina Rodgers,” my father answers for me as I absentmindedly glance around the room some more. This place really does look somewhere for insane people.  

“What’s your date of birth, Christina?”  

I flinch at the sound of my full name and turn back to her. It takes me a while to come up with an answer to such a simple question. Dr. Fitz was right when he said the coma was going to change some things.  

“October fifth, 2001,” I say finally, and she turns back to type something on her computer.  

“Go ahead up to the third floor, and they’ll get you settled up there,” she instructs. “Have a nice day.”  

My father thanks her, then wheels me over to the elevator.  

The third floor is like the first with the same white and gray furniture and boring walls. There is another counter with a different receptionist like the ones on the first floor and a small waiting room off to the side. After checking in again, my father and I find a spot to wait. I bite the inside of my cheek again and look around. No one is paying attention to anyone or anything else around them except themselves. The people here are all different, from a little girl bouncing her knee anxiously to an old man who keeps muttering to himself. It relieves me a little when I see some people that look normal. One man even smiles at me. I gulp and look back down at my hands.  

My father fills out the paperwork he was given, then comes back to sit next to me again. I am surprised when he takes my hand gently and gives it a small squeeze, then looks back up at me with a tight smile. It suddenly does not matter if I am still angry at him or not, because I now realize he is just as scared as I am.  

About fifteen minutes later, a girl with black hair comes out into the waiting room, and everyone looks up when she glances down at her clipboard.  

“Christina Rodgers.”  

All heads look back down, and I timidly push myself forward. My father stands up to follow me and pushes me in my wheelchair after the woman and down the hallway. The hall soon leads into another, this one with doors lining both walls.  

I feel my heart beat faster the farther we go. Black-haired lady stops when we reach the end of the hallway and knocks lightly on one of the doors.  

“Come in,” a voice calls on the other side, and the door opens so my father can push me inside.  

The office looks nothing like the rest of the building and nothing like I pictured. The walls are a pale green, and the carpet is a soft gray, and there is a small window lighting up most of the room. A small, plush loveseat neatly decorated with two small pillows is on the right wall, and a matching chair is directly across from it separated by a glass coffee table. The office does not smell like the rest of the building. Instead of medicine, it fills my nostrils with a scent that reminds me of lemongrass.  

A young woman with blonde hair stands in one of the corners rummaging through a small filing cabinet, dressed casually in jeans and a blouse. She looks even younger when she turns around and gives me a kind smile. The panic inside my stomach lessens the slightest bit, and I loosen the grip on my hands.  

“You must be Christina,” she says, her voice calm and kind. “Thanks, Julia,” she adds to the lady with black hair behind me, then beckons for me to come in more.  

The door closes, and she comes to stick her hand out in greeting.  

“I’m Dr. Charm,” she says politely and smiles again.  

“Christi,” I reply, then clear my throat.  

“Nice to meet you, Christi,” she says then goes to introduce herself to my father.  

I glance around her office some more. It does not really look like an insane asylum. If anything, it reminds me of an office you would find in an elementary school.  

“Make yourselves at home,” Dr. Charm chirps happily as she plops down in her chair.  

My father takes a seat on the couch, and I park my wheelchair next to him feeling very stiff. I gulp and pull the sleeve that is hiding my scar on my forearm like more of myself I can hide the more of my accident I can hide too. I haven’t realized it, but I’ve become conscious about that scar. It just reminds me a little bit more that this isn’t fake.  

“So,” she starts and leans back into her chair. “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do today.”  

I gulp nervously.  

“I’d love to talk to both of you for a little just to get to know you both,” she says calmly, “then I’d like to talk to Christi for a little to see what we should to next. I also have some paperwork for you, Dr. Rodgers.”  

My father nods stiffly from his seat. Everything he is doing right now is making me nervous.  

Dr. Charm talks most of the time I have with her and my father. It is nice to finally listen to someone else talking about things that have nothing to do with me. No one is asking me about my accident for the first time since I woke up, and I do not feel like Dr. Charm is looking at me like a dying puppy. I like to listen to her instead of talking about me. She tells me and my father about her education, and then about her husband and her one-year-old daughter Catherine. She talks to my father about his job then finally asks me about myself. I don’t really know what to tell her. I don’t have hobbies. I don’t like school. I don’t have any friends.  

“I have a sister,” I say finally because I don’t know what else to say.  

“Kalene Rodgers, correct?” she confirms.  

I nod and wait for her to say something about how great my sister is, but all she does is smile and nod for me to continue.  

“That’s really it.”  

I’m trying to ignore the look my father is giving me. Dr. Charm glances to him so briefly I barely notice it, but when she looks back to me, I know she understands.  

“Dr. Rodgers, would you mind filling out some paperwork for me while I talk to Christi?”  

“Of course,” he says and leaves the room to find Julia and fill out the paperwork.  

I feel awkward when my father leaves and the door closes behind him. Now I’m a medical patient again.  

“I usually start conversations, but I like to ask my patients if there’s anything they’d like to talk about first,” Dr. Charm says as I fiddle with my necklace. “So, Christi, is there anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind?”  

I look up at her. I don’t feel afraid of Dr. Charm like I do with everyone else. All of a sudden, I feel like maybe one day, I can finally tell her everything. The entire story. But right now, I don’t think I am ready for that.  

“Not yet,” I say finally, and she nods. I like how she hangs on to every word I am saying. It convinces me that she really is here to help me.  

“So, you live with your father and your sister?” she starts again.  

“Not really my sister anymore,” I say and start to fiddle with my rose necklace. “She spends a lot of her time at school, or on tour, or doing interviews,” my voice trails off.  

“When did Kalene join the Academy? Last year, correct?”  

“Yeah.”  

“How did you feel when she left?”  

I scowl down at my lap.  

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I was really happy for her. She’s always wanted to go there ever since we were kids.”  

“You’re really close with your sister,” she says more like a statement than a question.  

Despite our recent arguing, the thought of Kalene still makes me smile.  

“I am.”  

Dr. Charm grins softly and turns her head slightly.  

“I like to hear it when siblings get along. Your relationship with your sibling is one of the most important you’ll ever have.”  

I nod slightly.  

“Did Kalene being a student at the Academy ever overwhelm you in anyway?”  

I pause. I never really thought about that. Having a famous sister is something I have never really stopped to process or take in. I do not see that side of her a lot, if ever. I only see the Kalene she was before she left. There are definitely parts of her that have changed since she joined and parts that I have not gotten to know yet, but minus that, I know my sister pretty well.  

“I don’t think about it that much,” I say honestly. “She doesn’t want me to get caught up in all that. I appreciate it.”  

“She sounds like a great sister.”  

“She’s really great.”  

Dr. Charm nods thoughtfully, then sits up abruptly.  

“Can I ask you a more personal question now?”  

My stomach immediately lurches. It is time for the part I have been dreading ever since Dr. Fitz told me about this appointment.  

She taps her finger on the edge of her chair, then looks back to me when she decides what to say next.  

“Before I say anything, I just want to tell you I’m sorry for your loss. Dr. Fitz told me that Eric was your boyfriend before he passed.”  

Tears fight there way from the back of my eyes after hearing those words come from her. Not only because it is another stab at my insides that this is all real, but because I just realized something.  

“No one’s told me that,” I say quietly. “No one’s told me they’re sorry about him . . . dying.”  

“A death is a death, no matter who the person is. I understand that people think Eric did some terrible things to you, Christi,” she says softly, “and I hope that one day you will be willing to tell me your whole story. But for now, it’s ok to be sad.”  

The things I learned about mental health in wellness freshman year of high school is nothing like the real world. What they make it out to be in those textbooks that would be up to date in 2003 do not cover anything. It is something that cannot be captured in a book. You have to experience those kinds of things for yourself. Leaving Dr. Charm’s office with the diagnosis of major depression, anxiety, and the possibility of developing PTSD over those next few weeks make me sound like a case in a textbook from school. Yet somehow, it all fits together. And as much as I do not want to admit it, I know deep down that nothing about that is wrong. The questions on that test she gave me made me realize some things. I had been showing all these symptoms long before Eric died.  

I’m prescribed a new medication Dr. Charm tells me is an antidepressant, and she also tells me how often to take them. She said the antidepressant is meant to help balance the chemicals in my brain and help with my mood a little. Whatever that means.  

“This isn’t going to be an overnight process,” she told me. “It’s also important to know that this medication isn’t going to make you feel all happy and go lucky, but it will make some things more manageable.”  

The only downside of that is now I am really not able to take the medication for my nightmares anymore. When I mentioned this, she gave me some breathing techniques and strategies for when I wake up screaming and sweating.  

“Nightmares are expected after trauma,” she said. “They may only last for a few weeks, or possibly months or even years. But I think that this counseling will really help with that. Another thing I recommend to my patients is writing down your dreams, good or bad.”  

Even though I will never admit it to Dr. Fitz, I think going to see Dr. Charm will help me. She gives me a new sense of hope, like things could possibly get better one day. Even though this is only my first meeting with her, my anger at my father and sister has faded significantly. I was just upset when I yelled at them yesterday, and I should not have taken my anger out on them like that. I know my father will accept my apology when I later find the time to talk to him, but I am not so sure about Kalene. I have never seen her so angry at me before.  

I am supposed to visit Dr. Charm twice a week for now, but she said that her door is always open. I also remember her saying something about group therapy, but I put an end to that right away.  

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” she reasoned when I spit out an immediate no. “Maybe after a couple of weeks with me, you’ll feel more comfortable talking to people who have been through similar experiences.”  

“How can you be so certain that it would even work?” I asked. The only vision I have of group therapy is a bunch of grumpy teenagers who do not want to be there listening to some old guy singing Christian songs.  

“It works for a lot of people,” she responded. “And if you absolutely hate it and feel uncomfortable, I won’t make you go back. But let’s wait a little before bringing this up again.  

“Again?”  

“Yes, again,” she smiles. “Like I said before, things aren’t going to fix themselves, and certainly not in one day.”  

I surprised myself with how much I talked to her just during our first meeting. I do not even think I have spoken that much to anyone this entire year. I am still not expecting anything big to come from this. Eric damaged me permanently, and no one, not even Dr. Charm, can change my opinion on that.  

When I am finally discharged from the hospital at the end of the week, I am still not able to fully walk. I can stand for a few seconds, but then my legs start to feel heavy and I fall back to the ground. As long as I am out of the hospital, I do not care if I can walk or not. 

I feel a little nervous going home. Having to pass all the things I used to see every day like the McDonalds by my school or the sign to the Academy feels weird. I feel like I just moved here even though this is where I have lived all my life. Although nothing’s changed, everything feels so different. It is even worse that everything I see brings back a memory. The park reminds me of the nights I spent huddled in my car with every bone aching. The high school makes an image of my trashed locker pop in my mind. I know we’re supposed to pass by Eric’s house too, but I have noticed my father has taken a slight detour to avoid it.  

Seeing my house brings a sick feeling to my stomach. I still have that kick in my gut that feels an awful lot like guilt, and it’s nagging at my insides. My father parks the car then helps me into my wheelchair, and I grip the armrests as he takes me inside. Everything is just like I remember it. Dark and quiet. I can vividly remember the nights where I would come home to this same darkness and quiet after seeing Eric, wondering what it would be like to never have to come home to something like this again. Wondering what it would be like to never see anything again.  

“Do you want me to set you up on the couch downstairs or do you want to go up to your room?” my father asks me, and I jump slightly and snap out of my daze.  

“Can you take me upstairs?” 

“Sure,” he says and wheels me over to the stairs to help me up.  

Seeing my room nearly makes me break down. Everything is just like it was when I left it. The thought of never seeing any of this again makes me want to start screaming and crying. I wonder if Eric brought me to his room that night knowing that would be the last thing he’d see.  

My father helps me up onto my bed, and I immediately roll on my side so my back is to him. I wait for him to leave so I can be alone, but then the bed creaks down at me feet and I know he’s sat down.  

“I’m sorry, Christi,” he says quietly. “About everything. You were right the other day. This is my fault.”  

“It’s not your fault,” I croak with my back still to him. “I was being stupid. You had nothing to do with this. It was my problem.”  

“Don’t blame yourself for this.”  

“Who else is there to blame?” I grumble. “I should have just left or got help or something. There were plenty of chances I had to change things, and I didn’t.”  

“Christi —”  

“It’s fine,” I interrupt even though this whole thing is far from fine. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”  

He is quiet for a long moment, and I close my eyes. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“I guess.”  

“How long was he . . . how long was this happening?” 

I cringe at his words. I know he’s been dying to ask me that, and I have been dreading giving him the answer. Confessing this to my father feels like I’m confessing a bad decision, and it makes my insides burn in shame. I feel an urge to be mad at him again, but I cannot bring myself to do it.  

“A little after Mom left and Kalene went to the Academy.” 

He lets out a breath, and I can practically see him rubbing his beard deep in thought. I am sure he was expecting an answer like two or three weeks or a shorter amount of time. 

“Don’t be afraid to come talk to me anymore.”  

“Whatever,” I say lamely, and he lets out another sigh. “Can I be alone now? I’m really tired.”  

“Sure, flower,” he says gently. The bed creaks as he stands and leaves without another word.  

I turn onto my other side, and my eyes flit back to the door the second it shuts. My whole body starts to shake as I try to hold back my sobs. I want to scream after him to come back, even just to sit with me, so I don’t have to be alone anymore. But I do not say anything. Instead, I roll back to my other side, cover my face with a pillow, and let it all out. I scream and cry until I can’t take it anymore, until my throat feels like it’s bleeding, my head feels like someone’s smashing a rock against my skull, my ribs feel like they’re breaking all over again, and my eyes burn from the crying. Because it is all finally hitting me. Eric’s really gone forever. Everything is really gone forever. The last thing I had is gone, and it’s all my fault.  

I heave into the pillow and try to catch my breath. I have no idea how much longer I lay there, my body shaking as I desperately attempt to calm myself down. I am not even sure if it’s worth it to finally pull myself up. I am tired of fighting for something that’s never going to happen.  

I tug the pillow off my face. It is now dark outside. I must have been here for an hour or so. I fold my hands in my lap after finally sitting up, then pull myself to the end of the bed. I stare at my reflection at the mirror hanging on the wall and bite the inside of my cheek. My face is bright red and puffy just like my eyes, and my hair is snarled. I look like a mess.  

My mind starts to race, and I can’t seem to peel my eyes off my reflection. Eric’s voice starts bang through my head. The words he would scream while I had my back pressed against the wall.  

No one will ever love you.  

I do not realize I am crying again until a few hot tears trickle down my face.  

You’re worthless.  

I cover my mouth with my hand and let out a choked cry. My eyes squeeze shut, and I can picture it again. His bloodshot eyes, his cold hands, his angry face.  

You’re never going to be good enough for me.  

I open my eyes again and stare hopelessly at my reflection. What was I thinking? He never loved me to begin with. I was blind the entire time and look where it got me. Look where it got Eric. He is dead all because of me. Because I could not see it when he needed help, and I could not see the signs that something terrible was going to happen to him.  

I throw myself off my bed and onto the ground so I can pull my eyes off the mirror, and when my body hits the ground, I can practically see myself back in his bedroom laying on my side with his dead body next to me. I pull myself up into a sitting position and lean against my bed. I am crying and shaking all over again. It is a never-ending nightmare. It is never going to get better.  

I am sad for myself, more alone than ever, confused beyond explanation, and most of all, I am angry. Angry that I am here crying on my floor, angry that I cannot seem to find a way to even start getting out of this, angry that there is nothing I can do about it, and angry that I’m too weak to even stand on my own. I let out a scream of frustration and grab a firm hold of the edge of my dresser so I can pull myself up on to my knees and grab the first thing I can, which happens to be a small glass sculpture my sister got me for my thirteenth birthday. I use all the strength I have in me to throw it as hard as I can, then watch it smash into a million pieces against the wall then scatter across the carpet. The shards of glass glisten like ice.  

I knock over the stack of books on my shelf, throw my backpack across the room, then reach over and pull my nightstand over so the lamp, box of tissues, and the framed picture of Eric and I all come toppling over. I feel like a tornado destroying my room like this, but that doesn’t even seem to matter right now.  

The last piece of my heart seems to shatter when my eyes land on the picture in the frame. It was from that day Eric took me to the fair. I cry loudly with everything left in me and smash it as hard as I can against the corner of my dresser, then watch glass erupt around me. It takes me back to the day in Eric’s house when he threw his beer bottle at my head. The shards of glass come spilling around me just like they did that day. 

I do not feel anything except the stream of tears coming down my face as I reach for the picture that floated out of the now broken frame. It is all my fault. Every single last part of me believes it, and every part of me wishes more than anything that I could take it all back. Every moment I had with him. Every smile, every kiss, every conversation. Everything. The night I first talked to him, the moment I first realized I loved him. I start tearing up the picture into shreds as more tears fall. Because I am the reason he is dead, and nothing is going to change that. I should have been the one that died.  

I fall to the ground, hopelessly sobbing and clutching the tiny, crumpled photograph to my chest. He is really gone. It doesn’t matter if I flinched or not when the door opens a few minutes later because I am shaking so badly. I cannot seem to get myself to stop. 

“Christi,” I hear the soft voice of my sister whisper, which only makes me cry harder.  

I feel like her voice is just a figment of my imagination until the small remains fall from my arms and I feel her arms wrap around me to pull me close to her. I clutch onto her tightly as I cry. 

“It’s ok,” she coaxes me. “It’s ok.”  

My chest is heaving as I try to calm myself again, with my sister shushing me gently and stroking my hair softly. I feel another pair of arms wrap around me, and I immediately know it’s my father. And no matter how many times I try to come up with an answer I can’t seem to think of an answer of how I am still here.  

“We’re going to fix this, Christi,” my father whispers into my hair. “No matter how long it takes.” 

“Promise,” Kalene adds, giving my shoulder a squeeze.  

And after a night of nightmares and more screaming and crying, everything is cleaned up when it is finally morning.  

~0o0~ 

“You promise you’ll call me every day?” Kalene asks as she loads her suitcase in the back of her car then finally turns to me. “I was going to try to ask for weekends off to come visit, but I don’t know how that’s going to work with interviews and photoshoots and —” 

“I’ll call every day,” I promise before she can get too worked up.  

She suddenly pulls me into a tight hug and wraps her arms so tightly around me I can barely breathe. 

“Make sure you do,” she whispers. “I promise it will get better.” 

She pulls back and I anxiously pick the rubber on my wheelchair.  

“I’m sorry for yelling at you the other day. I already apologized to Dad. I was being stupid.” 

She stares down at me for a moment, then gives me a sad smile.  

“It’s ok,” she tells me. “You were just upset. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled either.”  

She bends down to gives me another long hug. 

“I love you, Christi. Be good for Dad.” 

“I love you too, Kalene.” 

I sigh and frown at the ground as she says one last goodbye to our father. I wish more than anything that she would stay home with me, but I know how much the Academy means to her. I couldn’t take that away from her.  

I look up when I hear her car door open and watch her climb inside. My father comes to stand beside me and wraps an around my shoulder as Kalene pulls out of the driveway. I bite the inside of my cheek and watch her slowly fade away. 

 “Can you take me back upstairs?” I mutter to my father a moment later long after Kalene’s car is gone. “I need a nap.”  

“Sure,” my father replies, then pushes me back into the house.  

I have never been angry or sad when Kalene goes back to the Academy, but something about this time makes my insides burn. She is leaving when I need her most, the only time I really need her.  

I huff in frustration and drag myself over to the window seat and sit down once my father is gone. I feel guilty for being so selfish, but I am starting to wonder if being selfish isn’t such a bad thing right now.  

I sit with all the lights off and gaze out the window. It is still sunny outside, and a few clouds line the sky stretched like pieces of cotton. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug them tightly, resting my head back on the wall behind me. I am not sure how long I sit there just staring out the window. Kalene was always jealous I had room with the window seat. She always used to say that if she had one in her room, she would spend all her time there. We used to spend hours talking on this seat, whether it was a serious talk, a random talk, or talks to distract us from our parents screaming downstairs.  

“You really have a great view from here, Christi,” she used to say. “And this window’s so big, you can still see outside even if you pull down the blinds.”  

I had always rolled my eyes or giggled when she said that because it was annoying that light was always streaming into my room. I guess I can still get bigger curtains, but the light reminds me of her always talking about the blinds.  

There’s a sudden knock on the door downstairs, and I jump in my seat. I peek out the window and frown when I spot a car I do not recognize in the driveway. My head turns back to the door of my room when I hear my father answer the door, and I start to randomly fiddle with my rose necklace. His head pokes in through the doorway of my room a moment later just as I look back over.  

“Someone’s here to see you.”  

I almost laugh out loud. Who would be here to see me?  

“Who?”  

“She says her name is Monica.”  

It takes me a minute to remember who he’s talking about, but then she comes back to me. Black hair with sliver tips, long eyelashes, clear skin. Perfect. My stomach suddenly lurches, and I stare at him in disbelief. 

“Monica?” I repeat, not sure if I heard him correctly. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Weren’t you guys friends back in middle school?”  

I do not say anything.  

“Can I send her up?”  

“No,” I spit immediately. No way in hell am I letting Monica in my room.  

“Why not?” he asks seeming extremely confused. “Don’t you think it would be nice to talk to a friend?” 

“Monica is not my friend.”  

I watch as my father opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again.  

“Just for ten minutes. She looks like she really wants to see you.”  

I swallow thickly. The last time I saw Monica, I slapped her across the face and told her to stay away from me. I do not tell any of that to my father of course. 

“Fine. But can you cover my wheelchair with a blanket or something?” 

He pauses for a moment, but then goes over to throw a blanket over my wheelchair. He glances over at me when he reaches the door again.  

“You can’t hide from this forever.” 

I do not hesitate when I answer, “I can sure as hell try.” 

He sighs then leaves to go get Monica. The minutes where I wait for her drag on terribly. If I am being honest, I am probably more scared to see her than she is to see me. I don’t want her prying into my business again, or even worse, ask about Eric. That is the last thing I want to talk about right now, but knowing her, she is probably dying to know.  

“Hi.”  

My head slowly turns, and I immediately spot her. She looks exactly like she did the last time I saw her, although she looks awkward standing there in my doorway.  

“Hi.”  

Monica steps into my room and looks around. Her eyes pause on my covered-up wheelchair for a moment, but she does not say anything.  

“It looks like it did in middle school,” she says with a weak smile.  

“Yeah.”  

There is an awkward silence, and I slowly start to regret bringing her up here. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. I discreetly pull up the sleeves of my sweatshirt even though they’re already up to my wrists, afraid that she will somehow be able to see the dreadful scar on my arm right through the fabric.  

“I’m really sorry,” she says suddenly. “It must be terrible being in a car accident then . . . then losing Eric.” 

I look at her again. I guess my father was right when he said they told the kids at my school I was in a car accident. I stare at Monica as she plays with a loose thread on her shirt. She seems to believe the story. I hope everyone else does too.  

“Yeah. It sucks.”  

“It must be really hard for you.”  

I do not say anything to that. It’s harder than she realizes. Even if she did know the full story, like how I was never in a car accident, how I watched Eric kill himself, and how he did terrible things to me, she would not understand.  

I watch as she sits stiffly on the edge of my bed.  

“I really do not know what to say if I’m being honest,” she shrugs. “I just felt like I had to come over here. I don’t know. I don’t want to upset you.”  

“It’s fine,” I say. “You can’t upset me any more than I already am.” 

She looks at me sadly.  

“Look, I know you don’t want us to be friends anymore, but if you ever need anything —”  

“I won’t call you,” I finish for her, and she looks at me taken aback. “We were friends in middle school, Monica.” 

“But —”  

“There’s nothing you can do to help me,” I interrupt. “If you really wanted to do something, you would have done it a long time ago.”  

She stares at me blankly. I do not know why or how these words are suddenly spilling out of my mouth, but it feels right.  

“We’re not the same people we were in middle school,” I tell her. “At least I’m not, so I don’t think we can be friends. We’re both going to end up in completely different places in life, and I don’t think you want to be around me now that . . . well I’m not even the same person I was a few weeks ago. I don’t want to get myself wrapped up in whatever it is you do these days, and I don’t think you want to get wrapped up in what just happened to me.”  

Her face seems to change, and she slowly nods her head.  

“Something more happened that day Eric died,” she randomly says, and so much panic builds up inside me it is suddenly impossible to form words.  

She looks at my face, and I get the feeling she knows my answer is yes. While she may not know exactly what happened, she still knows.  

“I think you should go,” I say finally. It is none of her business knowing what happened to him, or me for that matter.  

“Ok,” she says eventually and stands. “I hope things get better for you, Christi. I really do. I’m sorry again.”  

I watch her leave back towards the door, but she quickly glances over her shoulder at me one last time. Just by the look on her face, I know she is going to keep me out of the story. 

“Bye, Monica,” I say quietly.  

“Bye, Christi.”  

When she leaves the house and drives off in her car a few minutes later, I think we both know this is the right thing. I cannot be wrapped up in whatever she has been up to, and she cannot be wrapped up in my life either. I do not feel sad to see her go, and I do not think she is sad to see me go either. Maybe it is because we both get to close that part of our lives down for good. 

“So, I want to talk about your mom today,” Dr. Charm says as I sit in her office for the fourth time since I first met her. “Your dad mentioned to me they got a divorce a year ago, and you haven’t talked about her.”  

Since I started seeing Dr. Charm, we have talked about all sorts of things. I told her more about the rest of my family, and she told me more about herself too. We only really started to talk about Eric the last time I was here. She told me she wants to take small steps rather than have me tell her everything at once.  

“There’s not much to tell,” I say truthfully and pick at the rubber on my wheelchair.  

“What do you mean by that?” Dr. Charm asks and folds her hands in her lap.  

“When she left last year, it didn’t really affect me,” I say with a shrug. “At least not as much as it should have.” 

“If you had to pick one word to describe how you felt, what would it be?” 

I do not say anything for a moment. I never really had time to think about how it made me feel with everything else happening.  

“Relieved,” I say eventually. “I was tired of pretending like I had an actual mother, because she was never part of my life. I was already done with being sad that she didn’t care, so it didn’t really matter to me when she left.” 

Dr. Charm nods thoughtfully.  

“So, your mother was never really a part of your life?”  

“Not really,” I tell her. “She lived with us if that’s what you’re asking. But she was never a part of anyone’s life except her own. She was there, but she wasn’t really.”  

“Do you think that lack of relationship between your mother and father, or even you and your mother affected you now?” she asks.  

Even though love will never be the word I think of when I remember the days my parents were together, I never thought about the lack of that relationship I was missing as a child. Do I not know what love is really supposed to look like because of my childhood? Now that I think about it, what is love? I always thought of it as someone that’s meant to make you a better person. Maybe part of that is true, but not in the way I think. To me, it has always been someone you can tolerate long enough to have kids of your own so they can be the new person you fall in love with. 

“Becoming a victim of a situation where someone you care about takes advantage of you,” Dr. Charm continues, “is usually caused by a variety of things. My guess for you is you never had an example of what a relationship is supposed to look like because you never had an example or advice of what it’s supposed to be.”  

“I knew it was wrong,” I try to explain, but I do not think I can. “I can’t describe it.” 

“I understand,” she says with a small nod. “It’s not necessarily something you can explain. It’s easy to assume you would leave a difficult situation, but when the time comes, it’s a lot harder than you think.” 

Her saying those few words make everything clearer. Finally, someone who understands.  

“But Kalene was able to pick out a good person,” I say randomly thinking of her relationship with Zach. “She doesn’t take sh*t — sorry, crap — from anyone. She could leave if she had to. Why couldn’t I?” 

“You and your sister are very different people, at least from what I’ve heard,” Dr. Charm answers without hesitation. “From what you’ve told me so far, you had a lack of emotional support with your mother gone and Kalene at the Academy, the thought that you could help or change Eric, an attachment to the good times you had with him, or maybe even a fear of him.” 

I just stare at her. Suddenly feeling very exposed, I shrink back into my seat. Is that really how my brain was working while I was with Eric? The more I think about it, the more I agree with Dr. Charm. I guess I did feel abandoned that year things started going downhill, I kept thinking that things would go back to the way they were if I just changed him, and honestly, I was terrified of Eric. I was scared I would lose him, and I was scared he was going to hurt me even more if I told someone.  

“There are good people out there, Christi,” Dr. Charm continues after a moment of silence, “but we have to assume that every man can change just as quickly as Eric did. That doesn’t mean we should never trust again, but we must find that balance where we’re ready to care for ourselves. It’s about watching out for the worst while living our lives freely.” 

 “That sounds complicated.” 

“Life is complicated, Christi,” she says calmly. “Sometimes I don’t even think I’ve figured it all out. But that’s just how things are. Bad things happen to good people, but it’s all about learning how to live and learn at the same time. It’s hard to explain for sure, and even harder to understand. But I truly do believe that one day you will find that acceptance that someone will love you.” 

“I can’t accept that so easily,” I admit and pull off a piece of rubber from my wheelchair. Just saying that out loud makes me feel exposed and even a little ashamed. It sounds like such a cliché thought it makes me feel stupider and even more child-like.  

“But one day you will,” Dr. Charm assures me. “It seems impossible, I know, but I know you can do it one day, Christi.” 

Talking to Dr. Charm gives me hope. Hope that vanishes the second I leave the building because I can no longer hide in the tiny room. I must face the reality that the real world is nothing like she tells me it is. The possibility of peace and happiness that she talks about does not seem as realistic when I wake up screaming and crying every night after four hours of sleep.  

Another thing Dr. Charm and I talked about is how I am going to continue education. She offered the idea of cyber school or hiring a private teacher until I felt comfortable with going back to a real school, but I honestly cannot see myself going back to public school ever again. It is not like I have much school left anyway. Any thoughts of getting a job in the future or going to collage seem out of the question right now. I cannot imagine doing anything else with my life except physical therapy and sessions with Dr. Charm.  

Some things change as time slowly drags on. I see my family a lot more than I did before my accident. Someone is with me all the time, which I’m not sure how I really feel about. Sometimes I just want to be alone, but when I am, I long to get rid of this feeling of isolation that seems to follow me everywhere nowadays. And even though my father is working less hours since I was released from the hospital, he still has to work long days. I spend a lot of time with Grandma Irene instead. She offered to do her charity baking in our kitchen since she has to spend most of her time there anyway. It is usually her that’s stuck babysitting me. I do enjoy her company most of the time. She does most of the talking for me. I mostly just sit back and watch her, but sometimes I will read the book she brings me or write random words on paper.  

I have gone back to that recently since it gives me something to keep my mind from spiraling, and it helps to get everything out. Sometimes I write things that sound like journal entries, other times it’s just random words or phrases that pop into my mind.  

That is mostly what I do while I watch my grandmother bake, but one day, I decided to help Grandma Irene with her baking and found it very calming. I started to help her more frequently, and it is kind of starting to turn into a hobby. When I mentioned this to Dr. Charm, she was elated.  

“This is really great progress, Christi,” she said happily. “I’m glad you found something you enjoy. This can be a really good outlet for you.” 

Yet somehow, I still feel the exact same I did the day I woke up from that coma. It feels like I have not nor will I ever make any type of progress. I am still empty, I am still lonely, I still have absolutely no friends, and I am still getting little to no sleep. Baking is something I do enjoy now, but I could never go anywhere with it.  

The only sliver of positivity coming out of all of this is getting to see Kalene more. The Academy is now letting her come home to visit on Sundays, and sometimes for a few hours on Saturday. Getting to spend more time with her makes me realize how much I have missed her ever since she left. She is always bringing hope into my day, sometimes even more than Dr. Charm. We never do anything extravagant either. Sometimes she will watch me bake because she can’t cook to save her life, or sometimes I will sit upstairs with her while she fiddles around on her piano and works on song lyrics. 

Kalene has been playing piano since she was four, and she is perfect at it. I like to lay on her fuzzy purple circle carpet and listen to her play or sing. It reminds me of when we were younger, back when I used to listen to her play and sing all the time. Recently though, I have liked to pay attention to what she is doing. She will play a few notes or cords and scribble something down in her notebook, then hum or sing softly to whatever she is writing. It is interesting to see how she creates this music that millions of people listen to and love. The music that wins her awards and brings her piles of attention.  

I am lying on my stomach one afternoon with my head propped up on my hands while she works when she suddenly looks to me.  

“I’m in a writer’s block,” she confesses to me. I watch her put her elbow on the piano keys, causing it to make a loud noise, and stick her chin in the palm of her hand. “I have a melody; I just don’t know what lyrics I want.” 

“It sounds really pretty, Kalene. You’ll figure something out,” I encourage, then drag my pencil along the paper I have been drawing swirls on for the past hour. She really has done a great job with the non-lyrical part. She has a creative way of writing, and I am sure it is going to turn out great.  

The melody she came up with kind of reminds me of something you would hear in the summer, which is fitting considering it is the middle of June. But she also added one part in the middle that sounds different from the rest of the song. It is a lot slower and a lot less upbeat. Without even realizing it, I am scribbling words down on the paper around all the swirls. Random phrases that are coming to my mind just like they normally do. I can picture her melody she’s been playing for the past hour and write down words and phrases it makes me think of. Peaceful. Hopeful. Maybe at sometimes, even a little desperate.  

“What are you writing?” Kalene asks randomly, and before I can get the chance to even process what she said, my paper is snatched out from underneath me and is suddenly being scanned over by my sister.  

“Kalene!” I shriek and try to make a lunge for her since I’m still incapable of walking on my own.  

She easily takes a step back and squints down at my writing. My face burns in embarrassment and nervousness. She is going to think I am an absolute psycho for writing all this random crap. I watch completely petrified as she slowly looks up at me curiously then back down at the paper.  

“Christi,” she says quietly, then looks from the me to the paper again, “this is . . . this is really good.” 

I have no idea what that is supposed to mean. Random words I am writing down on paper is good? Good at what? 

“Have you . . . have you written like this before?” 

I do not say anything because I do not know what the right answer is. 

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”  

“You have, haven’t you?” she says as she studies my face. Sometimes I hate how well my sister knows me. “Christi, do you realize what this is?” she asks as she waves the paper with all my swirls and words in front of me. “You basically just wrote an entire song in two minutes.” 

I stare at her blankly. Maybe I should have more of a reaction, but it does not really matter to me. I just write down whatever I am thinking about. I am not trying to write music or anything.  

“I don’t think you realize how impressive this is,” she continues to babble, scanning the paper again. “Do you have any more of these? Have you written before?” 

“That’s not a song, Kalene,” I state firmly. “I was just writing random words. It’s therapeutic to write my thoughts down. It’s not that big of a deal.” 

“Do you have any more of these?” she repeats, ignoring what I just said.  

“Yeah, but they’re not —”  

“Can I see them?” 

I sigh and sit up.  

“Why? They’re kind of private and it’s not even music like you’re suggesting.”  

“Pretty please? I won’t judge, I just want to see because this is really good. Like, Academy-level writing good. And you don’t even play an instrument.” 

That doesn’t sway me either. Maybe it is because it doesn’t seem real. Or maybe I just really do not care. 

“Fine,” I huff just to amuse her. “They’re in a shoebox in my closet.” 

Kalene squeals and springs out of her seat like a leprechaun then takes off running towards my room. I shake my head in disbelief at her excitement. Never once did I think that the insanity I was putting on paper could be considered song lyrics, and never once did I stop to think about what you could call it other than words from a psycho. 

Kalene comes toppling back into the room and spreads the twenty or so slips of paper out in front of the two of us. Looking down at all the different words makes me feel a little emotional. Things have changed a since I started this. The one on the crossword was the very first one and probably the longest. I can still remember writing that like it was yesterday. There is a short one I wrote on a napkin during Kalene’s end of year concert a few months ago, a few I wrote in the hospital, and one written with a crayon because it was the first writing utensil I spotted.  

I watch my sister scan the multiple words in front of us and try to gauge her reaction. It is hard considering she’s good at putting on a mask. Occasionally she will pick up one of them and read it, then set it back down and continue her scanning. I cannot tell if she thinks it’s crazy, if she’s really understanding what the messages mean, or if she knows that some of them were cries for help.  

“Do you want to learn to play piano?” she asks randomly and sets down the paper she was holding. I raise my eyebrows accusingly at her.  

“Kalene, if you think you’re going to turn me into some kind of songwriter,” I start with a sigh, but she interrupts me.  

“Who said I was going to turn you into a songwriter? I just thought you’d be interested. You’re creative, Christi. You need an outlet. I think you’d really enjoy piano.” 

I do not say anything as I fiddle with the edge of one of the many pieces of paper.  

“Pretty please? It’ll be fun,” she begs, and I look back up at her.  

“Ok, ok, fine. But don’t think this is going to be some big —” 

“Relax, little sister. It’s just a piano. It’s not going to bite.” 

I roll my eyes, and she holds out her hand to help me up over to her piano. I do not know how long the two of us sit at her piano bench, but by the time my father calls us down for dinner, I am reading treble clef and playing a few basic songs. I hate to admit it, but Kalene was right; playing an instrument is very calming. It takes my mind off the things happening in my life for the first time in a while. It feels refreshing to put my energy into something other than my sadness.  

Playing piano on the weekends turns into our new thing. It is another reminder of how much I have missed my sister. We used to have things we did together before she left, like movie nights every Saturday, Sunday walks early before the sun was even up, and coloring in the huge adult coloring books my father would get us. We lost all of that when she joined the Academy. She became too busy, and I stopped trying to make things work. But having that relationship with her again makes a little part of my life fall back into place.  

“Things work out without us even noticing them,” Dr. Charm told me one afternoon at one of our sessions after I mentioned some of this to her. “I’m really happy for you, Christi. That’s one thing to check off the list.” 

And while I am happy that I am getting my sister back, sometimes I wonder when I am going to lose her again. She cannot be doing this forever; I know that one day she is going to have to go to the Academy full time when she thinks I am getting better. From the looks of things, that is going to take longer than she thinks.  

Some nights are worse than others. When I am lucky, all I get is a nightmare and then I am able to fall back asleep. Even if it is only a solid four hours of sleep I am getting, that is better than the nights where I wake up more than three times in the same hour. My heart aches so badly it physically hurts. I long for Eric to come back, or even just for someone to be here with me. That pain is by far the worst of it all. Sometimes when I cannot stand it, I will go to the spot in the park I used to hide after visiting Eric.  

I have learned that being alone is the most dangerous for me. It is when I am left alone to let my mind spiral that things go downhill quickly. I go a million different places. That is one of the only things I do not talk to Dr. Charm about. Whenever I try to think of some way to bring it up, I cannot get myself to form the right words to explain that sometimes I feel like I am going out of my mind. I like to keep some things to myself, and that is one of them.  

No matter how many times people tell me, I am still not convinced things are going to change one day. I know things could be worse; I could be dead. But I am ashamed to admit that sometimes I still do think maybe that would be the better option. I have never said that to Dr. Charm either, but sometimes I think she can read my mind.  

“You felt trapped,” I remember her finishing my sentence one afternoon when we were talking about Eric. We have been working bit by bit on my history, and today I was telling about the first time he hit me. “He was supposed to love you,” she said with a sad smile. “Something like that doesn’t feel like love, does it?” 

I shook my head and sunk back into the couch.  

“But that’s what I thought it was supposed to feel like. Looking back now that sounds so stupid.” 

“When people ask you those questions like, ‘If so and so pressured you into trying drugs, what would you say?’ I always laugh because it’s not a yes or no answer like they expect it to be. Sure, when you first think about it, the answer is an immediate no. Why would you try something that could kill you? But it’s not that easy. When it really comes down to it, you don’t know what you’re going to say until you’re in a situation like that. Stupid choices never seem stupid in the moment or else we would all be perfect humans.”  

 I never thought of it like that. 

“Things hurt, Christi,” Dr. Charm likes to tell me. “And sometimes, it’s not our fault.” 

“I called the tutor Dr. Charm suggested this morning,” my father tells me as we sit at breakfast one morning during the first week of July. “He seemed nice.”  

“Hmm,” I sniff unapprovingly.  

“Would you consider meeting him?”  

“I guess.”  

“Christi, it’s either this or public school,” my father sighs. “Which would you rather do? You have to finish school.”  

“I said I’d meet him,” I grumble.  

“Great. I’ll call again and set something up.”  

I take my empty plate and stand to walk over to the dishwasher. Biting my lip, I try to push through the weak, achy feeling shooting through my legs. I’ve recently been able to walk on my own without the help of crutches or a wheelchair, but I can never do it for long. As soon as I make it up to my room, I’m probably going to have to sit down for an hour.  

When I finally get to my bedroom, I collapse down on my bed and rub my eyes tiredly. I’m exhausted from the lack of sleep I’ve been getting, but it’s worth it the less I have to stay in the world of nightmares.  

Still not a day has passed where I haven’t woken up screaming or crying. Sometime after I got home from the hospital, I’ve given myself a strict sleep schedule. I try to go to bed around eleven even though I can never fall asleep until at least one or two in the morning, then set an alarm on my phone for six a.m. to wake myself up from the nightmare. If I’m lucky, the long nights are shortened.  

I let out a long sigh and stare down at the notebook I’ve been writing in since I woke up this morning. I now have ten pages full of words that I started writing as soon as I was awake. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. By the time the day is over, I’ll probably have half the pages filled. Maybe once I’m finished, I’ll sort through it and add some phrases to the shoebox that is still hidden in my closet. The ones that I don’t want Kalene snooping through will be hidden somewhere she can’t find them.  

I know my sister has been secretly going through the phrases in my shoebox ever since she read the ones I showed her then taught me to play piano. It’s clear that she’s been picking through them like I have a million dollars hidden in there. When I caught her one day, she claimed she was looking for one of my shirts to borrow. Even though she knows how to hide her emotions extremely well, my sister is a terrible liar.  

I’m not sure if she’s doing it to check up on me or if she’s trying to piece it together to make some kind of song. Ever since she compared the way I write to songwriting; she’s had her mind set that I’m out to be some hiddenly talented singer and songwriter like she is. No matter how many times I tell her I only do it because it makes me feel better, she doesn’t listen. I’ve already lost track of how many times I told her to drop the whole thing. 

But that doesn’t stop her from trying. Whenever she comes home on Sundays and sometimes for a few hours on Saturday to visit me, she teaches me more piano and sings along while I play. I’ve been making steady progress on the piano in her room since I first starting learning weeks ago, and it’s actually something I find myself doing when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep. It’s calming.  

“I called the tutor again.” I jump and nearly fall off my bed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” my father says as he steps inside my room.  

“It’s fine,” I mumble and quickly close my notebook.  

“He’s going to stop by tomorrow to say hello,” he continues. “I also, um, I also got a call from the police station a few minutes ago.”  

“The police station?” I repeat feeling wildly confused.  

“Yeah,” he says and starts to rub his beard. “They want to ask you a few questions about Eric.”  

I stare at him. “I don’t want to talk about that.”  

“You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to,” my father adds hesitantly. “They’re not opening an investigation or anything. I think they just want to do it for his parents’ sake, and to hear from another person that was there. They need evidence that . . . that . . .”  

“That he wanted to kill himself,” I finish without a tone of emotion in my voice.  

“. . .Yes.”  

“Fine. When are they coming?”  

“This afternoon. They offered to come here so you don’t have to go down to the station.  

“Ok.” 

My father nods, then looks at me timidly. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want—”  

“It’s fine.” I do have to do this. Not for me, but for Eric’s parents. I don’t want to think about what they’re feeling. Can’t be far from what I’m going through.  

When my father leaves a few minutes later, I am seriously starting to regret my decision. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle this. What are they going to ask me? What am I going to have to tell them? By no means have I forgotten about what happened that night. In fact, those are the only hours I clearly remember starting after the morning of Kalene’s end of year concert. It still plagues my mind and fights its way to the front, but I never purposely think about it. Stuffing it down to where I can’t find it is the only way I’m still here. Is that what I’m going to have to do for the police officers? Bring those memories up from the buried placed that’s only dug up at night when it works it way into my dreams?  At the thought of it, the scar on my forearm starts to tingle. I quickly rub my arm in attempts to make it go away.  

I consider calling Dr. Charm to tell her what I’m going to have to do, but what would I say? Kalene is another option, but she is probably doing something much more important than listening to me freak out. I consider backing out, but then picture Eric’s grieving parents and get the sudden wash of guilt. Instead of doing any of those things, I turn back to my notebook and start writing again. It’s the only thing I can think of that could possibly calm me.  

The morning drags into the afternoon much quicker than I thought it would. My father never told me when the police officers are coming, so all I can do is sit here on my window seat and wait. Finally, around two o’clock, a police cruiser pulls into the driveway. My heart is racing in my chest so frantically it almost hurts, and my scar starts to prick again. Out of instinct, my hand goes to fiddle with my rose necklace. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.  

I continue to stare out the window as the two officers get out of the cruiser and start to walk up the sidewalk to the front door. One is tall and muscular while the other one is short and round. The taller one looks a lot scarier while the shorter one only looks like a police officer because he’s wearing the uniform. If I weren’t in this situation, looking at them might be considered comical. They’re both talking to each other, and I really wish I could hear what they’re saying.  

Just a second later, the doorbell downstairs rings, and my ears perk up to listen to my father greet the two officers and invite them inside. I really do not want to go downstairs now. Maybe if I don’t move, I can just stay here on my bed forever. I won’t have to retell the worst thing that ever happened to me, and I won’t have to face the truth. But then there’s a knock on my door, and I know that there’s no hiding from what is waiting for me downstairs.  

“The officers are here, flower,” my father says gently as he pokes his head in. I nod, take one last glance at the world outside my window, then stand and follow my father downstairs.  

My heart is beating faster than ever as I grip my father’s arm while he helps me down the stairs, and the mumble of the two officers becomes clearer. When I make it to the kitchen, I spot the two men sitting at the kitchen table with glasses of water in front of them. I freeze in the doorway, and they both look up and over to me. The shorter one strokes his burly mustache and the taller one looks even scarier up close, but they both smile kindly.  

“Christi?” the shorter one asks as he stands up, and I nod shyly. “I’m Officer Holt. Nice to meet you.”  

I gulp and try to change my face from something so blank as I shake his hand.  

“Officer Charm,” the taller one comes in as he stands too.  

“Charm?” I repeat. He smiles, and all of a sudden, he doesn’t look so scary.  

“Yes, Charm,” he tells me. “You know my wife Felicity Charm. Dr. Charm is probably what you know her by.” 

“Oh,” I say blankly. I remember Dr. Charm mentioning something about her husband being a police officer, but I had no idea this was him.  

“We thought it might be a good idea if you had someone a little more familiar to talk to,” Officer Charm explains. “Officer Holt and I just have a few questions we’d like to ask you, then we’ll let you get on with your day. Is that ok?”  

“I guess so.”  

Officer Holt and Officer Charm sit back down at the table, and my father takes my hand to give it a squeeze as he leads me to sit across from them. I guess having Officer Charm does make things a little better. But I don’t really know him. I only know his wife.  

I start to fiddle with my necklace again as I watch Officer Holt pull out a small notepad and pen. I hate this feeling that I am being interrogated. I don’t want to talk about Eric. I already know that these questions they’re going to ask me aren’t going to be easy to answer. Having to relive and remember those things he did to me, relive that night he died, I don’t know if I can do it. But then I think of Eric’s parents again, of what they’re going through, and I try my best to take a deep breath and clear my head.  

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Officer Charm starts off as he rests his elbows casually on the table. “We’re hoping that with some of your answers, Eric’s passing will become a little clearer to all of us. All we want to do is ask you a few questions about the night he died, then a little bit about what happened before.”  

“Can I ask something?”  

“Of course.”  

“Do his parents hate me?”  

My father immediately jerks his head to look at me, but I refuse to stare anywhere but the two officers in front of me. They exchange a look, then look back at me.  

“They do not blame you for what happened, Christi.”  

“Are you lying to me?”  

“I swear I am not lying,” Officer Charm says clearly, and I believe him. I don’t know why that doesn’t make me feel any better. “They are very sorry for the way Eric treated you before he died, and they wish they could have done something to stop the events that happened between the two of you this year and the way it ended. They also hope that finding answers can help you heal too, not just them.”  

Tears fight their way to blur my vision. I can’t stop myself from thinking about what they felt when they found out their son had killed himself. I can picture it clearly; his mother slumped over from grief, sobbing into her husband who has a stoic expression that’s masking his devastation. Masking his pain of losing his only child. I shouldn’t blame myself for it, but I do. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t see that this was going to happen.  

“Are you ok, Christi?” Officer Charm’s voice breaks my thoughts. I look up from where I was staring intently at the table.  

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble.  

“It’s ok. Can I ask you a question now? I’d like to talk about the night he died first.” I take a large breath of air and nod. “I know that you lost some of your memory due to the traumatic brain injury, but do you remember the night he died?”  

“I remember everything.”  

“I know this is going to be hard for you, but can you tell us what happened that night?”  

“I don’t remember anything from Saturday morning up until the moment he had me in his car, but I remember what he did to me.” I take a deep breath of air. Everyone is staring at me, waiting for me to continue. I don’t know if I can do it. Not with my father sitting here already looking at me like I’m about to explode, not with these two officers staring patiently. But I have to. “I don’t know how I got there, but I remember him taking me from the parking lot.”  

“That’s what security footage shows,” Officer Holt comes in. “You walked out to the parking lot to leave a while after school was over, then Eric took you and put you in the back of his car.”  

I don’t remember leaving school later. I do, however, remember how deserted the parking lot was. I might be able to remember what I was doing at school so late if I tried hard enough, but I just can’t right now. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” I confirm. “He took me back to his house and . . . well, he nearly beat me to death.”  

“Has this happened before? Were you in an abusive relationship with Eric?”  

I swallow thickly. My father is burning a hole into the side of my head. I don’t want to admit it. I can’t. “Yes.”  

Officer Charm doesn’t push further. He doesn’t have to. All he does is nod.  

“After he beat you up, what happened?”  

“I passed out for an hour or so,” I remember, frowning down at the table and trying to focus on something else. “When I woke up, I was barely conscious, but I remember the gun he had in his hand.”  

“That was what was found in his hand when we entered his room that night,” Officer Holt confirms with a grave nod. I look at him and swallow again. There’s no doubt in my mind that the weapon was a gun, and there never has been. I saw it with my own two eyes, the only thing that I knew wasn’t a hallucination. I felt it against my forehead, the cool metal and the rough end, and I watched it turn.  

“He held it to my head. Said some things about wanting to kill me. I thought he was. He had this look in his eye, like, like . . .” My voice trails off. “Then he turned it on himself and pulled the trigger.”  

The room goes dead silent. Everyone is frozen, then Officer Holt scribbles something down on his notepad to fill the silence.  

“Your story matches up with the scene,” Officer Charm nods. “Thank you, Christi. Can I ask you some questions about before that night?”  

“Can I ask you a question?”  

“Yes.”  

“Where did Eric get the gun?”  

“We traced it back to a store a few miles out of town,” Officer Holt speaks. “He illegally purchased it, then must have kept it in his room for a few weeks before he got you.” 

There’s another long pause before Officer Charm finally asks his next question.  “Did you notice any changes in Eric? At the beginning of the year, when you first started dating, or even recently?” 

I try to clear my head and think back to the first time I really noticed something change in Eric. The more I think about him, the more my heart starts to hurt, so I pick the first answer I have and use that.  

“The beginning of this year, I think. I didn’t really talk to him that much over the summer, so maybe he changed then. I don’t really know.”  

Officer Holt nods and scribbles something down in his notebook.  

“You two spent a lot of time away from each other over the summer?” Officer Holt asks.  

“We weren’t fighting. I kind of had a lot going on that summer. I was busy.”  

“When you started noticing these changes,” Officer Charm continues, “what did you see? Attitude? Appearance? Did he tell you anything new he was doing? Drugs or alcohol maybe?”  

I pause for a moment. I don’t want to say it, but I have to. I have to for his parents. I owe it to them. “He got angry a lot,” I say in a near whisper and grab my necklace tightly. “Towards . . . the end . . . he started looking sick. I don’t remember the few days before he died. I don’t know . . . he might have done something then.”  

“When did he get angry?” More tears fill my eyes. It’s like reliving this year all over again. His yelling voice still rings through my head, his furious eyes still seem to bore into me, and his hand is still hard across my face. “Stay strong for me, Christi,” Officer Charm says gently. “You can do this. I promise it won’t last much longer.”  

My father wraps an arm around me, and I fall into his side. “He got angry when I did something he didn’t like,” I sniff and try to choke back my crying. “Sometimes I would show up late or try to avoid him or say something he thought was wrong.”  

I rub my eyes like doing that will get Eric out of my head. But it’s no use. Even in death, he still terrifies me.  

“And the yelling,” Officer Charm presses. “It turned into more, didn’t it?”  

I nod, and a few tears sprinkle down my cheeks.  

“He started to become v-violent,” I hiccup through my crying. “He pushed me around and then—then he started to hit me some time in April—then—then—.”  

I cry out and bury my face in my hands. My father wraps both his arms around me, and Officer Charm stops talking. I can’t relive it. I can’t even think about it. I can’t do it anymore.  

“Would you like some water?” Officer Holt asks quietly. I manage to nod my head, and the chair scrapes against the floor as he walks over to the sink. I pull my head out of my hands and try to wipe my stained face.  

“Just a few more questions, Christi,” Officer Charm assures me as Officer Holt hands me a glass of water. “You’re being very brave.” I take a long sip of water then wipe my face again. It’s almost over. I can answer the last questions. “Did you notice any signs in Eric that he was depressed or suicidal?”  

I shake my head, afraid that if I try to talk, I’ll just start sobbing. I didn’t see the signs, and that is why he’s dead.  

“There were signs,” I whisper. “I see them now. I didn’t see them back then.”  

“Can you elaborate on that?” Officer Holt asks.  

“He just acted different. I didn’t see him anymore, he treated me differently, just everything about him, really.”  

“Last question, Christi,” Officer Charm says. “Did Eric ever mention anything about a notebook?”  

“A notebook?” I ask and lift my head, suddenly all ears.  

“Yes.”  

“No, he never said anything about that. Why?”  

The two officers exchange a look again. “Eric kept a notebook that pretty much proves he was planning to end his life,” Officer Holt speaks. “There were notes about death, and he even wrote down the day he died as the day he was planning to do it.”  

“Like a journal?” I ask, somehow managing to find my voice despite the rock in my throat.  

“Yes,” Officer Holt says thickly. “He also wrote some other things in there.”  

“Like what?” The officers exchange a look again, and I suddenly get the feeling they aren’t going to tell me. “Please,” I say desperately. “I need to know what happened to him.”  

Officer Charm sighs, but he answers. “Eric also used to the journal to write down all the times he was abusive towards you.”  

I stare at him, and it’s quiet for a long moment. “Was he sorry?”  

I know what the answer is going to be, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less when Officer Charm says, “No. He made is sound like, like . . .”  

“Like he was enjoying it,” I finish quietly. I knew it. Every last part of my heart breaks into a million pieces. Maybe some manipulated part of my brain thought he regretted it after he was done. He knew it was wrong, but maybe he just couldn’t control it. But I was apparently wrong. I was weak and blind and let him throw me around like a rag doll. Was I the reason he killed himself? Was I not enough to keep him satisfied, not enough to keep him happy until he found a way out of these suicidal thoughts?  

“I think that’s enough,” my father says quietly but firmly. “Christi is not ready for this.”  

Officer Charm nods. “Thank you very much for your help, Christi. You did a great job. You’ve been very brave.”  

I nod numbly. Eric kept a notebook where he wrote suicidal thoughts. A notebook where he relived those moments where he hurt me like he enjoyed it. That’s not the Eric I met two years ago. What happened this year? Where did it go wrong? Did I do something? The worst part is, I can’t even live with the thought that he would answer these questions if I could ask him.  

When Officer Charm and Officer Holt leave, my father refuses to leave me alone. He says that I need him, and I guess he’s right. We lay together while I try to shake the events that just happened. The only thing that keeps me from breaking down is the hope that my information will help Eric’s parents. They should know what happened to their son even if the whole thing is terrible.  

My father must have called Kalene at some point, because she comes home during her free period and snuggles in my bed with us. It’s better to have them here. Despite the terrible circumstances, I feel closer to them. I feel like maybe I don’t have to fight this battle alone, and I no longer have the thought that they are the reason this happened to me.  

Later, when they think I’ve dozed off, the two of them leave. I’m sure my father is going to explain to my sister what the police officers told us. Tears are silently falling down my face as their voices echo outside my room, and I listen to my father retell the entire afternoon. 

“He wrote down the times he abused her? Like a psycho?” Kalene whispers not so quietly. She sounds heartbroken, and for a moment, I think she may be just as torn apart as I am.  

“He turned into a psycho if he wasn’t always one,” my father whispers back. “I feel terrible. Look at what she went through, Kalene. She’s so brave for living through it after all she went through.”  

“I think about it every day now, Dad,” my sister tells him. “She blames herself. I know it. It’s not her fault that he did this to her. He did it to himself.”  

“She can’t admit that. Imagine if you were her, honey. How would you feel?”  

“I would probably blame myself too,” she answers honestly. “Do you think Dr. Charm can help her?”  

“Christi is never going to be the same,” my father admits. “She’s going to hurt forever. This isn’t the kind of wound you can heal. But yes, I do think seeing Dr. Charm will help. Christi can still be happy. We can’t let her forget that.”  

“I feel like this is my fault, Dad,” Kalene whispers. I suddenly want to run out to the hallway and scream that it’s not. “I should have noticed.”  

“I feel like that too,” my father sighs, and guilt wells up inside me. “But we cannot blame ourselves. All we can do is be there next time, ok? Don’t tear yourself apart. We need to be there for her. She’s a strong girl. She’ll get through it.”  

“I know she will.” 

More tears fall down my face. That’s not what it feels like. It feels like things are going to be this way forever. My father is right. I am never going to be the same. 

The next few days are really hard. No matter how hard I try, I cannot forget the new information I learned from Officer Holt and Officer Charm. It works its way into my nightmares, and even into the time I am awake. When I’m reminded of the notebook Eric kept, I feel like that night I’ve been so desperately trying to stuff down rises to the surface. I picture him huddled in the corner of his room, knuckles bloody from where he punched me, writing frantically in his notebook. I don’t write later that night when I’m awoken from a nightmare. All I can see is the manic Eric doing what I do, writing like he can’t stop.  

I think of the conversation my father and Kalene had outside my room instead, and I get a pressure on my chest that makes me think everything I did was just a mistake. The feeling is so familiar now, that sinking rock in my stomach that makes me feel sick. I can’t stand the fact that they blame themselves for what happened to me. Thinking back to the day at the hospital where I yelled and blamed them makes me feel even worse. It’s not their fault.  

With so much going on now, I completely forget about meeting the tutor Dr. Charm recommended until my father brings it up while he gets ready to leave for work. With everything else happening, the idea of learning and school seems absolutely appalling.  

“Grandma Irene will be here since I have work,” my father tells me. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I have a really important—”   

“It’s ok, Dad,” I interrupt before he can get too worked up. “I’ll be ok.”  

I hope I’ll be ok. New people have always scared me, before and after Eric. Everything is always better when I have my father with me, but I have to learn to manage on my own since he can’t be by my side at every second. At least my grandmother will be here, and as wild as she can be sometimes, she makes me feel better too.  

“Ok,” my father smiles tightly, looking reluctant to leave me. “Call if you need anything. Grandma Irene will be here in a few minutes. Have a good day, flower.”  

“Thanks, Dad.”  

“I love you.”  

“Love you too.”  

The door closes behind him, and I am left alone for the long pause where I wait for Grandma Irene. It’s the first time I’ve been alone since I came home from the hospital, and even though it’s just for a few minutes, I feel a strange sense of loneliness. God, what is happening to me? 

Grandma Irene arrives a few minutes later, and I sit down with her while she reads, and I write. She keeps barking at me to take a chill pill and calm down, and I definitely try my hardest to do both of those things with no success. I’m tempted yet again to call my sister so she can calm me down, but then I remind myself that she’s probably really busy at school right now. So instead, I sit in an agonizing silence as I wait. A few hours later, after the long and dragged-out time where I panic and freak out, the tutor arrives.  

My grandmother answers the door while I sit nervously at the kitchen table, already getting a terrible sense of déjà vu from my meeting with the police officers. This won’t be anything like that hopefully, why should it? This tutor doesn’t know anything about me, and he doesn’t have to.  

“Ah, you must be Christi.”  

I look up from my hands that are folded on the table in front of me and stare at the man who is walking into the kitchen. He’s short and very round with white hair and round glasses pushed far up on his nose. His breathing is heavy like the walk from his car to the kitchen was as difficult as running a marathon, and his face is even a little pink.  

“Hi,” I say quietly as he makes himself right at home and sits down at the table in a chair across from me. I gulp and instinctively tug my sleeve further down my arm to hide my scar.  

“Nice to meet you, dear,” he says. “My name is Mr. Helmer.”  

“Nice to meet you.”  

“I thought we could talk a little about what we’re going to work on while we work together, then you can tell me a little about yourself.” 

“Ok,” I gulp nervously, and he smiles pleasantly.  

It takes me a minute to warm up to Mr. Helmer, but the longer he’s here, the less scared I get and the more comfortable I feel. He seems relatively laid back and relaxed, and even better, he doesn’t force me to talk. He invites the conversation of what I do with my life, but he never pushes when I start to get shy.  

Even though I’m terrified to reveal anything about myself, I actually end up really liking Mr. Helmer from the hour he’s here. He’s not the kind of person that expects everything to be so deep, he just enjoys the simple things. He passes the test I use to judge all people: the blow that Kalene Rodgers is my sister. He shows no reaction, he only smiles and nods. From then on, I feel a lot better.  

Mr. Helmer only talks a little bit about how my schooling is going to continue. He says he wants to finish what I have left of my Sophomore year over the summer, then we’ll work together to finish my last two years of high school. I’m grateful that he doesn’t say anything about collage or future jobs because frankly, I can’t get my brain to think that far ahead.  

Once the hour is up, I walk Mr. Helmer out to his car and thank him for coming. He gives me a pleasant handshake and says goodbye, then I watch his car pull out of the driveway and leave.  

My father is really pleased when I call him during his lunch break to tell him that I really like Mr. Helmer, and I am willing to give it a shot. Being honest, I think he’s just relieved that something was easy to fix for me. Once I hang up, Grandma Irene stays with me the rest of the day long after Mr. Helmer leaves, and I end up helping her with her baking again.  

“You should try doing some recipes yourself,” she suggests as we finish our fourth cherry pie and sit down at the kitchen table to take a break. “You have a knack for baking, Christi. You should do it more often.”  

“I bake for Kalene sometimes when she comes home,” I tell her with a shrug. “She loves chocolate chip cookies.”  

“Baking would be a nice thing for you to master,” my grandmother encourages. “Neither your father or sister can cook or bake that well. Don’t even ask me how many times your dad has called me asking me a simple cooking question. And it’s very relaxing at times. My baking class is in desperate need of a new chocolate cake recipe if you want to come up with one yourself.”  

“I don’t think I can come up with my own recipe.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Grandma Irene barks another one of her loony comments. “If you’re ever looking for something to do, remember my offer.” 

“Maybe I’ll try,” I say just to shut her up, but then think of the times I wake up in the middle of the night in desperate need of something to take my mind off the torture.  

When I do find myself in that situation of late-night craze, I decide to bake. I’m jerked awake from a nightmare around two in the morning, and after laying in my bed for twenty minutes simply trying to calm myself down, I drag myself out of bed and trudge downstairs to the kitchen. There, I spend the next two hours baking chocolate cake. I don’t make up a recipe just yet like Grandma Irene told me to, but I make two different cakes with two different recipes to try and get an idea. Making my own recipe might be a good distraction. Now when I wake up screaming and crying and unable to fall back asleep, I’ll have two options. Write or bake.  

A few days later, I start to see Mr. Helmer on weekdays to finish my Sophomore year. I still hate the whole idea of school and learning, but I am very grateful that I don’t have to go back to actual high school. He goes at whatever pace I’m comfortable with, and he’s so calm and relaxed I start to wonder if he has ever been angry before.  

Even better, he still continues to show no reaction that my sister is Kalene Rodgers. They sometimes run into each other when Kalene manages to find some time during her free period to stop by and Mr. Helmer is leaving, and all he does is say a polite hello. No wide eyes and expression that says WOW! IT’S KALENE RODGERS. He’s one of the only people I’ve ever met that seems to remember that my sister is an actual person, not someone on a poster.  

Speaking of Kalene, I’m rather surprised when she finds as much time as possible to come home during her free period. At first, I think something may be wrong at the Academy. She’s always busy during the weekdays, especially during the summer while they prepare for the play on September first. When I bring this up, she assures me she’s fine, and I believe her. Something still seems strange.  

I’m not at all complaining that I get to sit with her, even if it’s just for an hour. We play piano a lot more, and when she’s lucky, I sing along with her for whatever we’re playing. She loves it when I add my voice with hers.  

“You have such a beautiful voice, Christi,” she gushes every time. “You should sing more.”  

I know she’s only saying it so I don’t stop, but I appreciate it either way. 

“Have you ever considered voice lessons?” she randomly asks me one afternoon towards the end of August. “It would be another fun hobby.” 

“Singing isn’t really my thing,” I try to tell her, but now that the seed is planted in her head, there’s no stopping it from growing. “I’m serious, don’t give me that look.”  

“Just a suggestion. You know me. Full of new ideas.”  

She doesn’t let it go just as I suspected. For the next week and a half, she won’t shut up about getting me a voice teacher. I tell her no over and over again, but it’s no use. She is never going to stop until she gets what she wants.  

As we move into the second week of the idea Kalene claims is brilliant, she starts trying to get me in a good mood so I’m happy with her. She goes to get me the mini cinnamon rolls that are only for special occasions, forces me to sing even more than normal, and she even stays for dinner one night. When I snap at her for trying to convince me to take a lesson by doing all these nice things, she brushes it off. I start to get angry at her every time she comes over, and one day I tell her I don’t want to see her if all she is going to do is talk about singing. She doesn’t come over the next day for the first time in nearly two weeks.  

My anger is not at all cured when I visit Dr. Charm to tell her about my sister’s annoying persistence. I get so frustrated by the whole thing that it drives me to complain to her during one of our meetings.  

“That would be a fun think to try,” she says cheerfully after I finish venting.  

“I don’t sing,” I nearly yell in exasperation. “It’s not even that enjoyable, and I don’t sing for anyone other than my sister.”  

“Maybe Kalene could teach you. You said she’s been spending a lot of time at home.”  

“No,” I say flatly. “The only reason she’s home so much is because she wants to win this battle. Once it’s over, she’ll be back to her stupid school. Just you wait.”  

“I don’t think she’ll do that,” Dr. Charm says calmly with a shake of her head. “She’s just trying to help you find something.”  

I purse my lips and frown at the ground. What does Dr. Charm know about my sister? Kalene always finishes something once she starts it, then drops it just after the task is taken care of. I don’t want to be another one of her stupid ideas that gets thrown away the second it’s over. Even if I did agree to this voice lesson, she’d forget about the whole thing as soon as the first one is over. 

“I don’t want her help if she’s going to leave by the time this whole thing moves forward,” I say finally, and Dr. Charm knows that I’ve made up my mind.  

~0o0~ 

“I have a surprise for you, little flower,” Kalene tells me over the phone a few days later. She hasn’t been home since I told her to drop the whole singing thing.  

“I don’t want to talk to you.”  

“Geez, hello to you too.”  

“I’m not kidding. If you say singing lesson one more time, I’m hurdling myself off the roof.”  

“Don’t joke about that.”  

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”  

“I’ll be home in ten minutes,” she says, and before I get the chance to speak, she hangs up.  

I let out a frustrated sigh and throw my phone down. As of last week, I want nothing to do with Kalene. Her persistence at something that I really don’t want to do annoys me more and more each time she brings it up. If I say no, then I seriously mean no. Whatever she’s about to drag me into, it’s not like I have an excuse I can use. Maybe extra work for Mr. Helmer? Nope, she’d just ask to see it. There’s no getting out of this. Why does she have to be so stubborn?  

“Christi!”  

I groan a little and shrink back into my window seat. The door bangs open a split second later, and even though I was expecting her dramatic entrance, I still flinch. Her face looks bright and alive, and she has a look on her face that just gives it away. She is up to no good.  

“Come on. I have a surprise for you. Get your shoes on and meet me in my car.”  

“I’m not going anywhere,” I state firmly, but she doesn’t seem phased.  

“Yeah, you are. Come on, it’s a surprise.”  

“No, Kalene.”  

“Christi—”  

“No!” I yell, and she immediately stops talking. “I don’t like . . . going places . . . anymore.”  

“Would it make you feel better if I told you?” she asks, and I just stare at her. “Fine. I got you a voice lesson.”  

For a second, I don’t think I heard her correctly. After the numerous times of me telling her no to this whole voice lesson thing, I never thought she’d take it this far. 

“You’re kidding me.”  

“Ok, you’re obviously pissed. Don’t worry, we still have thirty minutes before it starts.”  

“I’m more than pissed,” I growl, and clench my fists together to hide their shaking rage. “What the hell, Kalene? I told you a thousand times that I don’t want to do this. It’s my decision, not yours. And you went behind my back to set this up! Who does that?” 

“Well you’re not exactly doing anything yourself to make things better,” she snaps, and it suddenly feels like my chest is on fire.  

“How dare you!”  

“What, you’re going to tell me I’m wrong?” she yells. My mouth drops in shock. “All you do is sit on this damn window seat and wait for things to get better. Well guess what, Christi, they’re not. Not unless you take a hold of life and move on.”  

Tears fill my eyes and mix with the anger. She doesn’t get it. The one person who I thought might understand doesn’t get it. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have to fight through every single day. Things have always been handed to my sister, and I’ve always been the one that dealt with all sorts of bullsh*t. And I’m sick of trying. I’m sick of trying for something that doesn’t even exist, sick of trying for people that don’t even care.  

“You listen to me,” I say in a dangerously low voice. I’ve never been this angry. It’s like hot liquid is flowing through my veins. “Life doesn’t work like that, Kalene. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I am trying, that maybe I’m sick of trying? You’re so damn preoccupied with making yourself feel better you’re not even thinking things through. I know exactly what you’re playing at. You’re trying to get me better so you can stop blaming yourself for the reason my life is destroyed. Well guess what? My life can’t get better, so open your eyes. I f*cked up my own life and you had nothing to do with it. Now take your pity party and get the hell out of my room.”  

I’ve officially knocked the words right out of Kalene. She just stands there and stares at me, no sign of emotion on her face. She’s stone. All I want is for her to react, to show some sort of feeling. It would at least let me know that she’s listening, that she didn’t mean those words and she wants to be here for me. She just needs to scream or cry or laugh or do anything but stand there. But just like typical Kalene, her face doesn’t move. She’s always going to hide from me. Before I can yell again, before I can force her to be human, she turns around and leaves.  

I collapse to the ground, refusing to look out the window as I hear the door slam and her car pull out of the driveway. I don’t cry. I’m not upset. I’m just tired. So, so tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. Kalene was right, even if it was for the wrong reasons. I’m not making any progress. It’s been months since Eric died, and I’m still the same Christi, if not worse. It’s no use. Dr. Charm would try to tell me that change takes time, and these kinds of things don’t happen so quickly, but I need them to. I need to get better so I can have my sister back. I need my father to stop worrying about me. I need the look of pity to go away. But I can’t do it.  

I can’t do it anymore.  

I really wish I could cry right now. I just want all of this anger and hopelessness to leave me for once, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m just stuck here in this useless ball of nothing. Why am I even still here if things are going to be this hard for the rest of my life? I don’t want to live like that. I can’t live like that.   

I need air.  

I pull myself off the ground and trudge downstairs. My chest suddenly feels tight. The air always helps. All I have to do is make it to the front door, then I can think this whole thing through. How am I going to continue living my life? How am I ever going to talk to my sister again?  

I’m just about to pull open the door when I stop. There’s a small sticky note with a time and address stuck right on the handle. Kalene left this here. It’s the information for the voice lesson she scheduled. Something inside me bitterly laughs. I grab the small pink note and stare at it. It starts in ten minutes. If I leave now, I’ll only be a few minutes late.  

What am I thinking? I just fought with my sister over this to the point where we probably won’t talk to each other for a week. And if she really wanted me to go, she would have stayed and fought for it. She would have showed me how she was feeling. But still, something inside me twinges. Why am I even considering this? Because I’m now desperate enough that I’m willing to do something as crazy as this if it convinces my family that something in me is better? I don’t mind singing, I guess. And it’s only one person, it’s not like I have to meet a whole new group of people. If I hate it, I won’t go back. But what if you suck?  

I gulp and continue to stare down at the note. Kalene wouldn’t set me up for something that would put me in danger, even if she’s blinded by her determination to fix something in me. And this teacher doesn’t have to know that Kalene Rodgers is my sister. Kalene probably made the appointment as me. If she asks, I’ll tell her I have a sister. My sister won’t be Kalene.  

Oh my God, I must be going crazy. The stubborn part of me doesn’t want to go just to stand my ground. A greater part of me is terrified to even leave the house. But there’s a miniscule part that wants to go. Singing has never been something I’ve been super passionate about or really worked at, but I don’t hate it. Maybe this teacher will give me another hobby. There’s no harm in that, right?  

Before I can back out and before my legs lose use again, I pull open the door and power walk to my car. I’m crazy. I’m insane. But seriously, what do I have to lose at this point? When my father hears I went to this lesson, he’ll be so happy he may not even worry about me for a few days. And Kalene, as angry as I am at her right now, might feel better too.  

During the fifteen minutes I drive to the address Kalene left for me, I’m shaking like crazy. The nervousness feels like it’s grilling at my insides, and as badly as I want to turn around and go home, I don’t. All I do is grip the steering wheel and try to take deep breaths so I don’t have an anxiety attack right here in the middle of the road.  

The address takes me to a small apartment complex. When I park my car and look around some more, I notice a lot of senior citizens. It looks like a nice place to live. Things are blooming, the building looks well kept, and everyone walking around seems relaxed. I take another deep breath, then finally force my shaking legs to move forward and inside the building.  

The lobby smells and awful lot like honey. It travels with me the entire time as I walk through the lobby, to the elevator, then through the maze of hallways on the third floor. Finally, after nearly five minutes of searching, I find the apartment. I stare at the door for a moment, my hands shaking and my heart pounding furiously. This is definitely not a good idea. I should just go home.  

I raise my hand to the door and hold it there for a moment. Do I really want to do this? Once I knock, there’s no going back. But I made it this far, I guess. There’s no point in turning around, and there’s nothing to lose. I finally move my hand and pound on the door. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears, the knot is still in my chest, and I can’t really explain why I’m doing this to myself. I’m absolutely terrified. With no idea where this is going, I’m standing in front of this door waiting for it to open.  

I can hear shuffling coming from inside, then suddenly, the door opens. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and try to smile at the woman who stands in front of me. She’s doesn’t look that much older than me, probably somewhere in her early twenties. She’s short with light red hair and freckles, making her look younger than she probably is. Round glasses frame her face, and when I look at her clothes, I immediately get the singer vibe.  

“Hi,” she chirps out happily, and she give me a smile that shows her teeth. “Christi?”  

“Yeah,” I manage to get out. My throat is still incredibly tight.  

“I’m Penny Peters,” she grins. “Come on in.” 

Her apartment is exactly what I pictured it to look like. There’s a very artsy feel to it. The furniture is colorful and matching, everything is very bright, and there are paintings on nearly every wall. A small area with a piano and music stand is lit up by the light coming through the window, and I notice a large easel with a half-finished painting nearby. It no longer smells strongly of honey, but rather of drying paint and a paper. It feels more like a studio than an actual house, but I love everything about it.  

“You have a lovely home,” I say as I glance around at everything. It’s true. Everything is bright, alive, and happy. The knot in my chest lessens slightly.  

“Thank you,” Penny says, and I follow her over to where the piano and music stand are. “I like bright colors, if you couldn’t tell.”  

I smile the slightest bit and glance out the window in front of me. She has a great view of the garden below where people are walking, talking, and doing whatever else. I turn my head and look at the apartment again. I love it here.  

“I like to paint too,” Penny adds when she catches me looking at the many paintings. “Just a hobby of mine.”  

“You made these?” I ask in disbelief. “They’re incredible.”  

“Thanks,” she smiles. “What about you? What do you like to do?”  

“I like to bake,” I blurt out randomly. It was the first thing that came to mind. “Oh, and I play some piano too.”  

“That’s awesome,” Penny says casually. “You’ll have to bring me some baked goods sometime. I have to warn you, I am vegan. That’s an extra challenge.”  

I smile awkwardly and clutch my hands in front of me.  

“Anyways,” she continues with a dramatic gesture of her hands. “Come on over to my piano. It’s awesome that you play.”  

I timidly follow her, and a weight feels like it has been lifted off my shoulders when I sit down at her bench. A smile tugs at my lips as I run my hands over the keys. This piano is really nice.  

“This piano was given to me by my grandmother,” Penny tells me. “She was a singer too. I used to play every time I visited her.”  

“It’s beautiful,” I tell her.  

“Thank you,” she says. “You can play while we sing if you want. When I first started singing, I found it made me feel better doing something else too.”  

“I would love that.”  

“So, do you have any experience with singing?”  

“Not with a teacher,” I respond as I continue to run my hands along the piano. “Just for fun. I decided to try something new.”  

“Fun,” she says joyfully. “It’s fun to teach the basics. It’ll be easier to learn considering you know how to play piano. How long have you been playing?”  

“Only a few months,” I say timidly. “My sister has been playing since she was four. She taught me.”  

“That’s nice,” Penny smiles. “You have a sister?”  

I freeze. Shit. Out of every possible thing she could have asked me, she just had to ask that.  

“Yeah,” I finally respond. “She’s about a year older than me.” I hold my breath as I wait for her to respond. 

“That’s cool,” she replies. I let out a breath of air and relax slightly when she starts talking again.   

At the start of the lesson, I’m conflicted. I shouldn’t be liking this since I made such a big deal about not wanting to come when my sister just sprung it on me, but I’m love with it now. I’m not scared, I’m not worried that Penny is going to hate me, and I’m not regretting my decision. The second we start, I’m the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time.  

We start off singing a song I requested, one that my sister and I have sung together before. Penny sings with me to start off so I don’t feel as uncomfortable, and I play piano. Towards the end of the forty-five minutes we have together, I do some of the singing on my own. I appreciate the advice she gives me, and she seems rather thrilled with my voice.  

“You have an absolutely beautiful voice,” she tells me. “Lots of potential. I can’t wait to see you next week.”  

I don’t think twice when I schedule another lesson for the same time next week. I thank her profusely for the advice she gave me today, and after her happily telling me that she’s excited for our next meeting, I leave her apartment.  

I’m buzzing with energy when I finally make it back to my car a few minutes later. I hate to admit it, but my sister was right. I just need to try things. Half the time, I’m overthinking it all. And maybe even though I can’t see it right now, I think the small chances I am taking bring me one step closer.  

I sit in silence with my arms crossed on the back porch in the early morning, gazing out at the sunrise as it slowly streaks across the sky. Normally I lay in bed after my six-a.m. alarm goes off to wake me from my nightmare, but today I needed air. I couldn’t just sit there after the nightmare I had. I can still remember it so vividly it’s as if I’m still asleep.  

The sky is clear, and the air is pleasantly warm. It’s obvious that the season is summer. It reminds me of the few months Eric and I had before everything started changing. Our relationship was great, the time we spent together was perfect, and neither of us had a care in the world. Now, I’m standing on the edge of a roof on a tall building with Eric beside me, our hands linked.  

“What do you think would happen if I jumped off this building?” he asks me, and I tear my gaze off the city view to look at him. His black hair is blowing in the wind, and the expression on his face is unreadable.  

“Why would you do that?”  

“I don’t know,” he responds, then let’s go of my hand to take a step forward.  

If Eric were to jump, he would die. This building is probably 100 stories high. Still, I don’t move. I only watch as he squats down to peak over the edge and looks down at the ground below. He turns his head and gives me a wicked grin.  

“I’m gonna jump.”  

I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows at him.  

“No, you’re not,” I tell him and move closer to where he’s still squatting.  

I continue to watch as he grips the edge of the building and lowers himself so he hangs dangerously high above the ground. The grin doesn’t leave his face. It’s as if this whole thing is a joke. There’s a strange mania lining his features that looks strangely familiar.  

“Ready, Christi?”  

I quickly kneel down in front of him, suddenly feeling very panicked.  

“Are you ready, Christi?” he repeats. “On the count of three.”  

“Eric, stop.”  

“One!”  

“This isn’t funny, pull yourself back up here.”  

“Two!”  

“I said stop!”  

“Three!”  

“Eric!”  

He lets out a gleeful laugh as his hands relax and let go of the edge. I throw out my arms and grab his hands just in time. I cry out from his sudden weight and grit my teeth to hide the pain that shoots through my arms. Eric starts to laugh again, and the awful high-pitched sound rings through my ears.  

“Now you can’t let me go!” he screeches. “You can’t be the one that kills me. Not again.”  

“Eric,” I sob. My arms are starting to shake, and tears are flowing down my face. “Please don’t. I can’t lose you like this. Not again.”  

“It’s your own fault,” he cackles. “It’s always been your fault. All of it!”  

More tears fall down my face. My palms are getting sweaty. He’s starting to slip.  

“If you let me go, I swear to God I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll find a way to make you suffer!”  

I let out another cry and desperately try to tighten my grip on his hands. It’s no use.  

“I can’t hold you, Eric!” I wail.  

“Don’t let go! I swear to God, Christi, don’t let go!”  

“I’m trying, Eric. I’m trying!”  

“Don’t—”  

His hands slip out of mine, and I scream as I watch his body plummet to the pavement below. Time slows down, and I am physically unable to look away from his face that is contorted with an indescribable rage. I see every bone in his body break when it hits the ground. His head splits open and his blood turns the pavement red. Then the voices start. There are thousands of them screaming at me for my mistake that cost a life. Some of the voices I don’t recognize, some of them I do.  

That’s the last thing I remember before I woke up sobbing and drenched in sweat.  

The sun continues to rise over the horizon as I stare ahead. I’ve never had a dream like that before. Never have I felt so trapped, and never has it felt so real. That Eric was the exact same Eric I know. Knew. Calm and friendly at first, then angry and insane.  

“What are you doing up so early?”  

I jump about a foot in the air and spin in my seat towards the sound of the voice.  

“Sorry,” my father apologizes as he steps out of the house and onto the porch with me.  

“Please don’t do that,” I breathe as I try to catch my breath.  

“Sorry,” he says again, then sits down next to me. “Trouble sleeping?”  

“Nightmare,” I confirm.  

“Do you want to talk about it?”  

I shake my head and swallow the growing lump in my throat. It’s quiet for a long moment, and I drum my fingers awkwardly against my knee.  

“So,” my father starts again, “do you want to tell me why Kalene hasn’t been home for the past two weeks?”  

I gulp. I’ve been trying to avoid that topic ever since my sister and I had our fight nearly two weeks ago. I haven’t talked to her since I kicked her out of my room. No texts, no calls, nothing. I don’t plan to talk to her until she comes to apologize. I’ve continued my lessons with Penny either way. My sister has no idea I even went to the first one, and I don’t plan on telling her. I’m still furious.   

“No,” I say finally, and my father sighs. 

“Kalene won’t tell me either,” he says. “I hate seeing you girls fight like this. Maybe I can help.”  

“Yeah, well things have changed,” I snap, then instantly regret it when I see the look on his face. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” 

“Whose fault is it, then?”  

“Kalene’s.” I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to further explain. I really don’t want to continue this conversation. Any moment that I fight with my sister I prefer to forget. In this case though, I suddenly don’t care. I’ve never been so angry at her before, and I really want to tell it all to my father so she’ll get in trouble. “Kalene was the one who made me the voice lesson,” I tell him. “She has no idea I went.”  

“Oh,” my father says, and I can tell he’s wildly confused.  

“I didn’t want to go,” I continue. “She’d been bugging me for weeks about getting me a teacher; I’m sure you can remember that. Well, she just randomly sprung it on me one day without my permission, and I told her I didn’t want to go. She got angry and started yelling at me to get a move on with my life and stop waiting for things to change.”  

“Really?”  

“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “I gave her a piece of my mind, she left, and we haven’t spoken since.”  

“Christi—”  

“It’s fine,” I interrupt before he can say anything else.  

“It’s not fine. Was she rude about it?”  

“That would be an understatement,” I grumble, but I don’t think he hears me.  

“Maybe I should talk to her. She shouldn’t be talking to you like that.”  

“Yeah, well . . . .” My voice trails off. I don’t know what to say next. That she was right? That maybe I have been sitting on my rear end too long and haven’t even been trying to fix things? Half the time, I am wallowing in my own sadness. But I know I was right too. It’s an accomplishment for me to make it through one day. But that’s not how it should be. I should be making more progress than that, right? 

“You know I’m very proud of you, flower,” my father tells me, and I can hear the honesty in his voice. “I’m serious. I’m not trying to defend what your sister said to you, but you should know that she blames herself for what happened to you.”  

“I know, Dad,” I say quietly. “I feel terrible that she does. All she wants is for me to get better . . . I know that it’s hard for her.”  

“We’re all dealing with this in our own way,” my father says gently as he puts his hand on my leg comfortingly. “Don’t worry about your sister. Just focus on yourself for now. I can talk to Kalene if you want.”  

“It’s fine.”  

“Maybe you should try talking to her. Tell her about your voice lessons. She’ll be elated to hear that you’re going.”  

“I’m not talking to her until she apologizes.”  

My father sighs and finally stands. “Talk about it with Dr. Charm today,” he suggests. “She gives good advice.”  

“Maybe I will.”  

“Ok, then, I’m off to work. Are you sure you’re ok by yourself today? Grandma Irene is sorry she can’t come.”  

“I’ll be ok,” I assure him. “Have a good day at work.”  

“Thank you, flower,” he smiles and bends down to kiss my forehead. “I love you. Call if you need anything.”  

I nod, and he leaves me alone on the porch.  

Dr. Charm will probably tell me the same thing my father did. I should just call Kalene and apologize and talk it out. But this isn’t my mistake to fix. She’s the one who needs to come to me. But is it really worth it if it means losing my sister? Maybe she feels bad and she’s just scared I’m going to snap at her again. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. 

I let out a frustrated sigh and fall back into my seat. I still have another two hours to contemplate this before I have to leave for Dr. Charm’s office. Maybe I’ll go upstairs and work on the stuff Penny gave me to work on. Or maybe I could work on finding some vegan recipes for the next time I see her.  

I finally stand and wander into the house. I think I’ll start with the recipes this morning, then I’ll work on the singing this afternoon. Just as I make it upstairs to my room so I can sit on my window seat, my phone rings loudly. I glance sideways, and my eyes widen. Kalene is calling me. I don’t believe it. I just stare at her name flashing across the screen. Do I really want to answer? Is she going to make me apologize? At the very last second, I decide to answer.  

“Hello?”  

“Hi, Christi,” my sister’s voice rings from the other end, and I feel my insides warm at the sound of her voice. It’s quiet for a long, awkward moment.  

“I’m sorry.”  

“I went to the voice lesson,” I say at the exact same time.  

“You did?”  

“I’m sorry too.”  

She chuckles lightly, and I find something inside of me smiling.  

“I’ll go first,” she says finally. “I was a bitch to you the other day. I should never have said those things, it was horrible. You’re doing a great job, Christi, and I know you’re really trying.”  

I don’t say anything because I have no idea how to respond.  

“You were right,” Kalene continues when I stay at a loss for words. “I did blame myself for what happened. Heck, I still do sometimes. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, little sister.”  

“That’s not true,” I try to say, but she cuts me off.  

“No, it is true,” she says firmly. “You didn’t feel comfortable talking to me about Eric, and you should have. I know I’m away at school all the time, but that’s not an excuse. You’re my sister.”  

I don’t say anything again. 

“I’m sorry, Christi, I really am. I’m sorry for what happened to you, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there, and I’m sorry I’ve been a sh*tty sister this past year. But I want that to change. Don’t hesitate to talk to me anymore, ok?”  

I’m not afraid to talk to my sister. I never have been. Sure, I was a little hesitant when she first joined the Academy, but leaving Eric wasn’t a matter of talking to her then running away. She still doesn’t get it, but I don’t think anyone ever will. But if this version makes her feel better, then I’m willing to go with it.  

“Ok,” I say finally. “But this was never your fault to begin with, Kalene. I just—”  

“I know,” she interrupts me, and I believe it. We no longer have to fight the battle that this was never her fault. “But it’s not your fault either, little flower.”  

I swallow the growing lump in my throat.  

“Let’s just stop with the blame,” she says eventually. “It’s over. Let’s move forward.”  

“Ok,” I say quietly.  

“Let’s be done with the fighting, ok? I don’t like not being able to talk to you every day.”  

My insides smile, but my face doesn’t move. “Ok.”  

There’s another pause, and I count the seconds in my head until Kalene finally blurts out, “So, you decided to go to the lesson?”  

“I did,” I say, and I can picture her pleased smile from wherever she is now. “I actually . . . I actually loved it.” 

“I hate to say I told you so, but . . .”  

“You told me so,” I admit. “I had my third lesson yesterday.”  

“And you’re really loving it? Not just because I told you to do it?”  

“I really love it, Kalene,” I say honestly. “Thank you. Sorry I may have . . . overreacted.”  

“You didn’t overreact. Maybe a little, but I crossed a line.”  

“Let’s just forget about it,” I repeat her words from earlier.  

“Deal. Why don’t you tell me more about your lesson?”  

For the next hour or so before I leave for Dr. Charm’s office, my sister and I talk over the phone. It feels great to have her back. I tell her all about my lessons with Penny, and she talks about what she’s been doing the past weeks we weren’t talking. I think a lot about what Kalene said about us fighting. My sister and I rarely argue, but these past few months have clearly been an exception. It sucks.  

I only briefly mention the fight with my sister to Dr. Charm. She seems to want to talk about my fight with Kalene even though it’s clearly in the past now and really isn’t bothering me anymore.  

“How did you feel when you fought?” she asks gently. “Her words must have hurt you.”  

“They did,” I sigh. “They really did. But she didn’t mean it. She was just frustrated. And I don’t really blame her for that.”  

“Why do you say that?”  

I pause for a moment. “It’s sort of true. I mean, I really haven’t been doing anything to get better, have I? Everything is the exact same as it was when Eric died. Nothing has happened that’s made things better.”  

I internally groan when she tells me the exact same thing both my sister and my father said. You’ve made more progress than you’ve realized. Yeah, whatever. I don’t need all these people telling me how well I’m doing when all I do is sit on my window seat and overthink every possible thing. 

Dr. Charm pushes for another hour over the fight between Kalene and I. Once we’ve covered every single possible aspect that can possibly be covered from that disagreement, she finally moves to something else.  

“I want to talk about something a little different today to end our session.” I nod and pull my legs up to my chest, grateful that we’re moving onto something else. “There’s a group therapy meeting this Saturday.”  

“I don’t want to go to that,” I spit the second the words leave her mouth.  

“I think it would be a great thing for you, Christi,” she tries again. “You’ve felt comfortable talking to me. I think it would be a great idea to talk to other people too.”  

“I don’t want to talk to other people.”  

“Then just sit and listen,” she offers. “A lot of my clients tell me it makes them feel better just listening and observing.”  

I stare at her. There’s absolutely no way that I could ever go to one of those sessions. I don’t even think I could deal with other people’s stories let alone retell my own. Anything that even vaguely relates to Eric makes me want to throw up. Despite the conversation we just had about what progress really is and what steps I should be taking, I can’t see myself saying yes to this.  

But then again, is this like the voice lesson? Am I overthinking it? Maybe this really will help me. My father would be happy to know that I’m doing something like this, something that brings me another step closer to a normal life. Not that going to group therapy is necessarily normal, but still. Maybe I have to do this for him. He can’t take any more trouble. He can’t take anymore panic attacks or crying or trouble. Neither can my sister. Look what this whole thing has done to our relationship. I can’t have that again.  

“When’s the meeting?”  

“Saturday,” Dr. Charm repeats. “That gives you a few days to think it over. If you decide to go and hate it, then I won’t make you go back.”  

“I’ll think about it,” I decide.  

“I think it’s great that you’re considering this, Christi. I’ll write down the time and address for you.”  

I, for one, don’t think it’s a great idea. I have no idea what to expect, I have no idea what kind of people are going to be there, I don’t know anything. Trying new things and going new places is clearly not my thing. Dr. Charm may have said that I don’t need to talk, but what if they expect me to? I definitely cannot do that.  

My father and Kalene think it’s a great idea too, but they just agree with whatever Dr. Charm says. In the end, I decide to give it a try. Who knows, maybe I’ll find it helpful, and maybe it’ll put my father and Kalene at ease knowing I’m at least trying. That seems to be all they need right now.  

Saturday morning, I’m freaking out. The routine of second guessing and panicking comes and goes just like every other time I try something new, and eventually, I drag myself out of the house to the address Dr. Charm gave me.  

The building twenty minutes away that the address takes me to is a small church that looks run down and old. This is just what I was afraid of. A group of grumpy teenagers that meet in the basement of a church while some old guy sings Christian songs. I stare at the building for a moment, clutching the paper Dr. Charm gave me in my hand. Even though I’m definitely second-guessing this, she would never have me do something she thought I would hate. I guess I’ll have to trust her on this one.  

Against my better judgement, I step out of my car and drag myself to the church. The inside smells like a burning candle and old people. It reminds me of those brief days my family spent here. That was so long ago. I was probably ten years old the last time I went. Kalene and I would dread it. We hated sitting in the pew for over an hour while the priest droned on about something we didn’t care about. As soon as I make it inside, those days flash through my mind, and I automatically get the feeling I shouldn’t be here. One day, we just stopped going to church. I don’t really know why.  

Personally, I was never quite the religious type. My parents are both the type of doctors that believe in science, not some great divine force. Actually, the only reason we really went to church in the first place was because Grandma Irene is very religious. I never had much of a thought about what’s really out there. After everything that has happened to me, I’m not really sure if I believe that some great God is watching over me all the time. I shudder and hurry past the sanctuary where masses are held. After my years of abandoning that place, I don’t think I should be anywhere near it.  

I pull my jacket tighter around me and glance down at the paper again. Room 372? How am I supposed to know where that is?  

“Lost?”  

I flinch and spin around at the sound of the voice. A young girl around my age is walking towards me, an easy smile on her face and a purse slung around her shoulder.  

“Um,” I choke, finding it very hard to get my voice back. I hastily press my forearm with my scar against my stomach and hurriedly pull my sleeve further down my arm.  

“You must be the new girl Molly told me about,” she says. “Looking for group therapy?”  

“Um, yeah,” I say nervously, and she smiles again.  

“I’m headed there too. I can take you.”  

I don’t say anything else as she falls into stride with me, then leads me down a flight of stairs to a new hallway.  

“I’m Taylor,” she tells me as we walk together. She looks ok. She’s tall with brown hair that has purple streaks in it and is wearing a large Rolling Stones t-shirt. Something about her is rather intimidating, but for some reason, she doesn’t seem that scary to me.  

“Christi,” I introduce myself quietly once I’m done staring at her.  

“It’s awesome that you’re coming today,” she continues. “There’s only two other girls my age that go. Maya and Emily are both seventeen. How old did you say you are again?”  

“I didn’t,” I stumble awkwardly. “I’ll be seventeen in a few months.”  

“That’s cool. Nice necklace you got there. I like you already.” I try to force a smile on my face to make up for my lack of words while she angles her head to study me. “Not a talker, huh?”  

“Um, no, not really,” I say awkwardly.  

“That’s ok. The quiet people are always the cool ones. Maya is quiet too, and she’s awesome. So’s Emily. She’s a surfer.” I have no idea what to say, so I just nod clumsily. “Well, here we are.”  

After winding through hallway after hallway, we finally stop outside a room that must be for group therapy. Taylor pulls open the door, and the two of us walk inside together.  

It’s nothing like I pictured. Rather than a room filled with pictures of saints and a huge carpet with Jesus, the room is light blue with white tile. Tables are pushed up against the walls, and the most random looking chairs are placed in a circle shape in the middle of the room. One of the chairs is wooden and tall, but there’s also a rolling chair and a beanbag.  

A lot of people are other here. When I look around some more, I notice that it’s all women. Women of different ages, colors, backgrounds, shapes, heights, everything. I’ve never seen such a diverse group.  

“Hi, Taylor!” someone calls out, and both Taylor and I turn our heads to look out at a woman happily marching towards us.  

She’s short and very cheerful looking, and when I look at her, I’m immediately reminded of a mother. Her short wavy hair is pulled back in a loose bun, and she carries a small stack of papers.  

“Hey, Molly,” Taylor says with another grin. “I found the newbie.”  

Taylor and Molly hug, and I’m surprised when Molly gives me a tight hug too. She smells distinctly of lemons. 

“Christi, right?” she asks me kindly once we’ve pulled back, and I nod. “I’m Molly. Nice to meet you.”  

“You too,” I say and smile weakly.  

“I run the sessions here,” she continues. “I’m glad you came today. We’re just about to start.”  

I continue to stay silent as I follow Molly and Taylor over to the circle of random chairs and take a seat in a rolling chair. Everyone else starts to sit down, and pretty soon, the room is silent.  

“Thank you all for coming today,” Molly warmly addresses the group of people. “We have someone new joining us today. Ladies, this is Christi.” All eyes land on me, and I feel my face heat up. “Let’s all do our best to make her feel welcome and a part of our group.”  

Everyone smiles at me, and I reach to fiddle with my rose necklace.  

When the meeting starts and people start talking, I’m still feeling scared and tense in my seat. But the more I sit there and the more I listen, the less scared I get. Just about everyone except me talks. Hearing the stories of these women makes me feel better in a way. Knowing that I’m not alone and knowing that there are other people who are just as scared as I am opens up a whole new world. I understand all of them. The way their faces change when they listen to someone talk, their own fear they get when they speak. It reminds me a lot of myself. I know what that fear looks like because I have it.  

And they’re all different. There’s an older woman who was abused by her best friend and still comes twenty years after she left, Molly who was abused by her husband and now leads the group, a young woman named Amy who is blind, and Taylor who was also abused by her ex-boyfriend just like me. I listen to all of them talk about the same pain I felt with Eric, the same hopelessness that things were never going to get better. And for once, I finally feel like someone gets it. I don’t talk, but I don’t feel ashamed about that. No one pressures me to say anything. Right now, listening is just enough.  

When the meeting is eventually over, I feel better than I have since Eric died. Somehow, even though I didn’t say anything, I feel a lot lighter. Everyone stands to pack their things, and as I get ready to leave, Molly approaches me again.  

“Thanks for coming today, Christi,” she tells me. “I hope you found it to be beneficial.”  

“Thank you for this,” I find myself saying. “It really helped. It’s great that you do this.”  

“I’m glad you think so,” she smiles at me. “I hope to see you again.”  

“Yeah. Thanks again, Molly.”  

We smile at each other, then I finally turn to leave the room. I never thought group therapy would go that well. It wasn’t at all what I pictured, and I actually really want to go back next week. Maybe even one day, I’ll be able to talk about Eric.  

“Christi, wait up!”  

I turn around and spot Taylor jogging to catch up to me with two other girls trailing behind. I recognize them both from the meeting a few minutes ago. They’re the other younger girls along with me and Taylor. Emily is the surfer Taylor told me about. She was abused by both her parents. I think the other girl’s name is Maya, and I remember her talking about her abusive brother. Taylor was right when she said Maya was quiet. She spoke the least out of everyone, but who am I to talk?  

“I thought you might want to meet Emily and Maya,” Taylor says. “They’re the other two teenagers in our group.”  

Both Emily and Maya smile at me.  

“Hi,” I say as the three of them stand in front of me.  

“Nice to meet you, Christi,” Emily says. “We were just headed out to lunch. Want to join us?”  

I don’t say anything for a moment. I haven’t really been out anywhere since Eric died. Will I be able to handle all those people without having a panic attack? I think about saying no but then look at their faces again and decide against it.  

“I’d love that.”  

I’ve had to take a lot of risks since Eric died. I’ve had to do a lot of things I’ve been terrified to try, force myself out of bed in the morning, and drag myself around the house to do things. But I’m starting to realize that if I don’t try, then I’m not going to get anywhere. If I don’t want to do it for myself, then I have to do it for other people. For my family. For my father and Kalene, and now for the women at group therapy. And it’s got to start with these kinds of steps.  

For the next month or so, my life turns in to a routine. I wake up to my six-a.m. alarm, calm myself down from a nightmare, then my day stars. I finish what is left of my Sophomore year with Mr. Helmer, then when September comes around, I start Junior year. A few hours later when Mr. Helmer leaves, I’m left with the rest of my day. I have voice lessons with Penny Monday evening, therapy with Dr. Charm every Tuesday and Thursday, then group therapy at the church every Saturday. It’s the same thing every week, but I don’t mind.  

In the free time I have where I don’t go anywhere, I practice the four hobbies I have. I write random phrases, I sing, I play piano, and I bake. Sometimes, those are the only things I have that keep me going. On the days I fight with my father or my sister, on the nights where I can’t sleep and it feels like the world is coming to an end, I find something to do.  

I rotate between those four things on the nights where I’m having a crisis. One night I’ll write until the morning finally comes, the next I’ll look over the things Penny gave me to work on, then it’s playing the piano in Kalene’s room, and sometimes I’ll bake dozens of cookies or cupcakes.  

Kalene still visits me as often as she can, even though she’s as busy as ever with her first leg of touring coming up. We call and text all the time, but sometimes it’s hard without her. That is one of the things I cry and freak out about at night when my head is spiraling. I cry simply because I miss her, and selfishly, I wish she would be here with me. Those nights are the worst, the nights of loneliness and guilt where I can’t seem to shut my mind off.  

The guilt is the worst. It still rocks at my insides, reminding me that I’ll never be the same person all because of my stupid mistakes. It’s the guilt that reminds me I dated a psychopath who I couldn’t save from going down the dark road. What did I turn Eric into? A crazy person who kept a journal and wrote down every time he abused his girlfriend.  

The women at group therapy are the only ones that understand. When I finally get the courage to talk about it one day in early October, they sit and listen, they empathize with me, and they give me advice and guidance on how to continue living my life.  

I’ve learned that all people will tell me the same thing when I talk about Eric. It’s not my fault. I hear the phrase countless times, but it never sticks. I need to put the fault on someone, and the only person I could possibly blame is myself. It tears me apart. I know it does. But still, I don’t know what else to do.  

I go through the motions of life with absolutely no purpose. The longer the world moves without Eric, the worse I feel. It only worsens my state because I know I’m moving in the wrong direction. The only reason I get up now is because of my father and sister. The only reason I do what I do is for their benefit, so they can know that maybe my life isn’t completely gone. But it is. All I’m doing now is watching life move past me through a thick sheet of glass. I’m disconnected, just like my mother was to my family before she left. When I write those random phrases, that’s the topic of most of them. How I feel like I’m not doing enough for my family, how maybe I’m not trying hard enough to fix things.  

Writing becomes one of the most frequent things I do. I find that the worst I’m doing, the better I’m writing. It doesn’t make sense, but maybe it does. Multiple times now has Kalene’s comments about turning them into songs come to the front of my mind. Maybe I should try it. Not to be a songwriter, but just something to be therapeutic. I already love writing them; maybe it’ll be more fun to turn it into music. I mean, I’m already on that path. Look at me, I sing, I play piano, and I write. Might as well put it together.  

I just have no idea where to start. I guess I could ask Kalene, but she would just freak out and make a big deal out of it. Penny might be able to help me too, but I have no idea what experience she has with songwriting. Towards the end of October, after weeks of contemplating, I decide to try it myself. I sit down at Kalene’s piano one afternoon, and for hours, I write and play piano. I’m surprised at how naturally it comes. I have no idea if the song I write is good or bad, if it even makes sense, or if I did it right, but I’m pretty impressed with how it turned out for my first time. I find myself loving the whole process. Never did I think that this was something I would be doing, but lately I’ve been doing things I never thought I would do.  

Now, instead of writing phrases, I write songs. I get tempted at times to ask my sister for advice or her opinion on what I’m writing, but I chicken out every time. I don’t want a reaction that makes her laugh at me or say I’m terrible, but I also don’t want a reaction where she goes crazy and gets set on making me a prodigy.  

The only people I tell about my small hobby for writing music are Taylor, Maya, and Emily. They’ve become closer and closer friends of mine the longer I hang out with them. After group therapy on Saturdays, we’ve taken to doing something together afterwards. I’ve never had close friends like them, and I’m grateful that these are the girls I found, girls that really understand me. The only time we ever talk about anything deep is at group therapy, so during our hangouts, it’s just mindless chatter. While I still don’t like leaving the house, I don’t mind going places with them. Sometimes it’s out to eat, others it’s to someone’s house, or occasionally we go out to get our nails done.  

Sometimes I wish I could be more for them. I wish I could get myself to laugh at Taylor’s jokes, smile at Emily’s wild surfing stories, or giggle when Maya acts shy. But I just can’t do it. I know they understand, and I know they have things they struggle with just like I do. I just want to be a normal teenage girl that loves hanging out with her friends, but sometimes I have to convince myself that hanging out with them is more important than hiding in my room.  

The best thing about my new friends is just like Mr. Helmer, they don’t care that my sister is Kalene Rodgers. Any person I had a chance with as a friend mostly did it because my sister was popular and cool. Not them, though. I was a little nervous when I first brought it up, but they didn’t seem to think it was that big of a deal.  

“That’s cool,” Taylor said simply. “What’s that like for you?”  

I was a bit taken aback by her question. No one has ever really asked me that before. It was always something about how lucky I was or how awesome it must be.  

“It doesn’t really affect me, I guess,” I answered truthfully. “She keeps me away from all that. It’s nice.”  

“That’s nice of her,” Maya smiled thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to have my life plastered everywhere.”  

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Thank God that didn’t happen to me.”  

I never stopped to think what it would be like if I was never left out of Eric’s suicide. It would have been a disaster. Even if my sister wasn’t famous, I still get the feeling I would have been blown all over the news.  

“That would be terrible,” Maya says quietly.  

When I ask Taylor, Maya, and Emily about confronting Kalene for songwriting help, they suggest discretely bringing it up so she doesn’t think I’m interested.  

“That’s how I asked my older brother about surfing,” Emily tells me. “I didn’t think he would want me to try it since it was always his thing. So instead, I started asking him questions about it whenever we went to the beach together. He told me everything I needed to know, then I taught myself.”  

“Does he know you surf now?” I ask.  

“Of course he does,” she says. “I couldn’t hide it forever. I had to ask for my own board at some point instead of using his old one.”  

“And how did he react?”  

“He was chill about it. Not the reaction I expected. My brother is the type of person who likes things to himself. My old parents reinforced that. They never abused him.”  

“Gee, Em, that turned dark real fast,” Taylor says to fill the suddenly silent room.  

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”  

I know Emily is not bitter about her brother being the child that wasn’t hit and beat up. She’s said so in group therapy. She doesn’t blame him for what happened to her, and she never has. But still, it can’t be easy being ridiculed like that by your own parents, the people that are supposed to love you more than anything.  

“Really, I didn’t mean to make the mood so sour,” Emily says seriously. “I’m moving past it. I love living with my aunt and uncle. Anyways, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah. The point of me telling you that, Christi, was maybe Kalene won’t react the way you expect her to. My brother didn’t.”  

“You don’t know my sister,” I say with a shake of my head. “She’s very . . . Kalene. She’s never been anyone else, never showed anything out of character like your brother. She’s going to be brutally honest, and she’s going to go crazy.”  

“Suit yourself,” Emily shrugs. “I think you should do what I did. If you catch her writing, just ask her about how she does it.”  

“She comes home in a few weeks for Thanksgiving,” I remember. “I can ask her then. She almost always writes when she’s home.”  

“Great idea,” Emily says and reaches over to high-five me. “Let us know how it goes.”  

The remaining two weeks before Thanksgiving break, I try to come up with a way to bring up songwriting to my sister. I guess I could just flat out ask her, but I feel like she’d get suspicious. I have to do it in a sneaky way so she doesn’t suspect anything. Kalene always knows when I’m lying, and she almost always knows when I’m hiding something. If I freak out and look guilty, she’s going to figure it out.  

If I mentioned it to anyone else, they’d probably laugh at how stupid I’m being. I mean, seriously. I shouldn’t be scared to ask Kalene. Why am I so afraid of the possibility of trying something new? Maybe because in some past experiences, new experiences haven’t always worked out.  

Kalene comes home for her break just a few days before Thanksgiving. We typically are the ones that host Thanksgiving at our house, so my father, Kalene and I, spend a lot of time getting the house ready for the rest of our family. That means no time for Kalene to sit down at write. I follow her around the entire time, but she’s always cleaning or doing other things around the house.  

When the first day she’s home comes to an end, I’m in a sour mood. There’s no way I can do this. Why do I even care so much? I’m not even that into this whole songwriting thing that much. Or maybe I am.  

“Can I ask you girls something?” my father’s voice asks, and I look up from where I was intently staring down at my food.  

“Go for it,” Kalene chirps enthusiastically. I watch my father rub his beard, and I immediately know this is something serious. He only rubs his beard when he’s nervous or deep in thought.  

“Hey, Dad,” I say as I wander into my father’s study. “The door to my room is squeaking again. Can you come check it out?”  

He doesn’t look up at me, too focused on the pile of papers in front of him. I just stand there and watch him for a moment like he’s going to acknowledge me. His hand is rubbing his beard, and his eyes are so focused I wouldn’t’ be surprised if he burned a hole through the papers he’s looking at.  

“Dad,” I say again, and he jumps slightly before finally looking at me.  

He looks older than I’ve ever seen him. His entire face looks sagged, the lines on his face are stretched and clearly visible, and his eyes look tired.  

“Hi, flower,” he smiles weakly. It’s not the smile he normally gives me. This one looks forced.  

“Whatcha working on?” I ask as I wander over to him. He stretches back in his chair, and I sit down on his lap just like I used to as a little kid. He puts an arm around my waist and forces another smile.  

“Divorce papers.”  

“Oh.”  

There’s a long silence where I’m not sure what I should say.  

“Did you need something?” my father says eventually.  

“What? Oh, no, I’m good. Just came to check on you.”  

He nods distantly as I stand, then I walk out of his study without another word.  

I stare at my father and wait for him to say something as he continues to anxiously rub his beard. Kalene knows something is up too, because I feel her tense up beside me and lean forward to listen attentively. I decide to take a bite of my salad and patiently wait for him to say something.  

“How would you girls feel if I started dating again?”  

I choke on my bite of salad, and it takes a minute for my sister to realize that I’m choking before she starts pounding on my back.  

“What?” I nearly yell once my salad has successfully gone down my throat. It must come out rather aggressive because my father gets a nervous look on his face and shrinks back in his seat.  

“Nothing, nothing, forget I said anything.”  

“No, no!” I quickly say. I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just . . . surprised.”  

Things suddenly turn awkward. Now it’s my turn to shrink back in my seat as my father now seems to have no idea what to say.  

“Who’s the girl you want to ask?” Kalene replies bluntly, seemingly completely unphased by our father’s question.  

I stare at him in complete disbelief when he perks up at Kalene’s question and leans forward again.  

“A nurse I work with,” he says. “I just thought . . . I thought I’d give it a try.”  

My sister looks sideways at me to see what I think of the idea, but I can’t take my eyes off my father. I don’t really know how I feel. After all he’s been through with our mother, and then watching another bad relationship unfold with me and Eric, how can he put himself out there like that again? I can’t see myself dating anyone ever again. How is he able to do it? I’m tempted to ask, but then I think of how stupid that probably sounds. Even though he’s the only person that would have a chance at understanding how I feel, something tells me he doesn’t feel the same way I do. I mean, look at him. He’s moved on and clearly ready to put himself out there again.  

“Christi?” he asks me after a moment of silence. “Are you ok?”  

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. Good for you, Dad.”  

He doesn’t look convinced. He shouldn’t be. I’m not convinced either.  

“Are you sure, flower?” he asks. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. I know that after your mother and then—”  

“No,” I say quickly, definitely not wanting him to finish that sentence. “I’m fine. Promise. Go for it.”  

My father shouldn’t stop living his life just because I’m scared. But I can’t help the protectiveness I’m feeling. What if he gets hurt again just like he did with his previous wife? What if something like Eric happens again? What if—  

“Ok then,” my father smiles. “She’s a nurse I work with at the hospital.”  

“Good luck, Dad,” Kalene says, still sounding completely unbothered. But my sister can hide that kind of stuff. I’ll ask her about it later.  

“I just wanted to make sure you girls were ok with it,” he continues. “It’s just as much your decision as it is mine.”  

I nod, and Kalene gives him a bright smile.  

I try not to be quiet the rest of dinner, but I can’t help it. I’m thinking so much, and my brain is working so intensely I’m starting to get a headache. I can’t work out how I feel about this new confession my father made. It’s strange to think of him romantically involved with another woman. Maybe it’s just because I never really saw him in love or happy with another person to begin with. He most certainly never had it with my mother. On one hand, I’m happy that he has a chance of finding that again. On the other, I’m terrified.  

Kalene still shows no sign of emotion the rest of the night. The three of us hang out and watch some TV before bedtime, and she acts normal the entire time. I really wish I could read minds because she’s got to be thinking something.  

When I go up to my bedroom later that night, I get dressed in pajamas then wait until I hear the door to my father’s room close until I creep down the hall to my sister’s room. Her light is still on, and I can hear her quiet humming as she moves around her room. Before I knock, I just stand outside the door and listen. For moment, it’s like she never left us. I can picture those days in my head, a distant memory, where her beautiful voice swept through the house and never failed to make me smile. It’s quiet without her around, and I miss the volume she brought to the trio of my father, her, and me. More recently, I’ve really wanted those days back.  

“Come in,” she calls a second after I knock on her door.  

I nervously grip my hands together and place them in front of me, then step inside her room and close the door gently behind me. She smiles at me in the mirror while she pulls her hair out of a braid.  

“Hey,” she says calmly. “Come to talk?”  

“Yeah.”  

“I figured,” she says. “I kinda want to talk about Dad too.”  

I watch, still frozen by the door as she plops down on her bed and pats the spot next to her. My legs move forward, and I somehow feel ten times better when I curl up on the bed next to her. This was our second favorite place to talk, after the window seat in my room, before she left for the Academy. I always loved her purple comforter that matches the fuzzy circle carpet and the millions of stuffed animals she still keeps from her childhood. She brought her favorite stuffed panda to the Academy, but the rest she kept here. I take a blue octopus from the pile and hold it to my chest as I lean back into the pillows with her.  

“Do you want to go first?”  

“No.”  

“Ok,” she says with a deep breath, and grabs a stuffed bear to clutch too. “I’m ok with Dad dating.”  

I swallow and stare ahead at a picture has on her dresser, one where the two of us are smiling widely. I remember the day that picture was taken. I was ten and she was twelve, and it was the day we visited Aunt Tessa and Uncle Tyler. We swam in their pool all day, and Kalene convinced me I was going to get skin cancer because I got burned so badly. My eyes shift around some more. There’s a picture with her, me, and our father, one with her and Zach, and another with some of her old friends from high school.  

“I guess I’m a little nervous,” Kalene adds, and I tear my eyes off her pictures to focus on what she’s saying. “I mean, he hasn’t had great luck with relationships in the past, and maybe that’s a little scary. But Dad knows what he’s doing. He’s got us in mind too. So, I guess I’m rooting for him. It would be nice to see him happy again.”  

“Don’t you think we make him happy?” I can’t stop myself from asking.  

“Of course we make him happy,” she says, not looking over at me when I glance at her. “But it’s a different kind of happy.”  

A kind of happy I guess I don’t understand. It’s the happy Kalene has with Zach, the kind my father maybe once had with my mother, and the kind he’ll hopefully have in the future. I’d like to think I once had that happy with Eric, but I don’t know anything about those two years I had with him. I thought I did, but I guess I don’t. I have no idea who he really was. The Eric I knew would have never kept a journal that recorded every time he abused me. Was that how my father felt with my mother? Do we have more in common than I thought?  

No, because the difference between my father and I is he’s able to pick himself up. He doesn’t let the guilt control his life whether he feels it or not. Unlike me, he’s able to start again. What I went through . . . I’ll never recover from that. I can’t trust myself with that kind of thing ever again. Look where it got me the first time. My father can’t take that again, my sister can’t take that again, and I can’t take it again.  

“I guess I’m ok with him dating too,” I say eventually after another second of silent contemplating. “It’s not that I’m afraid of having another person around. I’m just scared that it won’t work out.”  

“You can’t see yourself trusting this nurse lady,” my sister finishes for me.  

“I guess.”  

“I don’t blame you. If you don’t trust this nurse just yet, trust Dad.”  

I never thought about it like that. While I don’t trust a lot of people these days, I do trust him. He’s not the type to be blinded like I was. He’s smarter. Wiser. More experienced. He would never do anything that would hurt him, or even more importantly, hurt his two girls.  

“Thanks, Kalene,” I say to my sister. “You always make me feel better.”  

“That’s what big sisters are for,” she smiles and pokes her stuffed bear against my blue octopus. “I’ve missed having you around to talk to. That’s the one thing I really miss at the Academy. You. And Dad too, but I miss my little sister.”  

For the first time in a long time, I smile. It hurts my face, and it doesn’t last long, but I do it anyways.  

“I’ve missed you too, Kalene,” I whisper and lean my head on her shoulder.  

Normally I don’t think she realizes how much I mean it when I tell her I miss her, but right now, I know she really feels what I’m saying. Talking with her, getting her advice, and even listening to her humming earlier; it really felt like things were back to normal. Mom was never a problem, our father worked a normal number of hours at the hospital, things between me and Eric were perfect, and Kalene was home. Maybe she misses that life sometimes too. Suddenly, I lift my head off her shoulder and stare ahead.  

“I write music.”  

I have no idea where that came from, but it’s too late now. The plan Taylor, Maya, and Emily helped me come up with is officially out the window, but I find myself not caring. Actually, I find myself completely calm. I’m not scared of her reaction. Maybe it’s from the deep conversation we just had and the mood it put me in, or maybe it’s the fact that I suddenly feel so much more connected to my sister. She turns her head to look at me, but her lack of response makes me think she didn’t hear me. Kalene always has a reaction, even if it’s not always what I think it is. This is definitely not how I was expecting this to go.  

“What?”  

“I write music,” I blurt out again before I lose my nerve. Now or never, I guess. “I was so determined not to do that since I know it’s what you’ve been trying to do with me, and I seriously cannot explain what the hell made me sit down and write a song but now I can’t stop and I kind of love it and—”  

“Christi,” Kalene cuts me off with a small chuckle, seemingly amused by how flustered I am. “You’re writing music?”  

“Yes,” I squeak out quietly. “The whole mixture of singing and piano and them those things I was writing must have done something to me because now I’m writing music, Kalene. Do you know how out of character that is for me? I didn’t want to tell you because writing music is your thing, and I didn’t want to take that away from you. Not that I could compare whatever it is I’m doing to the genius stuff you make—”  

“Christi,” Kalene cuts me off again.  

I finally get the courage to look over at her, and I’m wildly surprised by what I see. This is not what I was expecting. She doesn’t look angry or wildly surprised or overly excited. She just smiles at me warmly.   

“I think it’s awesome you picked it up,” she says, and I don’t sense a drop of anything I don’t want to hear. “I’m not mad at you, little sister, I’m really happy you’re enjoying it.”  

“I thought you were going to be angry or try and get me to do something crazy with it. Just . . . the last time you mentioned me trying songwriting you got kind of hyper about it.”  

She laughs loudly.  

“I guess I kind of did, didn’t I?” she says thoughtfully. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, Christi, not after the whole voice lesson fiasco where we didn’t talk for two weeks. I’ll push you to try new things, but I’m not going to be crazy controlling like I was last time. It’s not about me and what I want you to do, it’s about you and what you want to do.”  

I have no idea what to say so I just stare at her stupidly.  

“Can I look at it? Your song?”  

“I was hoping you would,” I say shyly. “I kind of just winged the whole writing thing. I guess I just want a couple pointers from a professional.”  

She grins and pinches my shoulder where her arm is still wrapped around me.  

“I’m the professional, little sister.”  I roll my eyes playfully while she laughs again.  “I’d love to help you out, Christi. Come on, let’s take a look at it.”  

I’m right about what I told Taylor, Maya, and Emily. Kalene is never someone she’s not. She never reacts differently; she never pretends to be a different person. But this was certainly unexpected. But maybe it’s not what I think it is. She isn’t a new person because that’s not my sister. I think that maybe this has always been a side to her, this side I saw tonight. Calm, listening, accepting. I don’t like to admit that I don’t know who the real Kalene really is, but I’m starting to realize that I can’t know every part of her. This was just a part I never knew. And when I see these new parts, I can’t freak out and blame myself for not knowing who she really is. I should be happy that I have another piece.  

Or maybe I’m wrong, and my sister really has changed. What I went through affected her, affected the way she treats me. Because I’ve seen it, I’ve seen that events can change people. They’ve changed me. My sister is different than she was before I went through my accident. She’s different than she was before she joined the Academy. She’s matured a lot more than I’ve realized. And I’m not afraid of that. I’m proud of her.

“So that’s what happened, I guess,” I finish, then take a sip of my strawberry smoothie.  

“You’re kidding,” Emily states as she stares at me. “You just blurted it out? Good for you.”  

“Thanks, I guess,” I shrug. “We must have sat in her room for hours just writing together. It was nice . . . having her back, I mean.”  

“And she didn’t react at all like you expected her to?” Taylor confirms, and I see a hint of a smile on her face as she chews her straw.  

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “She was totally chill about it. Definitely out of character for my sister.”  

“You could have just softened her up with that talk you guys had beforehand,” Maya points out jokingly.  

“That’s very likely.”  

“Speaking of that,” Taylor says. “You’re probably sick of people asking, but you’re seriously ok with your dad dating?”  

“I wasn’t really sure at first, but after I talked with Kalene, I felt a lot better about it,” I tell them truthfully. “I’m still scared, I guess. I mean, just look at what type of relationships the world has given my family. But then Kalene pointed out to me that if I didn’t trust this lady my dad’s planning to ask out, then I should trust him. He’s smart. He knows how to handle himself now.”  

The girls nod, and I take another sip of my smoothie. After a lot of thinking last night when I finally got to bed, I realized that my father isn’t like me at all when it comes to relationships. The reason he stayed with my mother was for the sake of me and my sister. He didn’t want to put his daughters through that. Even though it would have been easier to get the divorce over with, at least he had the right idea. Me, on the other hand, I stayed with Eric because I was stupid and desperate. This new woman my father is going to meet will be different. He’s going to make sure it won’t lead to yet another divorce. I really do trust him on that.  

“Anyways, on a much lighter note,” Taylor starts again. “How’d the writing go? Did Kalene give you some good tips?”  

“It was awesome,” I say with a nod, and a corner of my mouth turns up slightly at the thought of it. “My sister knows what she’s talking about. She gave me all sorts of advice.”  

I never did realize how talented my sister really is until she talked to me about songwriting last night. Obviously, I knew she was gifted. She has the most incredible voice ever, I’ve seen her write before, and her presence in general is amazing, but I’ve never heard her thought process through it all. She explained every single detail to me, from how she comes up to melodies to how she chooses lyrics. The way her mind works, the way it processes the world in front of her and the way it turns those thoughts into music . . . it’s incredible. It’s genius.  

I was surprised with how Kalene reacted to my own music. She seemed wildly impressed, the exact opposite of what I was expecting. I have absolutely no experience in the music world whatsoever, so I wasn’t really sure what to think of what I was making. But when Kalene looked it over and I expressed to her what I was feeling, she made me feel ten times better.  

“There’s no such thing as bad music, Christi,” she told me. “Music is just expressing how you see something. There are going to be people that agree with that, and people that don’t. I think this is incredible. Your lyrics are beautiful, and you have a mind for melodies. I’m serious. This is really good.”  

I just sat there and said nothing. Kalene isn’t the kind of person that would lie to make me feel better. She tells it how it is. Maybe I underestimated myself. Is this something I’m good at?  

“I think you should keep up with this,” Kalene said. “Why don’t you write me something and perform it for me? I haven’t heard you sing in a while. I want to hear the progress you’ve made with Penny.”  

I won’t even try to deny the fact that my sister is the last person I want to sing for. Her voice is perfect in practically every way, and she knows what she’s doing. What if I’m actually not that good, or even worse, not what she expected? Does my sister expect me to be some incredible, showstopping singer now that I’ve been taking lessons? When I tell all of this to Dr. Charm at one of our sessions, she encourages me to do it.  

“She didn’t react how you thought she would with the songwriting,” she points out. “She probably won’t react the way you think she will with the singing. And besides, she’s the one who got you the lesson in the first place. She clearly thought you had potential.”  

“But what if I’m not making the kind of progress she’s looking for?” I sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint her.”  

“Kalene doesn’t sound like the type of person who gets disappointed by that kind of thing,” Dr. Charm tries to convince me. “I say do it.”  

I know that she’s right. What am I thinking? Kalene would never tell me I was horrible, right? But she wouldn’t lie to me either. God, I’m probably overthinking this like I do everything else. But I can’t help it. Whether I want to admit it or not, this whole singing and songwriting thing is turning into something I’m passionate about. I can’t help it if I don’t want it to go to waste. I want to be good at it. I want to turn it into something more than this thing I’m nervous to try. I never thought I’d say this, but I want it to be a hobby. To me, if I’m not good at it, then it’s worth nothing.  

I try to forget about the whole thing when I leave Taylor’s house a few hours later. I don’t want to spend the rest of the time I have with my sister agonizing over what she thinks of me, and I don’t want to spend it freaking out over something that probably doesn’t require freaking out. So instead, I try to focus on other things.  

My father looks happier than he has in a long time after he told Kalene and I about wanting to ask out the nurse he works with. He sings loudly with Kalene as they finish last minute cleaning Thanksgiving morning, and he laughs at just about every single thing that could be considered funny. It’s strange to see him like this, but I love it.  

I haven’t seen my entire family together since Kalene’s end of year concert, and I barely even remember that day. I forgot how loud they are. The second everyone is together; I immediately get worked up from the sudden amount of people. It’s too overwhelming. My cousins screaming and laughing as they run around the house, the loud chatter of my father and my aunts and uncles, the booming laugh of Grandpa Jack, the snappy comments of Grandma Irene. I used to love hearing them like this. I loved their loudness. But now, I can’t stand it. It’s too loud. It’s too much.  

I break away from the loud conversation of the kitchen and run upstairs to my room without anyone noticing. I’ll just take a second to take a breath. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.  

I press my back against the door once I’m safely inside my room and slide to the ground. Desperately trying to take deep breaths like Dr. Charm showed me, I pull my knees to my chest and let a few tears fall down my face. This is so stupid. What is wrong with me? It’s just my family, why am I freaking out? I bury my face in my knees and try to stop my crying.  

“Christi,” my sister’s voice comes from the other side of the door as she knocks lightly, “are you in there?”  

I squeeze my eyes shut, and my lip starts to tremor as I pull my face out of my knees. “Yeah,” I choke out, trying my hardest to sound like I haven’t been crying. “Yeah, I’m here. I’ll be right out.”  

“Ok,” she responds. “Are you ok?”  

“Yeah,” I lie and close my eyes as my head rests back on the door. “Yeah, I’m ok. Be out in a sec.”  

“Alright,” she says, and I listen to her footsteps as they echo down the hallway and back downstairs. Please don’t leave.  

I take another deep breath and run my fingers through my hair. I just need to think of something else. I have my voice lesson on Monday. I have a song I need to write for Kalene. I’ve almost mastered my own homemade chocolate cake recipe.  

I try to plant my arms on the ground to force myself up, but my legs loose use and I fall back to the ground. That happens sometimes. Ever since I lost my ability to walk for nearly two months after I woke up from my coma, I still have issues with my legs. They fall asleep sometimes, and I can never really walk for long.  

I huff angerly and cross my arms as I glare down at my legs. This is so stupid. I’m so broken. My legs, my head, everything. I’m sick of this. In another attempt, I push myself up again only to fall back to the ground. I furiously swipe at a stack of sheet music for piano I have stacked in the corner and watch it scatter all over my carpet. Crossing my arms tightly, I stare at the music. My eyes land on a song, and I try my hardest to hear it in my head. It’s a song Kalene lent me so I can keep practicing. Staring at it takes me to those times I sit on my piano bench and just play. Not a care in the world, just my music. I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a moment, and lean my head back on the door. Suddenly, I don’t feel so angry anymore. Just me. I don’t feel it often, but when I do, I try to hold on to it for as long as I can. The moment it fades, I finally pull myself back to my feet.  

Dr. Charm would tell me to be patient with myself, to let my mind heal. It’s not an overnight process, she says. I really wish it could be. I’ve never so badly wanted things to go back to normal, especially now with my family here. I just want to go back to the person I was when I lived like a normal person. When I loved the loudness of my family. I guess this is just how things are now. I can’t let them see that.  

When I make it back downstairs, Kalene gives me a look across the room to silently ask if I’m ok, and I give her a small nod. I don’t feel ok. Around all these people, suffocated in their presence, I’ve never felt more trapped. Even worse, I’ve never felt more alone. No one can see what’s happening to me behind this mask that I’m putting on. Something inside of me says it’s for their own good. Another part prods to let my guard down.  

I’m decently quiet the rest of the day my family is here, not wanting to add to the already loud noise of their voices. It’s ok, though. I don’t have another panic attack. Instead, I sit quietly in the living room after the turkey dinner is over and think. I find that thinking is easier than the whole thought that I’m in a room of screaming people.  

I notice a lot more about my family now that I’m doing less talking and more observing. No one really seems to want to talk to me except my grandmother, and I don’t blame them. After my accident, they’ve started to treat me like a china doll. My cousins seem rather afraid of me, like I’m going to start having a wild, crazy episode at any moment. Both pairs of aunts and uncles look at me like I’m a ticking bomb, and my grandfather keeps glancing over at me like I’m socially impaired. My grandmother, who is already used to being with me since she still comes over when my father works late, is the only one that tries to have a conversation with me. The lack of my family does make me feel sad and even a little stupid, but I don’t really care that much. I don’t feel like talking to anyone anyways.  

I can tell the whole thing is pissing Kalene off. She tries to bring me in to the conversation more than once, but I find a way to slink back in the shadows. She practically drags my cousin Katie over to me so I can see the new dress she’s been telling everyone about. It’s clear that she’s been trying hard to stay calm all night, but when Aunt Jenna timidly asks if I want another slice of pie, her eyes flash angerly.  

“What, are you afraid she’s going to blow up if you get close to her?” Kalene snarls as Aunt Jenna quickly takes my plate to bring back to the kitchen after I said no to more pie.  

“Kalene,” my father says sternly, but he doesn’t look at all sorry that his sister is getting told off.  

“I swear to God, it’s like you’re expecting her to drop dead,” she yells, completely ignoring the stunned faces and our father’s previous warning. “Have any of you given her a hug hello?” Everyone’s eyes suddenly land on me, and I feel my cheeks turn a light pink.  

“Well said, Kalene” Grandma Irene barks as she gives my leg a rough pat. My grandmother has clearly shown no hesitation when it comes to interacting with me. “That’s my girl. Nice and feisty. Well, aren’t you fools going to apologize?”  

Everyone exchanges a look, Emilia bursts into tears, and I let out a long sigh as I fall back into the couch.  

“It’s ok, Grandma,” I murmur quietly as Aunt Tessa tires to calm down her daughter. “I really don’t care.”  

“Shame!” my grandmother roars. “Complete shame! This girl nearly died and you bunch are sitting there like a bunch of clueless baboons.”  

“We really don’t need to—”  

“No,” Kalene cuts me off as she crosses her arms and glares icily at Uncle Rob who looks like he wants to disappear. “This is ridiculous.”  

“Would you please be quiet so I can calm Emilia down?” Aunt Tessa asks as she scoops Emilia, who is still wailing loudly, into her arms.  

Kalene must see red because she shoots from her seat and uncrosses her arms. “Would you please show some respect for my sister who almost died?” she screeches. My grandmother hoots her approval, and I wish more than anything that I could evaporate into thin air.  

“Kalene,” Uncle Rob scolds my sister. “Watch your tone.”  

“Don’t talk to my daughter like that,” my father suddenly comes in as he stands up. Peter and Linus both start crying, and Grandpa Jack quickly acts to usher my cousins out with Aunt Jenna as Uncle Rob begins a string of profanities. I let out another huff of frustration and cover my face with my hands. There’s no way this is happening. Both Kalene and my father are yelling again as Uncle Tyler and Aunt Jenna join the fight, my grandmother is occasionally barking her insane, loony comments, and I’m stuck here in the middle of it all, wishing that I could just disappear.  

My head starts to pound, and the evil thoughts are coming back. This is all my fault. Look what I’ve done to my family. I’ve torn them apart. Unable to take it anymore, I slip out of the living room, past the kitchen where Aunt Tessa and Grandpa Jack are trying to calm down my cousins, and out the door to my car.  

I shut the door, lean back in the driver’s seat, and run my hands over my face. My head is still pounding, but at least it’s quiet here. No more yelling. I briefly think about going somewhere, but there’s not really anywhere I can go besides the park, and I don’t feel like going there tonight. Really, I just want someone to talk to. I reach next to me and grab my phone to shuffle through my contacts. I don’t really want to bother anyone since it’s Thanksgiving, but I decide to text Taylor anyway.  

Hey, I type, then turn off my phone and close my eyes for a moment. She responds quicker than I expected.  

What’s up?  

I stare at her message for a moment, not sure what to say.  

Not having a great night.  

Me neither. Want to come over? she replies, and I take a moment to think and chew my lip.  

Are you sure?  

Yeah, my parents are fine with it. The rest of my family left a while ago.  

Ok. I’m on my way.  

I don’t think twice as I turn on my car and pull out of the driveway. Taylor lives the farthest away from me out of her, Maya, and Emily. I’ve only been to her house once, but I loved it. It’s small and kind of far away from other buildings, but she says she loves being away from everyone else. I drive for about thirty minutes until I arrive, then park my car and walk up to the front door. I knock, then fold my hands together as I wait for someone to answer the door. Just a moment later, the door opens. Dressed in a blank tank top, unicorn pajama bottoms, and orange slippers, Taylor beams as when we make eye contact.  

“Hey.”  

“Hey,” I say back. “Love the PJs.”  

“Thanks,” she grins as she looks down at the unicorns. “Come on in.”  

Both of Taylor’s parents are artists, so her house always has a distinct smell of drying paint, artwork all over the walls, and bright decorations and furniture. The first time I came here, it reminded me of Penny’s apartment. Taylor told me, Maya, and Emily that she doesn’t like to have anyone over because her parents are weird and her house smells like a factory. When I talked to her parents the first and only time I was here, they seemed lovely and excited that their daughter was having friends over. They were a little awkward, but I loved it.  

“My parents are in the living room watching Bob Ross for the hundredth time,” Taylor tells me with an eyeroll as she leads me down the hallway to her room. “We can hang out in my room. I already got us snacks and set up a movie.”  

I love Taylor’s room. It’s small, but it’s perfect. She doesn’t have an actual bed, but instead sleeps in a hammock that hangs from the ceiling. When I asked her about it, she said that it made her feel like she was in a treehouse. Her room does give off the tree house vibes. There’s a giant paper mache tree that climbs up the wall then bursts with leaves, and when I first saw it, I thought it was real. A giant bookcase takes up an entire wall, and she has a beautifully crafted dresser and desk.  

“I love your room,” I tell her again.  

“I do too,” she says. “Want to sleep over? I need a girl’s night.”  

I want to say that I’d love to, but I hesitate. The last thing I want is for Taylor to see me have one of my freaky nightmares. She’s the first real friend I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to ruin it with my stupid problems.  

“I get seriously terrible nightmares,” I find myself admitting. “And I only get four hours of sleep if I’m lucky.”  

“I get nightmares too,” she says with her back to me as she rummages in her dresser for something. “Every night. And you’re not supposed to sleep at sleepovers anyways.” I don’t say anything, and she turns around with a small smile. “Stay over. You can wear my other pair of unicorn pajamas.” She holds up a bright purple pair of PJ pants, and I can’t help it when a corner of my mouth tugs up.  

“Now I can’t say no.”  

“We’re going to have a blast,” she encourages as she tosses them to me along with an old t-shirt. “Whoever wakes up screaming first is the winner.”  

I let out some kind of choked laugh, and she smiles again.  

Once Taylor and I are in our matching pajama pants, we sit down on the beanbag and watch a movie on Taylor’s computer while eating as much junk food as she could find in her house. Kalene calls a lot later than I expected her to. We’re about halfway through our movie when my phone rings.   

“Oh great,” I grumble. “Can you pause for a second? It’s my sister.”  

“Did you not tell her you were coming over?” Taylor asks as she hits pause.  

“Not exactly,” I say. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after she’s done freaking out at me.”  

I stare at the screen for a moment and debate if it’s a good idea to just ignore her. Probably not. I let out another sigh before finally answering.  

“Where are you?” she shoots before I can even say hello.  

“I’m at sleeping over at Taylor’s house.”  

“Well thanks for telling me and Dad. We only freaked out for about ten minutes,” she shoots, sounding extremely annoyed.  

“Sorry,” I say even though I’m definitely not feeling sorry at all.  

“Are you ok?”  

“Yeah.”  

“Are you lying to me?”  

“No.”  

“Please come home. I want to talk to you.”  

“No,” I say again. “I don’t need anyone else fighting over me.”  

“Christi,” she starts, but I cut her off.  

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” I say shortly.  

“Don’t you dare hang up on m—”  

I end the call before she can finish, then sigh as I throw my phone across the room in case she tries to call me back.  

“Let me guess,” Taylor says through a mouthful of popcorn. “Family trouble?”  

“Ding-ding,” I grumble as I take a large gulp of soda.  

“It eventually goes away,” she says. “When my family first found out I was in an abusive relationship, they all looked at me like I was on the verge of death. Even my parents.”  

“Yeah,” I mumble distantly. “That’s exactly how my family was acting today when we were all together for Thanksgiving, especially considering that I did almost die. My dad and Kalene don’t really, but everyone else just . . .”  

My voice trails off, and I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat.  

“Looked at you like your life was ruined?” Taylor fills in. I nod and will myself not to cry. “I get it. Trust me.”  

“Kalene went off her rocker and started yelling at everyone to treat me like a normal person,” I explain. “I didn’t really care how they were treating me, but now that I’m thinking about it, it hurt.”  

“That’s how I saw it all,” Taylor sighs. “I saw myself as someone that was broken beyond repair, and it was a good idea for my family to stay away from me. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I was sick and tired of people treating me like dirt.”  

She pauses for a moment and takes a rough breath.  

“I wasn’t always like that,” she tells me. “Before and during the time I was abused, I let people push me around. I let myself fall to the pressure, I let myself be thrown around, and I let my life go to sh*t. But when I came out of it and picked my head up, I made a promise to myself. I was never going to let anyone control me like that again.”  

“I wish I was like that,” I say quietly. Taylor took her experiences and used them to build herself up. I took mine and let them tear me down.  

“People react differently,” she says. “I guess you could say I’m lucky. But for some people, just like you, it’s different. It’s harder to convince yourself that one day things will get better. But the things that happened to us . . . they happened for a reason. Look what it turned me into. I still have plenty of issues, and I’m still working myself out of the tunnel. One day, you’re going to find the thing that drags you out too.”  

“I guess,” I mumble. “Progress doesn’t feel like progress anymore.”  

“Like it’s all a never-ending race,” she adds, and I nod.  

“Exactly.”  

There’s a long pause, and both of us stare quietly at the still paused computer screen.  

“You said you were having a rough night too,” I say randomly, remembering what she told me in her text earlier. “What happened?”  

Taylor lets out a huff and falls back into the beanbag.  

“Mean girls from school,” she says sadly. “Those looks never go away. They give me a hard time about going to group therapy.”  

“Seriously? That’s terrible.”  

“They are terrible. You’re lucky we don’t go to the same school. Everyone’s a bitch.”  

“I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t be,” she says dismissively. “It usually doesn’t bother me. Tonight was just one of those nights, I guess.”  

“Yeah, I get that,” I say quietly. “So what happened?” 

“McKenna,” she spits her name out like venom. “Queen Mean Girl if you know what I mean. She sent out a tweet that totally dissed me.”  

“That’s horrible,” I say in disbelief. How does she handle that? How was she able to go back to school knowing that everyone was going to make her life a living hell? I wasn’t able to drag myself back to school. “She even sounds like a mean girl.”  

“Yeah, it is sort of f*cked up I guess. But like I said, I don’t let people step all over me anymore,” she shrugs as she twirls a piece of her purple hair around her finger. “We should totally toilet paper her house or something. Wouldn’t that be great? I have a million rolls of TP and I might even have some silly string.” She suddenly looks at me excitedly.  

“Wait, you’re serious?”  

“Yeah,” she exclaims and shoots up from her seat. “This’ll be awesome! We can go in our unicorn pajamas.”  

I stare at her as she runs around her room. This does not sound like my idea of fun.  

“Come on, Christi, it’ll be awesome. Pretty please?”  

“Ok fine,” I say against my better judgement and shake my head at her pouty face. “But if we get caught, you’re paying the bail to get me out of jail.”  

“Deal!” she yells. “Come on, we have to plan it out. We’ll have to go super late at night when she’s sleeping so we don’t get caught.”  

I’m already feeling nervous as Taylor comes up with her elaborate plan to toilet paper and silly string McKenna’s house. By the time she finishes planning and we watch the rest of the movie, it’s almost two a.m. After making sure her parents are sound asleep, Taylor drags me out of the house to load up her mom’s minivan with toilet paper and silly string. This is by far the craziest thing I’ve ever done.  

My heart is racing frantically as Taylor drives a few neighborhoods over to where McKenna lives. She keeps giggling excitedly, but I’m gripping the side door in a panic. What if we get caught? My dad would kill me if he had to come pick me up from jail. I don’t even want to think about what my sister would say.  

“That’s the one,” Taylor whispers as she points to a large house on the corner of the street. “I’ll park over here. Grab as much toilet paper and silly string as you can.”  

Taylor seems completely calm, but I’m a nervous wreck as I follow her through the darkness with as much toilet paper and silly string as I can carry. Has she done this kind of thing before?  

“You do those two trees, and I’ll do these two,” she whispers to me once we’re finally in the front yard. “Quick. I don’t know how much time we have.”  

I stare after her in complete shock as she starts throwing toilet paper anywhere she can reach. Oh my God, this is absolutely insane.  

My trees don’t look as impressive as Taylor’s, but something tells me she’s done this before. By the time we’re out of supplies, McKenna’s front yard looks insane. Toilet paper is all over the grass, shrubs, and trees, and silly string runs across the yard like a unicorn puked all over the place.  

“This is great,” Taylor whispers excitedly. I smile the slightest bit. I have to admit, this does look kind of awesome. “We kind of crushed this, didn’t we?” she continues. “Just wait till McKenna sees it in the morning.” She throws her arm around my shoulder, and both of us smile, dressed in our matching unicorn pajamas as we stare at the disaster of McKenna’s yard.

“I guess what we’re trying to say,” Uncle Rob sighs as he looks around at the rest of my family, “is that we’re sorry, Christi. All of us, even the little cousins. We’ve been treating you terribly ever since your accident, and it’s only making things worse for you. We’re your family, and we haven’t been acting like it.”  

“It’s ok, really,” I try to say.  

“No, it’s not,” Aunt Tessa comes in. “We’ve been . . . terrible.”  

I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. It only took three days from the Thanksgiving fight for my family to come apologize, which is a little surprising. I thought they would be more stubborn than that. After I talked with Taylor at her house, I haven’t been as upset about my family. I knew they would get over it eventually just like Taylor’s family did.

I honestly still don’t blame them at all for they how they acted. It’s not like they were doing it to hurt my feelings. They were just doing it because they didn’t know what else to do. If it were one of my cousins and not me, I’m sure I would have done the same thing. It’s natural. But someone, my sister and my father I’m guessing, must have said something to one of them and explained what they were doing.  

Kalene is still a little angry, but I’m sure it will wear off. After I hung up on her the other night at Taylor’s house, she was an even more foul mood for the next few days. You can’t just wander off without telling someone, Christi. We’re trying to help you, Christi. It’s going to take my sister quite some time to realize that she can’t always be the one that helps me. I’m kind of grateful she couldn’t come to this little family meeting today, so she doesn’t start yelling about who knows what.  

“It’s ok,” I quietly tell my family because I don’t really have anything else to say.  

Everyone shares a look, and I get the feeling they don’t think they deserve the apology. I don’t care though. I just want this to be over so we can all move on. That’s another piece of advice Taylor gave me during our sleepover. It’s easier to forgive. I was never really angry in the first place, but I’m willing to say sorry if it makes them feel better.  

The fiasco with my family dies down eventually, and Kalene’s rough attitude and sourness towards them goes away. Instead, she seems more focused on the song that I’m writing and preparing to sing for her. I’ve noticed a change in her attitude when it comes to my singing, and I think our fight about the voice lesson and then our conversation where I confessed my songwriting to her changed that. She’s not as intense and pushy as she used to be. In fact, she only occasionally asks about it when we’re lacking conversation.  

I’ve definitely been working on it. For hours each day, for moments in the night where I’m struggling, and when I’m zoning out in the middle of the day and need something to distract me. When my father hears word on the whole thing, he gets excited too. Really, I just think he’s happy that I’ve found something I’m starting to love again. I could have told him I have a passion for wrestling, and he would encourage it.  

Speaking of my father, he finally asked the nurse out on a date sometime in early December. The day he came home with a smile on his face so big it looked painful; I knew he’d finally done it. I haven’t seen him this excited for something since Kalene got her acceptance letter to the Academy. He’s in another series of great moods like he was on Thanksgiving break, loud, happy, and excited. It’s a little strange at first, like the roles are reversed. He’s the excited teenager telling me about his first date while I’m the parent that’s listening. Once I get over the weird part of it, I’m really happy for him. When the number of bad days for me starts to slowly increase now that it’s winter, he somehow makes me smile.  

Even though I live in Malibu where it doesn’t get cold, the increasing amount of rain puts me in a foul mood. Dr. Charm tells me lots of people are like this in the winter months when the rain starts, but it doesn’t make me feel better. For some reason, Eric is in my head more than usual. For some reason, the hopeless comes back in full force. For some reason, the guilt even more unbearable.  

When December turns into January, things get even harder. The depression is worse than ever, to the point where I have to take days off of my voice lessons because I don’t want to leave the house, and days where I lie to Taylor, Maya, and Emily so I can just go home. Molly is the one who keeps convincing me to come to group therapy. The only thing that really keeps me going is the songwriting. I’ve spent so much time on the one I’m writing for Kalene because I want it to be perfect, but it’s almost finally ready perform.  

It took me a while to decide what I even wanted to sing about. I didn’t really want to sing about something depressing since that’s the only thing I’ve been writing about, and I know it might cause some panic in my sister. So I decided to try something new. It’s lighter and happier, definitely not what I’m used to, but I know it will make her feel better. She knows I’ve been having a hard time recently. Maybe this will convince her that I’m perfectly fine. The more I get into the harder, longer days, the harder it is to write and work on something happy. But I find that the happiness I’m creating is some of the only joy I have right now. It’s keeping me from completely losing it.  

Finally, a few days or so into January, it’s ready. When Kalene comes home for her free period one afternoon, I sit down at her piano and perform for her. She’s quiet and listening the whole time. Any nerves I was feeling fly away easily the second I start, and once I get to the chorus, I forget that there’s another person watching. When I finish, I take a moment to think. There are still a few things I would change. Should I have waited longer and tweaked it more?  

“I need to change the second verse,” I blurt out randomly. I don’t want to look at her face in case she’s reacting how I fear. “I don’t like some of these lyrics.”  

“That was incredible, Christi.”  

My heart gives a leap of hope and I turn my head nervously to look at her. I almost jump back in surprise when I see how intently she’s staring at me. I’ve never seen that look on her face before. It’s a strange mixture of surprise, amazement, and pride. Wait, is she crying? Oh my God, she’s crying.  

“Kalene,” I start frantically, afraid that I did something to upset her.  

“Just . . . don’t talk for a second,” she cuts me off, and I fall into a terrible silence. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, then stares at me again. “That was beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like that.”  

I stare back at her in complete shock.  

“It was everything, Christi. Your presence, your writing, and oh my God, your voice. Your voice is amazing. I’ve never heard anyone with a voice like yours. You can sing, little sister. I’m serious. It was perfect. Like good-enough-to-be-a-Major perfect.”  

“You liked it?”  

“Liked it?” she exclaims. “I loved it!” I let out a breath of relief. “I had no idea you could sing that high. That was amazing. I don’t think any of the Majors can control of notes like that. Not even Maria-the-Cow!”  

“Who?”  

“I never said that. I can’t imagine what your voice is going to be like with a few more months if you continue with Penny. You’ve made amazing progress with her.”  

“Thanks, Kalene,” I say shyly. This is a better reaction than I expected.  

“You’re welcome, little sister,” she beams. “You’re really talented. I think you could go somewhere with this.”  

Yet again, I have no idea what to say. I never really thought about that. I haven’t been thinking into the future, I’ve just been taking it one day at a time. Maybe it’s just because I can’t see myself going anywhere in life except my room.  

“I would love it if you wrote something else for me,” my sister encourages. “I think you should use your upper register more. I don’t think you’ve unlocked your full potential there. Keep experimenting.”  

I stare down at the piano as she stands and pats my head affectionately.  

“Well, I’m going back to school,” she says. “You could be there one day with me, little sister!”  

~0o0~ 

I sit at the kitchen table and drum my fingers nervously against the table. My father continues to stir the sauce on the stove, and Kalene is pacing the room anxiously. It’s the night we’ve all been waiting for, the night where my father’s nurse is coming over to meet me and my sister. He hasn’t told us anything about her, not even her name. I can tell he’s anxious and a little nervous, but he seems excited that we finally get to meet her. They’ve continuously gone out after he asked her out back in December, and it’s now mid-January.  

At exactly 6:00, the doorbell finally rings. I still my drumming fingers, Kalene stops her pacing, and my father turns down the heat on the stove so he can answer the door. I try to give him an encouraging smile, but it comes out tight and forced. Once he’s out the kitchen, Kalene catches my eye.  

“Let’s try to keep an open mind, ok?” she whispers. “Both of us.”  

I give her a tight nod as we both hear the door open. There’s a sound of distant talk, then my father finally arrives back in the kitchen. My mouth falls open in shock.  

“Girls, this is—”  

“Molly?” I nearly yell, and her head immediately flies from my sister to me. Her jaw drops just like mine.  

“Christi?”  

Her face suddenly turns to panic, but I’m not sure how I feel. My father is dating Molly? Molly, who leads my group therapy? Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father’s face still. His entire expression is suddenly frozen in a whirlwind of panic. Molly and I just stare at each other.  

“You two know each other?” he barely chokes out, still glancing between us in disbelief.  

Wait a second, does my father know she was abused? He obviously doesn’t know that she’s the one who leads my group therapy, that’s for sure. I don’t know what to say or do. I just stare at Molly, trying to communicate with my eyes what I’m thinking. Does he know?  

“I lead her group therapy,” Molly eventually squeaks out. Her voice is still surprisingly calm. “Your, um, your dad knows I was in an abusive relationship.”  

“Oh.”  

We continue to just stare at each other, and a sudden deadly silence falls over everyone. My father seems like he’s at a loss for words, Molly looks rather conflicted, and I’m not sure what to do.  

“Small world,” Kalene hums awkwardly from the corner. I shoot her a look and she shrugs hopelessly.  

“Is this ok, Christi?” Molly asks me. “Is it ok that I’m here? I can leave if—”  

“No,” I interrupt her quickly. “No, it’s fine. Sorry, I’m just . . . surprised.” She gives me a kind smile and grabs her purse tightly.  

“Have a seat, have a seat,” my father says, his voice back to a semi-normal tone. “Dinner’s almost ready.”  

The second Molly sits down at the table, we meet eyes again. I give her a small nod and she smiles again, this one not as tight and forced. I try to tell her with my eyes that it’s ok that she’s here. She seems utterly relived.  

Dinner is a little awkward at first since everyone still seems to be in shock, but it wears off the second Kalene and my father both start telling jokes that make Molly laugh so hard her face turns red. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s usually relatively calm and put together at group therapy. Even when someone’s telling their story or she’s telling her own, she looks quiet and at peace. Here, though, she looks really happy.  

Things aren’t as weird as I thought they’d be. If anything, they’re even better than I thought they would be. It calms me to know that my father chose Molly, someone I know and already trust with my life. Someone a little bit like me. She knows my worst moments already, and I know hers. Somehow, that’s not uncomfortable. It’s something I never would have had with another woman.  

Once dinner is over, the four of us move to the living room to play games my sister picked out. Another thing, Molly is yet another person that doesn’t seem phased by my celebrity sister. Just like Mr. Helmer, she treats her normally. I never mentioned who my sister was to anyone at group therapy besides Taylor, Maya, and Emily, so it would make sense that she didn’t know I was part of this family. I’m sure my father told her about Kalene, and Molly never put two and two together even if he did mention my name. It’s a little amusing now that I think about it.  

The more Molly is here, the more I love having her. There’s a lot to her besides the person she is at group therapy. She knits, has twelve nieces and nephews, and owns a small cat named Pepper. She’s a lot brighter and happier now that she’s not in the basement of the church, surrounded by bunches of sad stories. She’s happy.  

My father seems relieved that both Kalene and I are comfortable with Molly. The more time we spend together that night, the more relaxed he gets. The more Kalene makes conversation and the more responsive I get, the happier he seems. It doesn’t feel weird at all to see my father with another woman. I was preparing myself for the strangeness of it all, but it’s not like that. It could just be the fact that it’s Molly, but I don’t know. In a weird way, it feels like things have always been like this. She’s always been here. When she leaves later that night, I’m happy with how things went.  

“I really liked her,” Kalene declares as soon as Molly is gone and her, my father, and I are back in the living room together.  

“You did?” my father asks nervously. I don’t blame him. Kalene is hard to please.  

“Yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “She was nice. Sweet. You two complement each other.”  

He smiles at her gratefully, then finally turns to me. “Christi? What did you think?”  

“I’m cool with it, Dad,” I smile truthfully. “I really like Molly.”  

“It’s not . . . uncomfortable for you?”  

“No,” I shrug. “If anything, it makes me feel better that I know her.”  

It’s true. I could use someone like Molly in my life, not just as a mentor from group therapy. She’s grounded, she’s always calm, and she gives incredible advice. I’m already hoping that her and my father’s relationship works out.  

And the more I see her outside of group therapy, the more I admire her. Sometimes it’s with my father and Kalene, but when February rolls around and they’re still together, we start to go out to lunch together after group therapy. She becomes a bright spot in my day. She knows what I’m going through when I have a bad day, she’s someone I talk to along with Dr. Charm about my problems, and she cares about me more than my real mother ever did. I tell Taylor, Maya, and Emily about my father’s new relationship, and they were all surprised when I tell them Molly is the woman my father asked out.  

“Get out!” Taylor yells. “That’s so crazy. What’s it like.”  

“It’s fine,” I said with an amused shake of my head. 

“And that’s not weird or anything?” Maya asks. She’s about the hundredth person that’s done so.  

“Nope. Not weird. You think it would be, but things are just normal.”  

It’s true. Just like the first time I saw her with my father, nothing is out of place. She belongs with our little family, and it surprises me how quickly I was able to admit that to myself. After everything that’s happened, after all the relationship mess I’ve been through, this is one thing I’m sure about.  

With Molly now a greater part of my life, the middle of the winter months is a little less terrible. I have someone to talk about the winter depression instead of just Dr. Charm. It doesn’t mean things aren’t still hard though. The nightmares don’t stop. If anything, they worsen. The lack of wanting to go anywhere doesn’t stop either. Kalene pressing me to continue writing songs for her keeps me motivated, and Molly’s comforting talks occasionally put me in a better mood.  

Nights where I lie in bed thinking take me to that world of jumbled good and bad moments. It’s easier to focus on the bad things, and boy is that the truth. Half the time, I do. But other times, when I’m lucky, and I can’t help but thinking, maybe I have made a little bit of progress.  

My insides roar with frustration as I stomp out of the house into the mid-April air. Everyone needs to stop trying to help me. It’s not fair. No one understands, no one gets what I’m going through. I’m alone. All it does it hurt more when people try to talk. It just brings back the memories, and I can’t handle it.  

My car is one of the places I still like to go and cool off, mostly because it’s out of the house and far away from everyone. Sometimes I’ll drive around, sometimes I go back to the park, or sometimes I stay in the driveway. Today is one of the days where I don’t move. I just sit in the front seat and stare back at my house.  

I pull my legs to my chest and hug them tightly. I wish I could feel something. Feel a little bit of light, something other than the anger and sadness. The guilt. It’s been almost a year since Eric died, and I still get the pit in my stomach, the dead weight that drags me down and down and down. I’m so tired of looking up from the bottom of my endless tunnel and seeing nothing. No way out, no possible chance that one day, I’ll just turn back to the person I was before Eric. But who was I even then? His toy, a girl with nothing but him, someone who did nothing but live life for this boy that never even cared for her. What does that make me? Worthless. Nothing more than someone’s prop. A side piece that led to their death.  

I watch shadows of the sky race across the windshield, continuing to pass by without me. They move on and here I am, my entire life on hold. Whenever I feel like I’m starting to move again, I’m just thrown back to the ground. Is this how Eric felt before he died? Hopeless, depressed, that feeling that nothing in your life will never be the same ever again? The clenching chest, the permanent stone expression that won’t go away? I think about that every day now.  

I jump suddenly when the passenger door opens, and in plops in none other than Mr. Helmer. I stare at him as he wipes his sweaty forehead and heaves himself into the seat, his binder with all of my schoolwork for today still clutched underneath his arm, his face cherry red. I completely forgot he was coming today.  

“Good morning, Christi,” he pants. “Lovely morning isn’t it?”  

I still don’t move as he whips out papers from his binder and sets his briefcase at his feet. He wriggles uncomfortably in his seat and rubs his chubby hands over his face. I can still see the beads of sweat forming at his hairline.  

“Are you sure you want to have our lesson in here today?” he heaves, his large stomach bulging against his plaid suit as he breathes heavily. “It’s quite stuffy.”  

“Why don’t we go inside?” I suggest, and he nods his head frantically while seizing his things once more.  

I silently follow Mr. Helmer back up the sidewalk to the front door as he starts talking about what we’re going to be working on today. He’s still rambling as we make it back inside the house and to the small corner of the living room where we normally do our lessons.  

“We’re going to start with some English today,” Mr. Helmer says. “Have you been reading the chapters I assigned?”  

I nod and take the papers he’s passed to me.  

“Hello, Mr. Helmer.”  

Mr. Helmer and I both turn towards the sound of my sister’s voice where she stands in the doorway.  

“Hello, Kalene,” he says politely. “Home for Easter?”  

“Yep,” she tells him, then her eyes jerk to me. I look away. “I was headed to grab some coffee if you guys want anything.”  

“A black coffee would be lovely.”  

“Got it. How about you, Christi?”  

“I’m good,” I say shortly, pretending to examine the worksheets.  

She lets out a small, irritated sigh before leaving. Yet another argument between my sister and I has left us in the strange, awkward silence. Well, it wasn’t exactly an argument. It was more just me screaming at her. That’s been happening a lot this year. Recently, she’s just been letting me yell. It’s frustrating and relieving at the same time.  

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Mr. Helmer interrupts my thoughts, and I nod.  

The longer I’ve been taking lessons with Mr. Helmer, the more we’ve started talking about my future. Now that I’m taking my SAT’s this year, he’s had me set on finding a collage or career path I want to pursue. Not once in my life have I considered what I want to do in the future. Now, it seems like an even more impossible idea. I have no idea what I want to do with my life now let alone in a few years.  

“You’re an excellent baker,” Mr. Helmer has told me on multiple occasions. “That’s something you’re passionate about. Maybe you can go into the culinary arts.”  

No, I couldn’t. I only bake to take my mind off things, and I’m still at the point where I don’t leave the house to do anything besides voice lessons, to see Dr. Charm, and group therapy. Everyone has been so pushy about my future recently, and it’s been driving me crazy. It’s the reason Kalene and I had a fight this morning. It’s terrible knowing that everyone around me has their life together and knows what they want to do. I can’t even think one day in advance.  

After the morning is over and Mr. Helmer is gone, I eat my lunch quickly to avoid my sister and wander up to my room. I still have an hour left before I leave for group therapy, so I sit down on my window seat and write some more lyrics for the song I’m writing for Kalene. It’s a lot harder considering I’m still angry at her.  

After a few minutes pass with no inspiration, I toss my notebook off my lap and stare out the window instead. It’s a pleasant afternoon, the kind that brings optimism and makes you think something good is going to happen. I really wish it would. I’ve been stuck here on this window seat waiting for that moment to come to me, that one good day that will miraculously change things. I’m starting to wonder if those days are even possible anymore.  

When Kalene and I were younger, our mother and father surprised us with a trip to Disney Land as a Christmas present. It wasn’t our mother’s idea, Kalene and I both knew that, but our father tried to hide the fact that she didn’t care one bit about what she got us for Christmas. We left a few days after Christmas Day and spent five days in Disney Land. It was amazing. Incredible. Every kid’s dream. I remember that feeling it gave me, the long drive we took to get there, the excitement I felt, the magical feeling when we strolled into the park. Just a glimpse of that feeling again would mean the world to me. Just a second in my own Disney Land, a small glimpse into the future to prove to myself that things are going to be okay one day.  

“Hey, little sister,” Kalene’s voice chirps as the door to my room bangs open.  

I let out a rough sigh and resist the urge to roll my eyes. I definitely do not feel like talking to her right now.  

“Can we talk for a sec?” she asks as she walks over to me, and I quickly stand up.  

“I have group therapy.”  

“I thought it didn’t start for another hour,” she points out, but I’m already on my way out.  

“The time changed,” I lie. “Gotta go.”  

I hurry out of the house and to my car as fast as I can. The time didn’t change, and I’m going to be there at least a half an hour early, but it’s better than being in this house with my sister.  

My father would tell me I’m being childish, and it’s probably true. Kalene never did anything wrong to begin with, she just caught me at a wrong time where I was sick of people asking me what my plans for the future are. I don’t have answers to any of these questions, and it’s been putting me in a rotten mood this entire month. All she did was ask me if I had any idea what I wanted to do with my life, and I freaked out.  

“I have no idea what I want to do, Kalene,” I repeated the answer I’ve been telling everyone else since people started asking.  

“Well, maybe you should start thinking about what comes after high school,” she suggested calmly. That’s exactly what my father told me a few weeks ago. I’m sure he was the one who put her up to this.  

“I don’t want to start thinking about it,” I finally yelled. She didn’t look at all surprised by my frustration.  

“Just trying to help—”  

“Yeah, well your help hasn’t been working for the past year,” I snapped, then stormed outside to my car.  

I probably hurt her feelings, or maybe she’s finally used to my lashing out. Whatever. I’ll cool off later, apologize, then things will temporarily be back to normal between us. It’s the never-ending cycle of fighting, anger, then making up. I hope that one day, things will go back to normal between us, back to the days where we never fought. Something tells me those times are long behind us.  

After finally pulling into the parking lot of the church, I turn off my car and glance at the building in my rear-view mirror. I’m really early. I guess I could just sit here, or I could go inside and see if anyone’s here yet. Molly usually gets here fifteen minutes early. Maybe she arrived extra early today.  

Deciding I’ve already spent enough time in my car today, I step outside and walk up to the church. The inside is quiet and eerie, and the whole thing still freaks me out. I still get that feeling that I shouldn’t be here whenever I walk by the sanctuary where the masses are held. This time, though, I don’t rush past like I normally do. Instead, I pause outside the door. A strange feeling consumes my body, like a gust of wind is suddenly pushing me forward. Everything in my stomach hallows out, the weights lift off my shoulder for a second, and my feet suddenly move forward. I don’t think anyone is here yet. I can just sit and wait in here.  

The large room is empty, and I’m immediately hit with a large sense that I shouldn’t be here. I haven’t been in a sanctuary like this in years. I left this whole world of God and religion behind a long time ago. Then all of a sudden, I get the urge to come back and sit in here. I take a deep breath and sit in one of the pews. Light comes in through the windows around me, making the dust much more visible as it floats in the air. 

 I stiffly lean back into my seat and fold my hands in my lap. Glancing around some more, I take everything in. I remember some of the things that are typically held here, like the tabernacle and the giant cross with Jesus nailed to it. Those days where I would sit with my family in one of these pews, listening to the priest talk, feel so long ago.  

“It’s nice in here, isn’t it?”  

I was so lost in thought, I didn’t hear the doors open and another person come in. I jump and spin around. Molly is pleasantly strolling through the main aisle towards me, her eyes calmly scanning the room around her. I don’t say anything as she finally makes her way to me.  

“Mind if I sit down?” she asks politely.  

“Sure,” I say and move over. We sit in a long silence, but it’s not awkward. We simply just enjoy the quiet, knowing that both of us rarely get it.  

“I like to come here to sit sometimes,” Molly speaks eventually. “There’s something calming about it.”  

“I guess so,” I say even though I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’m feeling rather tense. She glances over at me, but I keep my eyes trained ahead of me. “Sorry if that sounded rude,” I say in case she gets the wrong idea.  

“Not at all. You just seem deep in thought.”  

“I guess,” I shrug. “I just . . . haven’t been in here for a long time.” Molly nods, and I suddenly feel the need to say more. “I mean, I used to come. I just . . . don’t anymore.”  

“Why not?”  

I pause a moment for answering. “My family just stopped coming. I stopped thinking about it, and I guess after what happened to me, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”  

“I see,” she says gently.  

“I just don’t see any big God or whatever being able to watch over me all the time. After what happened to me, after what happened to both of us, I just don’t think I believe it anymore.”  

“I’ve been Catholic my entire life. But then I started getting abused, and I lost it too.”  

I finally glance sideways at her, but she’s not looking at me anymore. Instead, she is starting up at the giant cross with a faraway look on her face I’ve never seen before.  

“I grew up knowing that God was always with me,” she starts again. “It was what I was always taught. That there was some bigger picture I couldn’t see, some greater plan that God had in store for me. But when my ex-husband turned abusive, I morphed that idea into something that made me stay with him. I thought that what was happening to me was what I deserved, that it was God’s way of punishing me for my sins. That’s the reason I stayed.”  

Molly has never mentioned any of this in group therapy. She’s talked about her faith multiple times, and some of what happened to her while she was abused, but never this.  

“I was scared of him,” she says quietly. “I was scared that God would punish me even more if I left and ruined his whole plan for me. I stopped going to church, I cut myself off from anyone that I thought might suspect something was wrong. I became angry at God. I didn’t understand why I was being put through this. Then one day, I just left. I can’t explain what happened that day. I just got up that morning and ran away. I wasn’t going to take one more second of it.” She sighs closes her eyes for a moment. “I called my sister and told her what was happening. She helped me get out, I separated from my husband, then I lived with her for a year or so before I finally put my life back together.  

“The first year without him was just as bad as the time I spent with him. I was so, so angry. I didn’t understand why God put me through what I did, I didn’t understand why I was abandoned while I was suffering. But then one day, my sister took me back to church for the first time in two years. She practically dragged me there, but I went. I just sat and listened to the stories of God. That first day back made me rethink the way I was seeing things. I went to talk to my priest, and he gave me counseling to lead me back to the Church. I went to Confession and told God and the priest everything that I was feeling.  

“It took me a while to finally understand this, but I do now. I went through what I did for a reason. God put me through those events, but not for the reasons I thought. Not to punish me or make me suffer, but to teach me a lesson and bring me closer to him. Maybe I was mad at Him for putting me in that situation, whether it was true or not, but I couldn’t be mad at Him for getting me out. Once I was finally able to realize those things, all anger I felt towards the Church and even myself went away. In the end, I learned so many lessons that I never would have understood if it weren’t for those terrible years of my life. I never would have had the incredible bond I have with God now.  

“I guess what I’m trying to tell you, Christi,” Molly says with a deep breath, “is that everything happens to make you a better person in the end. Whatever you’ve suffered through, whatever battles you’ve fought, it’s all for the end result. Because God never abandoned you. Even in the moments where you were hurting, the moment you lied on Eric’s bedroom floor, He was there with you.”

I’m officially at a loss for words. I have no idea what to say. “I believe that God saved your life that day Eric died,” Molly whispers. “You could have died. And I don’t mean to bring back that horrible day for you. I just want you to know that he chose to keep you alive because your life isn’t over.”  

“So God took Eric’s life instead?” I say in a whisper, tears immediately starting to sting my eyes. “Why couldn’t he save him?”  

“Eric was already dead, Christi,” she tells me gently. “He chose his path himself. He made terrible decisions, and it led to his death.”  

Maybe Eric did choose his path himself. Maybe he lost himself even long before he met me, or maybe he never knew himself to begin with. All the bad decisions he made kept adding up, and before he knew it, it was too late.  

“I never thought about it like that,” I say finally.  

“Would you like to come to church with me this Sunday?”  

I stare ahead at Jesus on the cross. I’ve been away from this place for a long time. I lost that hope that someone was always there with me, on the nights Eric hurt me, on the night he died, on the nights after that. I didn’t understand that I was never abandoned by God, even though that’s what I’ve convinced myself to believe. He never left me. I left him. And Molly is right. My life is not over.

“I would love that, Molly.”  

The second I make it home later that afternoon, I apologize to Kalene.  

~0o0~ 

Before I go to church on Wednesday night, Molly takes me to Confession. I’m scared to go at first, scared to admit every single mistake I’ve made in the many years since I’ve been to church, but after Molly told me her story a few days ago, I’ve had a strange, new determination to set my relationship with God right again.  

“Don’t be nervous,” Molly tells me as we drive to the church near my house. “God will always forgive you as long as you want to be forgiven.”  

And more than anything, I really do want to be forgiven. I want a chance to start over, a chance to make things in my life go right. After I lost that hope for so long, I want to start finding it again.  

I must talk to Fr. John, the priest at my church, for an hour. I tell him every single thing I can possibly think of. He listens to me and urges me to tell him everything, and I do. When I’m finally finished, he gives me prayers, and I go sit in a pew to pray for the first time in years.  

It’s refreshing, and it feels right. I don’t feel like this is something I shouldn’t be doing, something forbidden that I don’t deserve. I must sit there for a full other hour praying. I say the prayers Fr. John told me to, then I just talk to God. I tell him everything, how I’m sorry, how I’m feeling, and how thankful I am for being here. I don’t think I’ve been able to say that for a long time, but I am now. I’m thankful. Even though some things are hard, I should be celebrating what I have. I have all these hobbies that I’ve picked up, I have my family who love me more than anything, I have amazing friends that accept me for who I am, and I have Molly who led me back to something I’ve been missing out on.  

After my first time going back to church, everything changes for me. I see things differently. I don’t look to the things I’m missing; I look to the things I have. When I lay awake late at night and can’t fall asleep, I don’t hate myself for it. I don’t fight with my sister as often, and I even start thinking about the future for once. What do I want to do after high school? What are some things I would consider doing with my life? All of a sudden, it feels like a piece of my life is back. Sure, there are still plenty of bad days. But at least I know the bad days are worth something. I’m worth something.  

I start looking at collages Mr. Helmer recommends. I start finding out which subjects I’m good at, which things I enjoy. It elates my father, and even more so, my sister. She’s been the one pushing me to move forward and make things better for so long, and I’m finally starting to show some of that progress. Not just with my future, but with other things. My relationships with people, my writing, my baking, piano, and Kalene’s favorite, my singing. I must show some major improvement because suddenly, it’s all she wants to talk about.  

“You would totally fit in with me at the Academy,” she tells me almost every day. “I’m serious, Christi, you’re one of the most talented singers out there. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m serious.”  

But even if I considered making it in the music industry one day, there’s no way I would be able to pull myself through that world, the world where everyone is always watching you. Even at Roanin Academy, a school, attention is always on those students. Even now, I could never handle that. I do my best to improve my singing to please my sister, but for that reason only.  

Towards the end of Easter weekend, my father, Kalene, and I all travel to Grandma Irene and Grandpa Jack’s house just like every year. The only difference is Molly is going to come up Easter morning to meet the rest of the family. I’m excited to have her there. Grandma Irene was ecstatic when I told her I want to go to church with her in the morning, and I made sure to invite Molly along with us.  

So, on Easter morning, I go to church with my grandmother and Molly. The three of us get back just as everyone is waking up, and I help Aunt Tessa make breakfast for everyone while my cousins scour the house for their Easter eggs. It’s the most content I’ve felt in a long time, and I even crack a smile when Kalene spits out an entire gulp of orange juice to laugh at Uncle Tyler’s terrible joke.  

Molly fits in perfectly. I think she was a little anxious at first after seeing how incredibly wild everyone is, but now she’s laughing and talking comfortably just like she did the first time she met me and my sister. She looks really happy, and as I watch her interact more with my father, I feel happy too. Molly is what he’s been missing his entire life, and I’m glad he finally found that.  

Now that I really think about it, Molly is what I’ve really been missing in my life too. She’s brought so much back to me, not just as a new motherly figure that I’ve never had. She’s been a leader at group therapy, someone who understands and listens, someone who pushes me just the right amount, and someone who led me back to what I’ve been missing my entire life. Even if it doesn’t work out for her and my father, I plan to always keep her as part of my life. After Easter weekend is over, my father seems incredibly pleased with how the weekend went and how much our family loves her.  

I try to keep my new mindset at the forefront as the month of May starts, and I start counting down the days to the anniversary of Eric’s death. I talk with Dr. Charm about it and try my hardest to prepare for the terrible feelings it’s going to bring me, but I know it’s no use. I’m going to be a complete wreck on that day. Kalene promises to call me since she’s going to be on tour, but I tell her not to worry about me. My father offers to take the day off work, but I tell him no. I cancel everything I have planned for that day, tell Mr. Helmer I’m going to be out of town, reschedule my appointment with Dr. Charm, and tell Taylor, Maya, and Emily that I can’t go to lunch. More than anything, I just want the day to myself.  

May fourteenth arrives like an anticipated thunderstorm. Ironically enough, it does thunderstorm that day, and the heavy rain and thunder wakes me with my alarm. My nightmare was even worse than usual, and maybe that’s because I’ve kept it in my mind that this day was going to be its own separate nightmare.  

For a moment, I just lay there in the darkness of my room and stare at the ceiling. To think that a year ago today, at this exact same time, I had no idea what was coming. I got dressed for school like I normally did, then went about the nightmare of my life, the fear prodding at my insides like something terrible was going to happen. Little did I know that everything was about to fall apart for good. Something terrible was going to happen. I still wish I could go back to that day and never get out of bed. Would Eric have done it anyway if I never came to school? Would he kill himself without me there, would he come to my house and take me, would he save it for another day? If he had more time, would he change his decision?  

After about an hour of not moving, I finally drag myself from my bed and move around my room to get dressed. A lot clap of thunder shakes me, and for a moment, I see the gun he had pressed against my forehead. My forehead, then his. There are so many things I want to ask him. Was he planning it, or did he make a split-second decision? Was I the one that pushed him over the edge, the one that made him take his own life? After months and months of trying to push those thoughts out of my head, it’s all coming back.  

I spend the majority of the morning under the cover of the back porch with the rain still falling steadily. I sit out there for hours. I eat the breakfast my father makes me, then say goodbye to him before he leaves for work. When he’s gone, I do nothing but think. I stare out in the backyard and let my mind run. About every single memory I had with Eric, all the questions I wish I had answers to, everything that happened that could have possibly led up to his last moment.  

Eventually, around two o’clock in the afternoon, I stand from the porch swing and stretch. I’ve been thinking about this all day. I’ve been thinking about it since the moment he died, and I think it’s time I do it. I think all this time, I’ve been too afraid to do it. Every moment this year, these moments that I’ve spent away from him, parts of me have learned to fear him more. But in other ways, I’ve also learned to let him go.  

It’s still raining when I reach my destination. I take a deep breath from the driver’s seat of my car, still not sure if this is really a good idea. I ignore the pit in my stomach and step outside.  

Rain slides off my umbrella as I shuffle through the graveyard, and I keep my eyes open for Eric’s name somewhere among the tombstones. Everything around me seems eerie and forbidden like I shouldn’t be here. Random names jump out at me as if they’re trying to push me away, and each grave I pass seems to pile on my shoulders to create a heavy weight. I never found out where Eric was buried, but this is the closest graveyard to his house. He’s lived here his entire life, so it’s not like he would be buried anywhere else.  

I stop dead in my tracks when I spot Eric’s grave. After nearly an hour of searching, I’ve finally found it. It’s small and smooth just like I imagined, and it has his full name, date of birth, and date of death carved delicately into the stone. All of a sudden, it feels so real.  

It takes me a moment to regain use of my legs. A part of me says I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t have the right to be here, inches away from the last piece of him that’s left. I take a step closer and try to swallow the lump in my throat. My legs are shaking as I kneel down in front of him, my knees now soaked in mud and grass as I gently lay down the bouquet of flowers I brought. My hands are shaking terribly.  

“Hi.” Rain slides off the grave and pools around it, creating mud that bubbles like a type of poison. “I, um, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” I choke out. “I wasn’t really sure I deserved to come here after—well, you know.”  

I pause and stare down at his name as the rain slides alone the stone. “I don’t know if you can even hear me right now,” I try again. “I’m not sure if you’d even want me here right now if I’m being honest. You probably hate me, and well, there’s nothing I can do about now that you’re . . . now that you’re . . .” My voice trails off, and my vision becomes blurry with tears. “This is all my fault.”  

Tears start to fall down my face in waves, and this time, there’s no stopping it. My hand reaches out to touch his name, to touch the last piece of him I have left. He’s gone. He’s gone, and it’s all my fault. It all feels so real. A giant gaping hole in me seems to widen, filled with nothing but my own grief and guilt. I should have been there. I should have helped him. But now he’s gone, and that’s something I can’t fix no matter how hard I try.  

“I’m so sorry, Eric,” I whisper again. “I’m so sorry.”  

My hand falls from the grave, and my knees sink into the mud even more. My body shakes with emotion as I clutch on to my umbrella for dear life, and I sit there and cry in the pouring down rain. For Eric. For myself. For whatever my life is right now. My life that’s broken; damaged beyond repair for as long as I live. And so is his. His life is over. And it’s all my fault. Whatever chance he had left, whatever pieces he had that could have saved him, are all gone. I couldn’t see it; I couldn’t stop thinking about myself and focus on what he was going through. It’s so clear now. All those times he was angry at me, it was because he didn’t know what to do. He was crying out for help, for someone to save him before it was too late. But no one heard him. No one saw, and now he’s gone.  

“I’m so sorry,” I whimper, and the rain starts to fall harder.  

I sit on my window seat a few weeks later with my notebook in my lap, my pencil flying across the pages as I scribble down lyrics that randomly came to mind about ten minutes ago. It’s a very warm afternoon so I have my window open, and the sun is brightly shining into my room. I’m simply enjoying one of the rare feelings of peace I occasionally get. Maybe it’s because my meeting with Dr. Charm this morning went well, or because I’m finally recovering from my breakdown at Eric’s grave a few weeks ago. That day set me back more than I thought it would and took me back to the times where I didn’t have anything. But recently, I’ve been back to the person I became after my talk with Molly at the church. After a different conversation with her a few days ago, I’m starting to understand that setbacks are a normal part of recovery.  

“Get thrown down so you can get back up,” she said rather cheerfully as we walked out of the restaurant where we had lunch together. Ever since April, I’ve started to understand that phrase more and more. I smile to myself at the memory as I continue to write.  

I’m deep in thought, but I hear the loud bang that suddenly echoes from downstairs, and my head jerks from my notebook to the door. My grandmother barks something incoherent at whoever made the noise. 

“Where’s Christi?” a voice yells from downstairs, and I feel my face twist in confusion. That sounds an awful like Kalene. But what is she doing here? She’s supposed to be on tour.  

There’s a moment of silence where Grandma Irene is probably answering her. Then all of a sudden, a pair of feet are racing up the stairs, and before I even get the chance to set my notebook down, the door to my room crashes open with another bang.  

“What the—”  

“Christi!” my sister screams when she sees me, and the second my eyes land on the bag in her hand, my stomach sinks. Those are the special cinnamon rolls she only gets me for times when she wants to make me feel better or sucker me into something.  

“Kalene?” I ask in confusion. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on tour?”  

Her smile doesn’t leave her bright pink face and lit up eyes. She almost looks like she got off a roller coaster.  

“We’re back this week for the end of year concert,” she reminds me, then practically skips over to me. It’s so out of character I almost laugh. “I brought you a treat.”  

She tosses the bag of cinnamon rolls at me, and I have to lunge off my window seat to catch them so they don’t spill all over my carpet. I stare at her in bewilderment as she plops down next to me and grins like a fool.  

“What’s going on?” I ask as I stare at her like she just laid an egg.  

“Hurry up and eat one,” she says quickly, still looking at me like a maniac. “I have great news.”  

“Ok,” I say slowly, then reach inside the bag.  

“Maria is leaving,” she blurts out before I get the chance to even touch a cinnamon roll. She looks so happy I’m afraid she might explode. I have no idea what she’s talking about. I pull my hand out of the bag.  

“Who’s leaving what?”  

“Maria Diaz,” she practically screeches. “You know, that number one Major I called a cow?  She’s leaving the Academy!”  

“Ok,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “Is that a good thing?”  

I’m guessing it is. Judging by her excitement, I’d say it’s a very good thing. Kalene doesn’t talk about the Majors a lot, only Zach, really. But I do remember that one night she told me I sang better than “Maria the cow.” I had no idea she was the number one Major. I probably saw her at the end of year concert a year ago, but I still barely remember that night, let alone the people I saw. I still don’t understand how this has to deal with me. Maybe Kalene is just really excited she’s leaving. She clearly does not like her.  

“It’s an amazing thing, Christi,” Kalene yells. I just stare at her.  

Her face calms the slightest bit, but her expression is still the happiest I’ve seen it in a long time. What is she getting at? Why would she show up to tell me this with a bag of cinnamon rolls?  

“You don’t get it, do you, little sister?” she suddenly whispers excitedly. “She’s leaving at the end of the month, which leaves a big gap for the play on September first.” I continue to stare at her as she puts a hand on my shoulder. “They have an open spot.”  

For a second, I’m still puzzled. Why is she telling me this? Why would this be a big deal to me, the girl who only knows what Roanin Academy is because of her sister. But then her voice starts playing through my head. All those times she told me I had an incredible voice, all the times she suggested that I go to the Academy with her. All the times she said I would fit in perfectly as a Major, that I was better than Maria, that I had everything you needed to have to be a part of the school.  

No. 

“No,” I spit out. “No. Absolutely not. You’re crazy to think I could ever get up on that stage and sing in front of all those people and fit in with those students, fit in with the best singers in the entire—”  

“Just hear me out,” she pleads. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think you could do it, Christi. Professor Darious asked everyone if they knew someone who could fill the spot, and you were honestly the first person I thought of.”  

I shake my head frantically. Nothing can change my mind on this, absolutely nothing. “You’ve lost your mind.”  

“The play is The Greatest Showman!” she yells. “You love that movie.”  

When I don’t say anything, she sighs. “Look,” she starts again, a new determination in her voice. “You trust me, right? You know I don’t lie, and I don’t do things that aren’t going to work out. You can do this, little sister, I’m serious. I know what kind of talent you have, the talent you don’t even see in yourself. If you don’t believe in yourself, then believe in me.”  

I remain silent. 

“I’m not asking you to become a Major, ok? That’s not what they’re looking for right now,” she presses. “I’m just asking you to give it a shot and come audition. If you don’t make it, then that’s fine. I won’t be mad. If you do make it, do it to have fun. You’ve been so scared to try new things this year, but you do it anyway, and you love it. Look at your voice lessons. Look at group therapy. Look at your writing.”  

I reach inside the bag to take a cinnamon roll and shove it in my mouth. Every single part of me is saying this is a bad idea. I was never meant to do this kind of thing, before and after Eric. “I’m not a Major, Kalene,” I say after I swallow my cinnamon roll. “I don’t belong there, even if it’s only for the summer.”  

“Then don’t be a Major,” she says firmly. “Be Christi. A lot of people love her. I love her.” I gulp and finally look over at her. “Just promise me you’ll consider it,” she begs and gives me a pouty face. “I need an answer back by Tuesday.”  

My immediate answer is no. I don’t want to consider this. I want to stay where I belong, hidden in my room, not out in that world with perfect people and their perfect voices. But something deep inside me hesitates. No was my immediate answer for voice lessons too. It was my immediate answer for learning piano, for baking, for group therapy, for writing, for everything. But I did them all anyway. And look where I am with those things now. I love every single one of them.  

“I promise I’ll think about it,” I say finally. “No promises of a yes.”  

“I’ll take that,” she says happily as a giant grin spreads across her face. “I’m proud of you for considering this, Christi.”  

“I think you should really think about this one, flower,” my father’s voice comes from the doorway, and Kalene starts laughing when she spots him and my grandmother watching from the doorway.  

“Dad,” I groan, and he just smiles. “How long have you been standing there? I thought you were at work.”  

“I got home a few minutes ago,” he says as he takes a step further into my room. “This sounds like a great idea, Christi. I trust your sister’s belief in you. And she’s right. Your voice is amazing.”  

I sigh as my grandmother hoots her approval, and Kalene pats my head with a cheeky grin.  

“Think about it, Christi,” she repeats. I watch in silence as she goes to hug my father and grandmother goodbye. This crazy. Absolutely crazy. “Things are looking up, little sister,” she chirps, then leaves me room with one last wink over her shoulder.  

~0o0~ 

“And that’s where this came from,” I finally finish and stop pacing Dr. Charm’s office to hand her the wrinkled paper.  

I huff and cross my arms while I wait for her to read it. I was up half the night yesterday writing a list of pros and cons for this whole play idea Kalene has her mind set on. There is definitely more cons. That should have debunked this crazy idea right then and there. But still, I decided to bring it in to show Dr. Charm and explain to her what’s going on.  

“Some of these cons are a little farfetched,” Dr. Charm says pleasantly like we’re discussing which carpet pattern she should pick for her living room. “I don’t think Kalene is going to quit the Academy if you don’t make it.”  

I groan and throw myself on to the couch. I can’t see her since my face is now buried in a cushion, but I hear her pen scribbling on the paper.  

“There,” she says eventually, “now there are more pros.”  

“Forget the stupid pros and cons list,” I huff as I sit up straight. “What if I don’t want to do this?”  

“I seriously doubt that’s true.”  

“But I don’t,” I groan. “I don’t want to go up on that ginormous stage and sing in front of all those people. I don’t fit in there, Dr. Charm, and I don’t want all those eyes on me. If I somehow would manage to get in, they broadcast the thing to the whole country.”  

“But you love singing, Christi,” she says gently. “And it’s only for the summer, a nice activity to keep you occupied. Listen to your sister. She said it herself. She’s not trying to make you a Major.”  

“But all the people,” I whine and throw my head back exasperatedly. “All the perfect students, all the coaches, I can’t do it.”  

“Can’t? Or won’t?”  

“Can’t!” I yell furiously. “I can’t do it! You see what I’m like with new people. It takes me forever to warm up to just one person, let alone an entire school. And Roanin Academy! Do you know how unrealistic that is for me?”  

“That’s exactly what you said about group therapy,” she points out. “And your voice lesson. And everything else you’ve tried this year. You’ve got it in your head that you’re going to fail at every single thing you do, but that is the unrealistic component about this entire situation. Not everything is going to end in disaster. You’re great at a lot of things.”  

“That’s not what I was told,” I say quietly.  

“There are always going to be people that tell you that, Christi,” Dr. Charm pushes. “No matter what you do. Singing or no singing. It’s just the unfortunate society we live in.”  

“But—”  

“No more buts,” she says firmly, and her sudden force surprises me. “I will not let you pass this up. Just go and try it. If you don’t make it, then we try again. If you do, then let go and have some fun.”  

I don’t say anything. I just stare ahead at the glass coffee table in a whirlwind of thoughts.  

“Eric does not control you anymore,” she says in a deep whisper. “You control yourself. You’ve been holding on to the prospect of disappointing him for so long, in life and in death. You need to do this for yourself. Not for me, not for Eric, not for Kalene, not for your dad, not for anyone. For you.”  

I finally look at her, and she gives me a small nod. She really does want this for me. Out of all the things that could go wrong, all the things that could end up ruining my life again, she thinks it’s a good idea. I trust Dr. Charm. I trust her with my life. If doing this play is what she thinks is a good idea, a good chance for me, not just to recover but to have fun, then maybe I should do it.  

“You told me you’ve felt like you’ve been frozen in time,” Dr. Charm says firmly. “You’ve been waiting for something to make you start moving again. Well this is that chance, Christi. This is your opportunity to grab on to something and force it to work in your favor.”  

“And if it doesn’t work,” I whisper, “then we try again until it does?”  

“That’s right,” she says with a small smile. “We try again until it does. Because that’s how life works sometimes. I’m with you every step of the way.”  

I sigh again and lean back into the couch. My eyes land on my phone that rests on the small coffee table, and I shake my head in disbelief. I must be crazy. But maybe I’m not as crazy as I think I am. The more I think about it after I leave Dr. Charm’s office, the more realistic this seems. Maybe not making the play but at least auditioning for it.  

I spend the rest of Sunday and entirety of Monday with a completely chaotic mind, thinking of every possible outcome of my decision, good and bad. Sometimes I’m positive that I’m not doing this no matter what. But other times, I’m convinced that I’m ready to do something like this, something that will put me back out into the real world. Maybe Dr. Charm is right. Maybe this is my chance.  

My father spends every moment we have together convincing me to do it. Molly calmly tells me that she thinks it would be a great idea. Taylor, Maya, and Emily are bursting with excitement when I tell them I have an opportunity to do something with Roanin Academy.  

“This is a huge deal, Christi,” Emily says jovially. “Do you know how many people want to go to that school? How hard it is to even be asked to audition? Kalene clearly thinks you have a chance against all those people. I think you should do it.”  

“Me too,” Taylor agrees, and the glint in her eye almost makes me excited too. “You talk about not knowing where to go with your life next. I think this could be a big break for you.”  

“But it’s just for the summer,” I tell her. “No way in any world would I be a Major.”  

“Then maybe use this to see where you want to go next,” she says. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll want to go into the music industry.”  

Even though that possibility is slim, it does make me rethink a lot. Maybe it is something I need to do for myself. Maybe it’s something I need to do for them. For all the people that helped me this year, from my sister and father to Molly to Taylor, Maya, and Emily to Dr. Charm to Mr. Helmer to Penny.  

Or maybe not. When Tuesday morning finally comes and I’m staring at my phone, I realize something. This entire year, I’ve been forcing myself to recover for other people. To keep my father together, to keep Kalene from going off her rocker, because Dr. Charm is pushing me, to thank Molly for all she’s done for me, for all the women at group therapy, and hell, I’ve been doing it for Eric too. For the person he never was, for the person I failed to be for him. I’ve been doing it for them. Never once did I push myself to get better for me. And that’s what I’ve been missing. Now I know, this play is something that I have to do. To prove to myself that I am capable of coming out of this, that I am capable of doing things I love. And I love singing. I love it more than anything.  

Before I can change my mind, I seize my phone, plop down on my window seat, and call Kalene. I can hear the millions of alarms going off in my head, telling me this is a bad idea. But something else is there too. A rush. A rush for something new, for something fun, for something I love. Kalene picks up on the third ring.  

“Hello?”  

“Hi.”  

“Christi!” she says happily. “Hey! What’s up?”  

“I made a decision,” I say, grinning when I picture her reaction.  

“You did?” she nearly yells. “Really? What is it?”  

“I’ll try it.”  

Kalene shrieks so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear. I smile when I picture her jumping up and down with excitement.  

“Really? You’ll do it?” she yells.  

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” I say with a small chuckle.  

She squeals again, and I shake my head in amusement.  

“Yes!” she cries triumphantly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes! You won’t regret it, Christi, I promise. This is awesome! You can get started right away. Start thinking of songs to audition with, then we’ll talk more tomorrow.”  

I smile softly at her excited voice. Saying yes was totally worth it just to hear her reaction.  

“Got it.”  

“I’ve got to go to class, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she says happily.  

“Ok,” I agree. “I love you.”  

“I love you too, little sister,” she says, and my smile widens. “I’m really happy you’re doing this.”  

“Me too.”  

After she hangs up, I let out a sigh and close my eyes for a moment. This is definitely crazy. Out of every new thing I’ve done this year, this is definitely the most insane. Never in my entire life did I think I would be saying yes to something like this. After every time I denied Kalene’s comments about me and Roanin Academy, I never would have imagined I would be saying yes to a chance at that school. It’s so out of character for me, not just doing something at Roanin Academy, but taking big leaps of faith like this. It’s always terrified me. When I’ve tried something, it usually comes with all the wild ideas of what could go wrong. But for some reason, this time, I think of what could go right.

“One week!” I shriek into the phone two days later, back on my window seat and on the phone with Kalene again.  

“One week and two days,” she corrects smartly. “The audition is on May thirty-first.”  

“And you think that’s enough time?” I ask nervously.  

“Should be enough,” my sister replies. “You don’t want to spend too much time on it. Just go with your gut and show what you can really do.”  

“It sucks that I can’t have your help.”  

“Yeah, well, that would kind of defeat the purpose, don’t you think? You’re going to do great with whatever you choose, Christi. You have a knack for music.”  

“But I’ve never arranged a song before.”  

“Consider it easier than writing one.”  

I sigh and rub my eyes tiredly. “And the play is The Greatest Showman?”  

“Yep,” she chirps happily. “And you’re auditioning for Lettie Lutz. The bearded lady.”  

I gulp.  

“Yeah,” I choke out. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Kalene? I mean, Lettie Lutz is a huge roll. I don’t know if I can—”  

“You have the perfect Lettie Lutz voice,” she tries to convince me. “You made me promise not to let you quit, remember? Keep working, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow to check in, ok?”  

“Ok. Bye, Kalene,” I groan, and the line goes silent.  

Lettie Lutz.  

This is crazy.  

I pick up my notebook and wander into Kalene’s room where her piano is, then sit down on the bench and open to the page full of song ideas. I have it narrowed down to five songs, all of them being carefully thought out from these past two days. I’m still contemplating which one would be the best fit. I need to pick something that Lettie Lutz would sing. She sings incredibly high for one thing, and she also has a lot of crazy runs. But I also remember what Kalene told me. I need to make this my own. I can’t pick a song that’s already upbeat and loud and impressive, I need something that I can make Lettie Lutz. That’s what they’re going to want, and it’s what other contestants hopefully don’t understand.  

I stick my pencil between my teeth and stare down at the paper. I need a song that gives me room to change things without altering the entire song. As hard as it is, I need to show off. Lettie Lutz is powerful, not quiet. So that means I need something I can make powerful. There’s only one song on here that’s known to be quiet and downbeat but gives me enough flexibility to make it Lettie Lutz. I circle the song the song I’ve chosen then search the lyrics on my phone so I can print them out.  

I spend the rest of the day at Kalene’s piano messing around with the song. I play different notes and try different runs to see what I like best. My lessons with Penny have paid off, so I’m able to go really high too. That’s going to be important at this audition. I need that one note or moment that just blows everyone away.  

Around six-thirty later that night, my father pokes his head in to announce dinner, so I leave everything at the piano to join him.  

“You’re sounding incredible,” he tells me as we eat together. “You choose ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’?”  

I nod with a shrug. “It sounded most appealing,” I tell him. “I have a reason behind it, I promise.”  

“I trust your judgement,” he smiles. “You’re going to do great, flower. You’ll stand apart from the other people for sure.” 

I haven’t thought that much about the other people that are going to be auditioning. I guess I figured that I wouldn’t be the only one there, but it’s still a bit of a slap in the face. But it makes sense. They’re not going to look at just one person.  

“Maybe run it by Penny during your lesson tomorrow,” my father suggests, and I immediately look up at him.  

“There may be a slight problem with that.”  

“What? Why? I’m sure she’ll be able to help you.”  

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t exactly know that Kalene is my sister. I haven’t really mentioned this whole thing to her.”  

“Really?” he questions. “Why not?”  

“How do you think it would look if I showed up to a voice teacher and told her my sister is Kalene Rodgers. They’d compare me to her, Dad. I didn’t want that when I went to see Penny for the first time. I didn’t want to be Kalene’s little sister, I just . . . I just wanted to be me.”  

“But Penny doesn’t seem like the type of person that would compare you to her,” my father says gently.  

“I know that now,” I sigh exasperatedly. “But I didn’t back then. I walked into that first lesson with no idea what to expect.”  

“I’d just walk in and tell her the truth.”  

“Yeah, well, it’s not that easy. What if she’s mad at me?”  

“I can almost one hundred percent guarantee you that she won’t be mad.”  

I sigh and start poking at my food again.  

“How much do you really want this, Christi? Because if it’s something you’re really working for, I think Penny could help you out.”  

I want it more than I’m willing to admit to myself. Somewhere deep inside me, I want it more than anything. Still, I’m terrified I won’t make it and terrified that I will. If I don’t, then it will deflate my confidence to the point of no return. I don’t want Kalene to lose her faith in me either. She was so excited when I told her I would audition. But if I do make it, then how am I going to handle being at that school for a whole three months? Sure, I’ll know my sister and even Zach. But what about everyone else? What will they think of me? What are they even like? I’m going to have to hide my past from everyone, or it’ll all be over. That’s not an easy task. I don’t know if I can hide the panic attacks and the depression and the self-doubt for that long.  

Even though all these things terrify me, for some reason, I still want it. Maybe because this time, the good things weigh out the bad. If I make it, I could have more fun than I’ve had in a long time. Kalene absolutely loves the Academy, maybe I will too. Maybe I’ll find something that leads me back on the right track, the track I fell off of when Eric came into my life. I could make friends, I could get to know myself better, I could do what I love for the entire summer.  

And for that reason, I plan to tell Penny when our lesson comes around in a few days. My father is right. She won’t care that Kalene is my sister, and she’ll be happy and proud of me for getting an audition at the Academy.  

When our lesson finally comes around, I leave for her apartment feeling slightly nervous. I know she won’t care that I haven’t told her, but what if she does? What if she feels hurt that I’ve been keeping it from her? She should understand. She has to. I jump a little when the door opens, and Penny greets me.  

“Hi, Christi,” she smiles. “Come on in. How are you?”  

“Good,” I squeak, and she glances over her shoulder to give me a funny look.  

“Are you ok?” she chuckles. “You look a little pale.”  

“There’s something I have to tell you,” I start nervously as I stop walking. “Two things, actually.”  

She halts too and gives me a warm smile. “Go for it.”  

I gulp nervously, and my hand flies to my necklace to fiddle with it nervously. “I don’t know if you knew this,” I say awkwardly, “but Kalene Rodgers is my sister. The Major at Roanin Academy.”  

She just stares at me for a moment, and butterflies explode in my stomach. “I know,” she says causally and smiles again before she turns back around and continues walking over to the piano.  

“Wait, what?” I sputter, still rooted to the spot.  

“You never told me, but I guessed,” she shrugs like it’s not that big of a deal. “You two look a lot alike. When you left after our first lesson, I looked it up and saw she had a sister. I didn’t know for sure if it was you, but I had my guesses. The more I heard you sing, the more I believed it. Parts of your voice sound like hers.”  

“Really?” I ask bewilderedly.  

“Yeah,” she laughs at my shocked expression. “You can only hear it if you listen closely. It’s mostly in the vowels.”  

“Oh,” I respond numbly, and she smirks and shakes her head at me.  

“Is that it?”  

“Um, well, there’s just one more thing.”  

She looks at me as I slowly start to shuffle over to the piano.  

“My sister, Kalene, got me an audition at Roanin Academy for their September play.”  

Penny drops the handful of music she was holding and grins so widely her mouth must hurt.  

“What?” she yells excitedly, and I smile nervously. “Really? Christi, that’s amazing!”  

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Their number one Major is quitting at the end of the month, and they need someone for the play. My sister wants me to come and audition.”  

“Oh my gosh,” Penny cries and throws her hands in the air excitedly. “Christi, this is incredible! You’ll do great at that school.”  

“It’s only for the summer,” I say. “But I thought I would go and try out and see what happens.”  

“That’s wonderful,” she beams. “This is a great opportunity for you. I think you have a great chance of making it. You’ve made so much progress with me, I bet a few lessons with them would be amazing for you.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m hoping to accomplish,” I say as I sit down at the piano bench. “I’ve been working on a song to audition with. I was hoping you would help me out and give me some tips.”  

“I would love to,” she raves. “Wow, Christi, Roanin Academy. That’s incredible.”  

For the next hour or so, Penny and I work together. We don’t change much to the song since Penny seems to like my whole idea behind it and how I arranged it, but she helps me out with the most challenging areas to perfect them. She gives me tips to warm up my voice some more before I go on, then how she usually handles her nerves before a performance. The nerves are what I’m really concerned about. I already get freaked out about every possible thing in normal life; I don’t want to think about the type of panic I’ll be feeling on the day of the audition.  

Once my lesson with Penny is over and I have new advice, I work on my audition to the point of exhaustion. I spend nearly three hours a day working on it, and I’m not even sure if that’s long enough. I perform for my father every day for practice, for Dr. Charm during our three visits that week, for Penny during the extra lesson we schedule, for the women at group therapy, and even for Mr. Helmer just for good measure.  

“My, my, my,” he cried when I finished and whipped out his handkerchief to wipe the thin layer of sweat from his forehead. “You really have quite the voice, my dear. I wish you the best of luck.”  

I gave him a shy thank you, but on the inside, I was utterly relieved.   

As the rest of the week slowly drags by and the audition draws closer, the nerves start to come. Rolling balls move around my stomach every second of the day, and they only get heavier the closer May thirty-first gets. My nightmares of failing and embarrassing myself in front of everyone worsen, and the panic becomes unbearable at times. But not once do I get the urge to drop out and forget the whole thing.  

My father tries his best to keep my mind off the nerves. He takes me and Molly out to dinner one night, encourages me after my long days of practicing, and tries to tell me that I’m going to do great. His words do make me feel better, but I can’t shake the feeling in my stomach, the heavy weights on my shoulders, and the terrible thoughts that run through my head.  

Dr. Charm talks to me every day, whether it’s on the phone or in her office. She calms me down and gives me techniques similar to Penny’s to ease the nerves on the big day, and she convinces me better than anyone that everything is going to be ok.  

Taylor, Maya, and Emily meet with me just two days before my audition so I can practice for them one more time, and they make me feel better too. They seem to be excited the most out of every other person that knows I’m auditioning, and it makes me feel a little proud that they’re happy with what I’m doing and how I sound.  

“No matter what happens, we’re all so proud of you, Christi,” Maya says kindly when I express my dreaded fear. “It’s incredible that you’re able to do this. Even if you don’t make it, we think you’re amazing.”  

“Unless God himself shows up, then you’re totally going to make it,” Taylor yells loudly. “I’m serious, Christi, you have some of the best talent out there. You’re going to knock the ball right out of the park.”  

Ten-thousand times during those last few days do I feel like I’m going to vomit. Ten-thousand times I picture myself messing up, ten-thousand times do I see the look of disappointment on Kalene’s face when I don’t make it. Even though I’m terrified beyond belief now, I don’t quit.  

“It’s all about deep breaths, little sister,” Kalene tells me the night before May thirty-first. “Just try your best to keep yourself calm. I’m super proud of you for doing this, ok?”  

“Ok,” I say quietly as I fiddle with my necklace.  

“I’m super excited to see you sing tomorrow. I know you’re going to do great.”  

“But what if I don’t make it, Kalene?” I whisper desperately. “I don’t want to disappoint you. You really want this for me.”  

“I do really want this for you,” she says simply, “but only because I know you really want it. I’m so happy for you, Christi. If you don’t make it, I won’t be mad or disappointed. I’m already proud of you for even auditioning.”  

“Really?”  

“Really,” she replies. “Now get a good night’s sleep and stop worrying about me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

It’s too bad I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a year. Either way, I go to bed early and try to force my eyes to close and my brain to turn off. But nothing I do works. My brain keeps running around with panic, my stomach is churning, and my eyes are wide open. When I eventually doze off, my nightmares wake me up again. Nightmares I’ve had before, nightmares I haven’t. Even though four hours of sleep is what I’m used to, it makes me feel terrible knowing that’s not what I should be getting for something as important as this audition.  

When I finally wake up to my alarm the next morning, sweaty and shaking, I’m feeling the nerves worse than ever. Butterflies and rolling weights of lead pile in my stomach and churn together, my legs are so heavy I can barely walk, and when I finally drag myself to the shower, I feel like I’m about to vomit everywhere.  

I never really planned out what I am going to wear today, but now I wish I had. I don’t have super stylish clothes. I probably should have went shopping for something nice. But it’s too late now, so I pick out an outfit I’m happy with then try to do something nice with my hair and makeup. When I deem myself presentable, I glance at my reflection in the mirror and smile the slightest bit. I look more alive than I have in two years. Although you can pick out the obvious terror, my face is bright. I’m excited. If I saw this girl a few months ago, if I knew what she was about to go do, there’s no way I would believe it.  

A few minutes later, I wander downstairs to where my father is cooking breakfast. He smiles when he sees me and shuffles over to give me a tight hug.  

“You look beautiful, flower,” he tells me. “You’re going to do great today.”  

“Thanks, Dad,” I smile as he pats my cheek and urges me to sit down. “I’m not super hungry.”  

“You’ve got to eat something,” he pushes as he shoves a plate of eggs in front of me.  

“Dad,” I sigh, “if I try to eat something, it’s just going to come back up again.”  

“Nerves coming in full force?”  

“Yeah,” I say with a shaky breath and poke at the eggs as he sits across from me and digs into his own meal.  

“I’m sure everyone else there is nervous too,” he assures me. “Remember what Kalene told you. Just try to stay calm. Believe in yourself. I really think you can do this, flower.”  

I gulp nervously.  

“I’ll bring something to eat while I’m waiting,” I promise and stand to push my plate back. “Thanks for the thought though.”  

I desperately try to do what he told me and calm myself down as I get my things together to leave. It’s important that I keep a cool head, but that’s definitely harder than it sounds. As I collect my music, my phone, a bottle of water, and some other random things, I try to convince myself that this is going to work out. Whatever happens, happens, and if it doesn’t go the way I want it to, then at least I tried. At least I tried to do this, and if I don’t make it, then I should at least be proud of that. That’s what everyone’s telling me, and the burning part of me wants to make it in just for them.  

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” my father promises as I get ready to head out the door. “I work until four today, so you might beat me home, but I don’t know.”  

I nod and swing my bag over my shoulder. He must sense my continuous panic because he grabs both of my hands and gives them a gentle squeeze.  

“Go out there and do this for yourself, Christi,” he tells me gently. “No matter what happens, everyone is extremely proud of you.”  

I tear my gaze off the ground and meet his gentle stare. He gives me a small smile, and I feel just a little bit better.  

“Thanks, Dad,” I say quietly and swallow the lump in my throat.  

“Sing beautifully, flower.”  

I nod, say one last goodbye, then I’m out the door.  

My hands are shaking as I turn on my car, so I take a moment to inhale a deep breath and stare ahead at the cloudy sky. Today, I need to go out there and sing for myself. That’s all it’s about today. Me. I’m doing this for me, and I’m doing this because I have to. I have to put myself out there again, and I have to find that thing that enables me to take another step forward. Even if it doesn’t work, I take another step until it finally does.  

I take another deep breath, shake my head, then pull out of the driveway.  

I’m really about to do this.  

The Academy is just like I remember it, just as grand and just as spectacular. I didn’t think the memory of being here last May would come back to me, but it does. Flashes of that day come into my head like a random dream I’m just now remembering. Driving up the road like I am now, standing inside the entrance with the waterfall walls, sitting in the ginormous auditorium. I never went to Kalene’s play in September because of a doctor’s appointment, and I never came to the end of year concert this year because I had an extra voice lesson with Penny before today’s audition. I haven’t been here in a long time. To think that in just a moment I’ll be auditioning in that building that looks more like a palace than a school makes my insides raddle.  

There’s still the massive front garden with all its grand landscaping and small paved trails, the circular turn-a-round, and the two parking lots. Then, of course, the enormous Academy. I have a brief memory of comparing it to a castle in the Netherlands. Seeing all of this again is extremely intimidating. Being here is almost like stepping into my old life, the life I had when was last here. I resist the urge to shudder and quickly look away from the school.  

After I park my car and step into the entrance, another flash of remembrance from Kalene’s first end of year concert comes back to me. Standing here in this room with the pale blue paint and two waterfall walls and the polished white floor. It does look slightly different now that it’s not set up for a party. It looks more like a really fancy foyer. Instead of tables of food and drinks, there’s a few chairs, couches, coffee tables, typical things you would expect to find. 

Kalene was supposed to meet me in here by nine o’clock, but since she’s late as always, I wander around some more. As I shuffle around the room, my eyes land on an easel full of pictures. Briefly, I remember Kalene telling me last year that this is this picture board. It has pictures of the students from every year.  

I smile slightly and bend down to look at the pictures. I saw Kalene’s first photograph last year when I came to her concert, but recently, a new photograph has been added. It looks relatively like the other one, same students and same coaches. Kalene is still smiling brightly while she stands next to Zach and another boy I don’t recognize. Looking at the other students in this picture, I realize that I don’t recognize any of them.  

“What do you think, do I look better in the second picture?” I turn my head, and Kalene grins at me excitedly. 

 “You look beautiful in both, Kalene,” I tell her truthfully as I stand straight again.  

“Oh, stop,” she says playfully as she comes to wrap an arm around me. “I personally think the second picture is better.” I just smile and shake my head. “Well, are you ready?” she asks, and I immediately remember the reason why I’m here in the first place. My smile falls, and I look back at her.  

“I’m absolutely terrified.”  

Kalene links her arm through mine and gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m so excited to hear you,” she tells me. “Even if you don’t make it, I’m so proud of you for doing this.”  

“I know, Kalene,” I tell her. She pats my cheek playfully, then pulls me away from the picture board and towards the hallway on the right that leads out of the entrance.  

“I’m going to take you to my dressing room where you can warm up until they call you out,” Kalene informs me. We make an L-shape as we immediately turn into a longer hallway, and I barely get the chance to look around some more as my sister drags me forward. This one leads on for quite a while and has a bunch of doors that lead to other rooms.  

“This is the hallway where all the academy classes are,” Kalene says. “There’s a few other rooms too. Two classrooms are on the right, two are on the left, then the library is up here.”  

I stare around in amazement. This place is incredible. I can tell which four rooms are the academic classrooms because of the large window that looks into each classroom. Because every room has the lights off, I’m not able to see inside. But still, it’s incredible. I hardly believe what I’m witnessing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I couldn’t even compare it to something else if I tried.  

Right as we near the end of the hallway after passing another line of different rooms, Kalene whips me around a corner into another long corridor. This one looks a lot like the hallway we were just in. There’s definitely a lot more doors though, presumably the dressing rooms.  

“Here we are,” my sister grins. “Dressing rooms.”  

I bite my lip in apprehension, the nerves starting to build once more. It all suddenly seems so much more real. The closer I get to the moment I’m going to have to walk out on to the stage, the closer I get to the auditorium, the more terrified I feel.  

“The end of that other hallway we just came down leads to the elevator and stairs,” Kalene continues. “But this,” she shouts suddenly, “is where the dressing up is!”  

We start to walk again, and I gape at the bright, polished wooden doors and gold plaques with names carved into them.  

“These first five on the left and first five on the right are for the Juniors,” she explains. “That huge black door leads backstage, then the rooms continue on for Minors then Majors.”  

I stare at the unfamiliar names as we walk further down the hallway, keeping an eye open for Kalene’s. She used to talk about these plaques all the time before she finally came here. It was her dream to have one on a door like this. I can’t help but smile when I find her name.  

“Fancy,” I observe as Kalene finds the key to unlock the door.  

“Just wait until you see the inside, little sister,” she smirks, then pushes the door open.  

Kalene’s dressing room looks like something out of a movie. The entire thing looks more like a hair salon than a standard dressing room, and when I stop in shock to stare, I start to wonder if that’s actually what it is. Her own personal hair salon. There’s a sink that washes hair, shelves of hair shampoos and conditioners, and other bottles that I couldn’t even begin to guess what their purpose is. A shelf below has all sorts of face creams, oils, scrubs, and masks that probably cost more than I can imagine. There’s a whole other area of the room that has a large vanity, one of those lightbulb mirrors, and a very comfortable looking chair. I stare dumbly at the thousands of makeup products scattered on nearly every surface.  

“Check this out,” Kalene chirps as she opens one of the vanity drawers, revealing at least twenty different hairbrushes, each one a different shape or size. “There’s twenty-six in here.”  

“Who needs this many brushes?” I ask as I pick one up to examine it.  

“You’d be surprised,” she says, then turns to me again. “Well, this is where I leave you, I guess.”  

I gulp and bite the inside of my cheek nervously. I definitely do not want her to leave. She’s the only thing that’s keeping me calm right now, and I don’t want to have to do this without her. She’ll be out in the audience watching me, but I already know she’s going to feel miles away.  

Kalene smiles at me softly, then suddenly reaches out and tugs me into her tight embrace. I sigh and wrap my arms around her, praying that she’ll just squeeze the nerves right out of me with her tight grip.  

“You’re going to do great, ok?” she whispers confidently. “You’ve worked your ass off, and you deserve it more than anyone else here.” She pulls back and grips my shoulders tightly with a serious look on her face. “The world has taken too much from you, Christi. Don’t let it take this away too.”  

I don’t feel pressure at her words. I just feel even more determined because she’s absolutely right. The world has taken way too much from me, and here I am, ready to take one of the biggest risks of my life. I can’t lose this too. I can’t. There’s a brief spark in my sister’s eyes, one that I’ve never seen before. She wants this just as badly as I do.  

“Someone from stage crew will come to get you when it’s your turn,” Kalene tells me, the strange look in her eyes suddenly gone. “You’ve got a little under an hour. Make sure you do your warmups, then maybe run through your song once. Just remember to keep calm and speak and sing clearly.”  

“Thank you, Kalene,” I tell her earnestly. “For this whole thing. I never would have been here if it weren’t for you.”  

“Don’t give me all the credit,” she winks, then gives me one more long hug. “I love you, little flower. Break a leg.”  

She blows a kiss over her shoulder as she leaves the room, and I give a small wave back.  

The second my sister is gone, I immediately start pacing as my hand flies to my rose necklace. The nerves are suddenly unbearable, almost to the point where I feel like I might pass out. My legs are jelly, my throat is tight, and my stomach is doing summersaults. I try to do the breathing exercise that Dr. Charm showed me, but it’s no use. Nothing is working.  

The forty-five minutes where I wait for someone to come get me are pure agony. I spend the first ten minutes simply trying to calm myself, the next twenty warming up like Kalene suggested, then the last fifteen pacing the room and trying to get my body to stop shaking. Everything in me shakes with fear, and the inside of my cheek is now numb from me biting it.  

When there’s a knock on the door, I jump about a foot in the air and spin around just in time to see a young woman stick her head in the doorway.  

“Christi Rodgers?” she asks and glances down at the clipboard she has in her hand.  

“That’s me,” I somehow choke out, then clear my throat and clench my hands together.  

“You’re up,” she says. “Right this way.”  

She nods for me to follow, and I barely manage to force my legs to move out the door after her. My head is spinning when she pulls open the large black door and directs me backstage. There’s no way I’m about to do this. No way. I cannot see myself walking on that stage in just a second, palms sweating and my entire body shaking. The woman leads me over to the stage entrance, and I’m able to take a moment while she checks my name off her clipboard.  

I can see the bright red curtains and some of the velvet seats from where I stand, and of course, the colossal stage that looks a lot bigger now that I’m not seated in the audience. Distant chatter echoes from the seats, but I can barely hear it. I feel like I’m dreaming. My head is now spinning so badly I can barely think straight, but for a moment, as I glance out there, I’m not that scared. Singing is what I’m good at. I’m good at it, and I love it. That’s all I need in order to be successful. I just need to go out there and sing like I do at home where no one’s watching me.  

“You ready?” the woman suddenly asks, finally glancing over at me.  

I take a deep breath and brush my sweaty hands on my pants. Seeing that stage, seeing everything around me, makes me realize how badly I want this. Never in my life have I ever wanted anything so badly. For my family and friends and for me. I have to do this for myself. No more backing down. Maybe I still can’t believe that I’m actually about to do this, but a small part of me calms down just a bit.  

“Yeah, I’m ready.”  

Kalene is right. I can’t let the universe take this away from me too.  

The woman steps out on the stage, then turns and nods for me to follow. I take one last deep breath, then join her in the bright stage lights.  

The conversation immediately dies down to a whisper as I follow the lady out to the center of the stage where the microphone stand is. My head swivels to the audience, and I nearly stop dead in my tracks. All ten Juniors, ten Minors, and nine Majors sit in the center cluster of seats, and the three coaches as well as another man with white hair and short beard sit in the front row. I knew there were going to be people watching, but not this many people. I try to force down the sick feeling in my stomach and trudge forward.  

I scan the group of students while the microphone stand is adjusted to my height. I don’t recognize any of the Majors, and I’ve never even seen the Minors or Juniors before. The Juniors are easy to pick out since they’re younger, but I can’t really decipher which student is a Minor and which is a Major. Everyone in the seats continues quietly whispering, all except about four of older ones.  

I find the first two who jerk something in the back of my mind, but I’m unable to come up with names. One is a girl with brown, voluminous and curly hair that almost blends in with her brown skin, and the other is a boy with a head of curly hair. They’re both watching me with warm smiles, occasionally muttering something to each other.  

Next to these two sits another boy, this one with a bright golden blonde hair and light skin. He’s leaning forward on the chair in front of him watching me intently. A corner of his mouth lifts up, and I quickly jerk my eyes to find my sister.  

Kalene is the very last one I find even though she’s very easy to pick out from her seat next to Zach and the girl with curly hair. She sits on the edge of her seat, bouncing her knee in anticipation and excitement. I can see her eyes shining from where I stand. Her gaze quickly meets mine, and she raises her hands to give me a very energetic two thumbs up. I smile brightly, then grin softly at Zach who raises a hand in silent greeting.  

“All set,” the woman suddenly says, and I tear my gaze off the audience and back to her. “Break a leg,” she adds, then leaves me shaking at the stand with the huge room of people.  

“Christi Rodgers, correct?” the man with fuzzy white hair and beard asks. I aim my eyes on him. He has an aged face, but soft and kind features.  

“Yes, sir,” I say into the microphone with a nod as I grip the stand tightly to hide my shaking hands.  

He smiles warmly. “You’re a very beautiful young lady.”  

I fight to keep the pink off my cheeks at the random compliment and try my best to force another smile. “Thank you,” I say softly after a moment of fighting to get my voice back.  

“I’m Professor Darious, headmaster of Roanin Academy,” he introduces himself. “On my left here, we have the Juniors coach Ella Manroy and the Minors coach Clarissa Davidson, then on my right, we have the Majors coach Richard Darious, or as people here like to call him, Ricky.” Each coach waves or smiles when they’re introduced. “And behind me are the students that go here, the Majors, Minors, and Juniors.”  

“We’re excited to hear you sing today, Christi,” the Majors coach Ricky speaks up. “Good luck today. You can start whenever you’re ready.”  

I thank them again before the auditorium falls silent, and all eyes are on me.  

My heart is beating so fast I’m sure everyone can hear it, and the giant lead balls roll in my stomach to the point where I feel like I’m about to throw up. I grip the microphone on the stand to steady myself and look out to the audience so I can find my sister. She gives me a determined nod, and I take a deep breath. My head turns downwards and my eyes close for a moment as my music starts.  

Just for a moment, I let my mind fly with events, the events I’ve been through these past two years. The people that I’m singing for today, the people that aren’t with me anymore, and for the Christi that thought her life was never going to turn into anything. For the Christi that I am right now. I have to do this. I have to make it right. Not because I want to, but because I have to.  

I look up with confidence, take a breath, then start singing.  

All nerves fly away the second I start singing. It’s suddenly like the people watching me were never there to begin with. The world around me disintegrates, and it’s just me and the music. All the reasons I love singing blend together. Nothing will go wrong up here. This is where I know I can do something without messing up, where I can be myself and forget whatever I’m trying to keep buried away. The music powers me, the lyrics power me, and I even power myself. I was the one who put this song together. I was the one who forced my feet forward on to this stage.  

The end comes a lot quicker than I expected it to. It’s like I’m coming off a rollercoaster. My cheeks feel warm and flushed, and everything inside me feels light. When I finish, the microphone is off the stand and in my hand. I definitely don’t remember doing that. Smiling to myself, I shake my head in disbelief. Then I suddenly remember where I am, not alone in my bedroom, and my head snaps up and back to the audience.  

Every person sits motionless, shock written across their faces. I freeze, not sure what I’m supposed to do now. No one is moving, no one is saying anything. They’re all just staring at me. The adrenaline I was feeling just a moment ago is completely gone. The nightmares of failure flash before me, and I try to prepare myself for the worst.  

Then suddenly, at the exact same time, everyone is on their feet. My mouth falls open in shock. It’s like the room becomes ten times brighter, and everyone is suddenly roaring with applause. I nearly drop the microphone. I’m completely speechless. My eyes find Kalene jumping up and down looking beyond proud, and I nearly start to cry. Someone blows a whistle, and Ricky gives me a thumbs up with a bright smile. All weights and butterflies and nausea leave me. I did it. They actually liked it. Everyone is on their feet cheering for me. I don’t believe it. After all I’ve done, after everything I’ve done to get to this point, I finally made it.  

“Was that an F6 I heard?” Ricky questions as the cheering starts to die down and everyone takes their seat again.  

I nod shyly because I’m physically incapable of forming words.  

“And an E flat 6?” asks Ella, and I nod again.  

“How old are you, Christi?” Ricky speaks again.  

“Seventeen.”  

I hear a distant, “No way!” come from the audience, and I bite the inside of my cheek timidly.  

“You sounded amazing, Christi,” Clarissa says politely. “I don’t think I could critique it if I wanted to.”  

“You have a very beautiful voice,” Professor Darious tells me and smiles kindly. “Very nice control and range. Well done.” 

“We’ll let you know the results in about half an hour,” Ricky adds. “Amazing audition today. Thanks for coming out.”  

“Thank you so much,” I say shakily, then finally place the microphone back on the stage.  

Kalene stands up to cheer me off, and I feel a brief wave of embarrassment before everyone else stands too. I glance out to the applauding crowed, trying my hardest to imprint the memory in my head. The look on everyone’s face, their applause, this feeling that I’ve never felt in my entire life. I don’t want to forget it. I turn my head after a long moment, then take another step to the woman who waits backstage.  

“Great job, Christi,” she tells me. “I’ll take you back to Kalene’s dressing room, then someone will get you in about thirty more minutes with the results.” I thank her, and she nods politely. “You sounded great. Good luck.”  

She leaves me alone in Kalene’s dressing room, and I immediately fall backwards into the chair. I break out into a huge smile and press my cool hands to my burning cheeks. There’s no way that just happened. I totally crushed that. I may actually have a chance at making this thing. And God, I really hope I make it. I’ve never felt so at home, so free, then when I was up on that stage. Everything around me just disappeared. My problems, my tragedies, the people around me, everything. To think that I could have that all summer . . . that would mean everything.  

Even though I still really want this, I don’t think it would hurt as much if I don’t make it. I know that I gave it everything I had, and quite honestly, I’d be perfectly content with the memory I have of performing in front of all those people. The longer I think about it, the more excited I get. Excited that I actually got up on that stage and sang in front of all those people. I can’t wait to tell my father about it.  

I shake my head at myself and spin around in the chair. I don’t know how I can possibly sit here for any longer, and it’s only been five minutes since the stage crew lady left me here. I’m still a little bit nervous as I sit here, unsure of what to do with myself while I wait. I can still feel that small tingle of nerves, but it’s nothing like before. Right now, I want to jump up and down and laugh in the world’s face. Happiness feels strange now that it’s bubbling in my stomach and spreading through my insides like hot liquid. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.  

I’m not sure what I’m going to do if I don’t make it, if I don’t have something that could give me a little nudge forward. Dr. Charm would tell me to try again and find something else to push me. I have to agree with her. Going back to the world I was living in just yesterday doesn’t sound right. I don’t want to have to rely on anxiety pills and antidepressants, I don’t want to live in my world of nightmares, I don’t want to live in fear. I don’t want to have that reality tomorrow whether I make the play or not. I want something new, something to help me get my life back together just like Molly did. I just don’t know how I’m going to change that without this opportunity.  

A good thirty minutes passes until I hear a small knock on the door. I suddenly jump out of my seat like it just caught on fire. My hands interlock tightly, then I take a deep breath. It’s the results. It has to be.  

“Come in.”  

The door creaks open, and my sister steps inside with a small smile. Just like typical Kalene, her expression is hard to read. There’s no telling what happened, what she’s about to tell me. She just looks completely normal. She’s the one who’s going to give me the news. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.  

“Hey, Christi,” she greets me as she closes the door behind her. “How are you doing?”  

“Good,” I answer quickly, still watching her attentively in case something in her face changes.  

“You were absolutely fantastic,” she gushes, and hints of pride flash across her face. “That was really incredible. It had to be one of your best performances yet. Everyone was really impressed.”  

“Thanks,” I breathe, and the grip on my hands tightens.  

“I was just sent to tell you congratulations,” she tells me nonchalantly, then takes a small step closer to me.  

My breathing halts and my heart drops all the way to my feet. “Wait, what?”  

There’s no hiding it now as my sister’s face morphs from its calm expression to one of pure pride and joy.  

“You did it, Christi,” she whispers, then takes another step. “You did it. You got the role. They chose you.”  

I don’t believe it. My mouth falls open, and Kalene lets out something between a laugh and a squeal. I’m still unable to register what I just heard as she lunges at me and grabs me so tightly I can’t breathe.  

“Oh my God,” I squeak out as my sister laughs joyfully in my ear, and I limply wrap my arms around her.  

I’m still in complete shock, but with every second that passes, it really starts to soak in. I did it. I made it. I’m going to be in a Roanin Academy play. I don’t even try to stop the tears of happiness and relief that fill my eyes and spill down my face. Kalene hugs me tightly as her beautiful laugh rings through the room.  

“You did it, Christi,” she cries triumphantly. “You absolutely smashed it, little sister!”  

She finally breaks away and starts doing some weird happy dance. All I’m able to do is stand there with my mouth hanging open.  

“You’re going to be Lettie Lutz!” she yells in a sing-song voice, and it finally seems to hit me.  

“Oh my God!” I scream, and Kalene roars with laughter as she seizes my hands and pulls me around the room. I yank her into another hug, and she shrieks as she shakes me like a rag doll. “You did it, Christi! You did it!”  

I shake my head and grip onto her tightly. I don’t believe it. I must be dreaming. I actually did it. She finally let’s go so I can breathe and starts to wipe my tear-stained face with her thumbs.  

“I’m so damn proud of you, little sister,” she says emotionally, and I’m wildly surprised when I see her eyes watering too. I’ve only ever seen my sister cry a few times.  

“Are you crying, Kalene?” I ask with a tearful chuckle and poke her stomach.  

“No,” she says dismissively, then hastily wipes her eyes. “Ok, maybe just a little. I’m just so proud of you. You’ve come so far, and you finally made it, and it’s just making me a little emotional that’s all.”  

I grin at her words and hold her hands tightly. “Thank you, Kalene,” I tell her. “Really. None of this would have happened without you.”  

She sniffs and wipes her eyes again. “Enough crying. We should probably go now,” she says. “Professor Darious asked to see you in his office.”   

I nod and she takes my hand to pull me out into the hallway. Instead of turning left towards the Juniors dressing rooms and back the way we came, she goes right so we’re at the end of the dressing room hallway. Now there are two new hallways on either side of me.  

“If you turn right, it takes you to the elevator and stares too,” Kalene tells me. “But we’re going left,” she adds, and whips me down the longer of the two hallways. “This is where all the teacher offices are. Professor Darious’s is right down here.”  

I feel like I’m on could nine. Like I’m floating. I still can’t process what just happened. I made it. I actually made it. Trying to concentrate on something to remind myself that this is real life, I look around at the doors around me. The staff members have their names on their door just like the dressing rooms. My sister and I walk about halfway down the hallway until we finally stop. When we reach the office that belongs to Professor Darious, Kalene let’s go of my hand to knock on the door.  

“Come in,” a voice calls, and she walks right in with me trailing behind her.  

Professor Darious has a large office with a cluttered desk where he sits in a tall chair, a large bookshelf that takes almost an entire wall, and three large filing cabinets on the wall across from it.  

Ricky, Clarissa, and Ella are all standing around the professor’s desk looking like there were in the midst of a conversation. They all smile when I walk in. When my eyes shift around some more, I spot the boy with golden blonde hair I saw in the audience earlier. He’s standing by the three filing cabinets with his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed at the ground. He looks up the second my eyes land on him, and he gives me a small grin. I take a moment to struggle with his memory again but give up when Professor Darious starts talking.  

“Hello, Christi,” Professor Darious speaks up, and I turn to look at him again. “Come and have a seat, my dear.”  

I sit down in one of the chairs across from his desk and fold my hands together in my lap. Kalene takes this as her que to leave, so she gives me an encouraging nod and tells me to meet her back in the entrance when I’m finished.  

“Congratulations on the role, Christi,” Professor Darious says once my sister is gone. “I’m sure I can speak for everyone when I say I’m very excited to have you join us this summer.”  

“Thank you,” I say as clearly as possible.  

“First order of business,” he starts as he shuffles a stack of paper on his desk. “You’re expected to arrive here every morning Monday through Friday at 9:40 a.m. There will be a week each month where the school is on vacation, which I’m sure you know from Kalene, so you don’t have to come in then. I wrote down the dates for you.” He hands me a sheet of paper, and I glance down at it.  

“On the paper is also your schedule,” Ricky jumps in as he comes to stand above me. “Gabriel over here will meet you in the entrance every morning to take you up to the Juniors coaching room where the rest of the students will be. You won’t have to worry about where anything is because all you need to do is follow the students for the day.”  

The moment Ricky says his name, the memory of Gabriel Walker comes flashing back to my mind. He was the number one Major I saw at Kalene’s first end of year concert, the Major I thought had the most incredible voice ever. I briefly glance over my shoulder to look at his face, and the moment I meet his eyes for a brief second, I distinctly remember him. We stare at each other for a moment, then my face starts to heat up and I quickly turn back around.  

“You’ll have an acting class for an hour led by Ella in the Juniors’ coaching room,” Ricky continues, “an hour of dance class in the Minors’ dance studio, lunch for an hour, song rehearsal with me in the Majors’ coaching room, then one big rehearsal in the auditorium for three hours.”  

“The students have free period and then dinner, so that’s when you can go home if you’d like,” Clarissa jumps in. “We’re welcome to stay with them through dinner. We may occasionally ask you to stay for free period, but for the most part, you should be out by five.”  

“We’re going to wait a few weeks before announcing to the public that you’re joining us,” Ricky quickly adds. “It will give you some time to get adjusted. You may experience a little more attention than you’re used to, but we do a pretty good job of keeping our students away from that.”  

Something inside me relaxes at his words when he confirms one of my worst fears, the reason I almost didn’t do this play, is nothing to worry about. It won’t be as bad as I was expecting. Ricky goes over the school’s policies and stuff like that, talks more about what I’ll be doing while I’m here, then turns to Professor Darious to make sure he didn’t leave anything out.  

“That about sums it up,” Professor Darious concludes. “Any questions?”  

I pause for a moment before shaking my head. “Thank you for this opportunity,” I stutter. “This is . . . incredible. Thank you.”  

“Our pleasure,” Professor Darious smiles as he stands to shake my hand. “It was very nice to meet you, Christi. We’ll see you tomorrow.”  

“It was nice to meet you too,” I reply. “Thank you again.”  

I shake hands with the three coaches, timidly wave goodbye to Gabriel, then leave with my head spinning.  

A million thoughts race through my mind at the exact same time. I still can’t seem to wrap my head around what has happened in the past few hours. How did my life change so quickly? How did I go from waking up terrified and shaking to joining a Roanin Academy play? I’m still feeling giddy when I picture my father’s reaction as soon as I tell him I made it. He’s going to be so happy.  

I shake my head and my smile widens the slightest bit as I slowly walk down the hallway back to the entrance. My arms happily swing in front of me, and I still feel incredibly light. This can’t be real, right? There’s no way that just happened. I can’t stop picturing the whole thing in my head again, walking up on that stage, getting a standing ovation, walking off, having Kalene come to tell me that I made it, then walking down to Professor Darious’s office. My excitement grows when I picture myself telling Taylor, Maya, and Emily how palace-like this place is, the look of pride of Dr. Charm’s face. Molly’s happiness, Penny’s excitement. They all wanted it for me more than anything.  

“Christi!”  

I suddenly turn my head at the sound of my name and stop walking when I see Gabriel Walker jogging to catch up to me. Even though I barely know him as a celebrity, I still feel like he’s walking to me with some sort of stardom glow. Does every Major look like this?

My stomach starts to flipflop nervously as I wrap my finger around the chain of my nose necklace. The second he smiles and comes to stand in front of me nervously, I gulp. He’s probably used to people reacting like this around him. I feel incredibly stupid for doing so considering I barely know who he is, but there’s something about him that makes me feel ten times less important and popular.  

He looks a lot different up close rather than from a distance on the stage. His golden blonde hair looks the same, but he’s a lot taller now that he’s standing in front of me. Still the same as last year, though. Tall, lean, and muscular. There are new things I notice now, like his blue eyes and sharp but still kind face. The longer I stand there like an idiot just staring at him, the more normal he seems to me. The celebrity glow I felt earlier seems to fade a little, and he’s just a normal person.  

“I just wanted to tell you that you did a great job today,” he tells me kindly.  

His talking voice is just as clear and perfect as I remember his singing voice to be, and I suddenly feel like there’s no way I’m going to be able to fit in with people like him at this school. If they’re all this flawless, I’m done for. Just a second ago, I was overjoyed and elated that I made it here. Now, I’m already second guessing it.  

“Thanks,” I finally stutter shyly and look down to my feet.  

“You’re welcome,” he says, then there’s a long pause where I just stand there and stare at the ground awkwardly. “I think you’re going to great here this summer. Everyone’s excited to meet you.”  

I finally get the courage to look at him and swallow again.  “Yeah. Thanks.”  

“It was nice to meet you,” he adds. “I should probably let you get back to your sister before she comes leaping around the corner.” I crack a grin and let out a strange, choked out laugh. He’s actually funny, and apparently knows my sister very well. That’s totally something she would do. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”  

“Yeah, I better get going,” I agree. “See you tomorrow.”  

He smiles and waves one last time, then I watch him turn around and walk back down the hallway to where the elevators and stairs are. I let out a breath once he’s disappeared around the corner. Wow. This whole thing is beyond crazy.  

I shake my head, but I’m smiling the slightest bit. I never really did realize how quickly things change, how fast everything can turn around. I haven’t even been here a full day, and I’m already realizing things I never thought I would see again.  

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. 

As I lay in bed later that night, I can’t seem to get my mind to stop racing. Sure, I’m used to it by now, but this time, it’s different. Normally, I can’t go to sleep because I’m scared to, or I’m so lost in my own head that it’s impossible to close my eyes. But this time, I’m not dreading sleep. A part of me doesn’t want this perfect day to end with a nightmare, but for once in my life, I’m actually excited for the next day. I finally have something to look forward to. I am still a little nervous about it, but there’s too much enthusiasm for me to be scared.  

The events of today replay in my head as I lay here and stare up at the ceiling. The nerves I felt, the people sitting in the audience, the singing, getting the part, and of course, the excitement of my friends and family when I told them. My father, who was the first person I told, was the happiest I’ve ever seen him. He cheered and yelled and hugged me until I told him to calm down. Later, he took me out for dinner to celebrate. Molly was the second person I told, and she was extremely happy for me as well. Dr. Charm spent a good five minutes telling me how proud she was, Penny was definitely the most energetic about it, and Taylor, Maya, and Emily screamed in my ear and danced around my room like crazy.  

Today was definitely the best day ever. Everything that I was given in such a short amount of time, everything that I earned for myself, it all finally feels like I’m catching up to the world. I finally feel like things are really about to change, that life is no longer passing by without me. That I’m seriously about to do this, be in a Roanin Academy play, and it’s really going to put me back on track.  

When I wake up to my alarm the next morning, I don’t feel as panicked as I normally do when I wake up from a nightmare. I’m not sweating and shaking, and even though my heart is still wildly pounding, I feel like I’ve already accomplished a lot today. This is the first time I haven’t woken up in a crazy panic.  

I silence my alarm and jump out of bed. It doesn’t take me a moment to remember the events of yesterday, because they’re already burned in my memory forever. I smile the slightest bit as they flash through my brain, then move around my room to get ready for today. It’s a little scary having no idea what I’m really getting myself into. The irrational thoughts of not being as good as anyone else come to me, but then I remember that they choose me for a reason. They wouldn’t pick me if they didn’t think I could do it. But what if this whole thing isn’t what I think it is? What if it’s too hard, what if they’re wrong about me, what if I freak out, what if all the students there are mean?  

No, I can’t think like that. I’m probably just overthinking it. I can handle this; I know I can. If I was able to make it through the nerves and anxiety of that audition, I can make it through the nerves and anxiety of anything else. And the students can’t be that bad. Kalene would never put up with that, even if it meant giving up her dream of going there. If there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s mean people. If even one person there was the slightest bit rude, she’d make sure they knew. I mean, look at how much she hated Maria. And I know her and Zach, and I even talked a little bit to Gabriel yesterday. He seemed perfectly fine, and both Kalene and Zach are great people.  

I shake my head as I make my way downstairs to the kitchen. Today is going to be fun, and I’m not about to ruin that with my stupid brain.  

I’m definitely not as nervous as I was yesterday when I pull into the parking lot a few minutes before 9:40. A small part of my stomach still flipflops, but it’s a lot easier to push aside this time. As I walk up to the front doors, I tell myself that this is going to be fine, that I’m going to have fun, that I’m nervous for no reason.  

Gabriel is already waiting for me as promised when I make it inside. He looks up when the door closes behind me and smiles. See, there’s no need to be scared. He’s nice.  

“Hi,” he says as he stands from one of the couches.  

“Hi,” I say back as I shuffle over to him while simultaneously glancing around the entrance. Even though I’ve now seen it a few times, every time I walk into this room I’m blown away.  

“Ready?” he asks as he rubs his hands together excitedly. “You’re in for quite the treat today.” I nod nervously and grip the straps of my bad to give my hands something to do. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to torture you,” he smirks as we start to walk down a hallway to the stairs. I know he’s joking, but I still gulp. “You’re going to have fun.”  

I don’t know how to reply to that, so instead I look around the hallway again. This is the one with the academic classes, the one Kalene first took me down the other day. Gabriel and I walk in silence down the long hallway, and I can feel the stardom glow around him somehow flip on again. I can picture a million girls giving anything to be standing where I am now. I try my hardest to slink back in the shadows to avoid feeling so small next to him, but he must sense how shy I’m getting because he starts talking to me again.  

“On another note,” Gabriel starts again, and I quickly turn my head forward, “tell me about yourself, Christi. What are your hobbies? Where do you go to school?”  

I swallow nervously, trying to fight down the panic at having to answer these questions. These are the types of things I was hoping to avoid, as stupid as that sounds. The personal questions are going to be the ones that expose me, the questions that reveal I am definitely not your normal teenage girl. I take a second to wrack my brain for the most normal answers I can think of.  

“There’s not much to know,” I shrug. That’s definitely not true. There’s a lot to know, I just don’t want him to know that. “Um, I play piano. And I bake. I don’t really go to a public school either, I’m tutored at home. Sort of like homeschooling, but with an actual teacher.”  

“Cool.” I let out a breath of relief. The glow around him disappears, and he’s just a normal person again. “The Majors will love that you bake,” he continues, and I finally look over at him just as the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “Myself included. All of us have a huge sweet tooth.”  

“If you’re anything like Kalene, I’ll be making a cake for everyone.”  

I mentally slap myself for saying something so stupid, but Gabriel laughs loudly. “Ha! You can be funny.”  

I bite the inside of my cheek and continue to follow him to the end of the hallway where the stairs and elevators are.  

“Everyone’s finishing breakfast right now, so we’ll beat them upstairs,” Gabriel tells me as he pushes the up button on one of the two elevators. “We’re headed up to the second floor, or the Juniors floor, to their coaching room just like Ricky told you yesterday.” The elevator dings open, and both of us step inside. “The Minors and Majors floors are above this,” Gabriel continues as soon as we step out onto the Juniors floor.  

I stare around some more. This floor is laid out similarly to the entrance with the two hallways on either side walls and two doors directly across.  

“The Minors and Majors floors above us are laid out the same as the Juniors,” he adds. “The left door ahead of us leads into their sitting room, then the one on the right is the dance studio.” I nod as I try to take in what’s around me. “That hallway on the that side leads the bedrooms are, but we’re going this way.”  

I follow Gabriel as we turn right instead of left. The hallway here is similarly laid out like the one’s downstairs, but this time, it’s not quite as long. There are five doors on both the left and right walls with the Juniors’ names on their assigned room, similar to the dressing rooms.  

“These are the studios,” Gabriel tells me when he spots me looking at them.  

“This is where you guys write your music, right?” I ask.  

“Written and recorded.”  

The door at the very end of the hallway doesn’t have any plaques or names on it, so I’m guessing this is the coaching room. Gabriel opens the door and holds it open, and sure enough, we step inside the coaching room.  

The room itself is huge. There’s a high ceiling, tiled floor, and painted walls which is already impressive. A large whiteboard takes up a good portion of the wall across from me, and a large desk that’s probably for Ella sits in the far corner with multiple shelves and cabinets behind it.  

“Wow,” I whisper as I move to stand in the middle of the room. Ten desks are seated across from the whiteboard on the same wall with the door, all them having a large banner over what I’m guessing is their assigned desk. They almost remind me of the senior banners they had at my old school for the football team.  

“Pretty neat, huh?”  

I look over to Gabriel as he closes the door behind him and plops down in the nearest desk. “This is awesome,” I say as I continue to spin around and take in the room. “Those banners are cool.”  

“They are,” he agrees. “I remember when I had a banner in here.”  

“You were a Junior?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.  

I mentally slap myself for the second time today. Of course, he was a Junior, I’m sure everyone in the entire world knows that. Yet again, I sound like an idiot. Maybe I should have done some more research before I came here considering I know absolutely nothing about anyone here except my sister.  

“Yeah, I was a Junior,” he smiles fondly, seemingly completely unphased that I didn’t know that. “I joined this place when I was eleven.”  

“That’s the youngest age you can join, right?”  

“Yeah,” he says. “I love it here, always have, but sometimes I wish I didn’t join so early. I missed a lot, you know?”  

I guess I kind of do. While there are certain parts of my own childhood I definitely wish I could erase with something cool like this, I sort of understand where he’s coming from. And if I remember correctly, he was already doing things like Broadway before he came here. He missed all that kid stuff, the playing outside and making friends. When I think about erasing all those fun times I had with my sister, all the kid stuff, I guess it does kind of suck.  

“I guess so,” I say finally.  

“I’ve got to say, I love it here,” he grins as he stretches his arms over his head. “You’re going to have fun this summer.”  

I open my mouth to respond, but immediately close it when I hear a loud chatter suddenly come from outside. My head shoots to the door in sudden alarm.  

“Sounds like the Majors are here first,” Gabriel smirks as he follows my gaze to the door.  

“How can you tell?” I ask, and he laughs.  

“Only the Majors are that loud. You might want to brace yourself, or better yet, take cover.”  

“What are you—”  

The door crashes open before I get the chance to finish, and the other eight Majors come storming in like a herd of buffalo, all chatting and laughing very loudly. I jump, freeze up in shock, then everyone’s eyes are suddenly on me.  

“Little sister!” Kalene shrieks from somewhere in the mob of people, then suddenly comes barreling towards me out of the blue. Before I even get the chance to process what’s happening, my sister scoops me up into a bone-crushing hug.  

“Kalene,” I choke as I desperately try to pry her arms off me. “Can’t—breathe.”  

“Oops. Sorry ‘bout that.” She let’s go and steps back with a grin.  

“You must be Christi,” one of the other Majors calls out from somewhere, and a girl with bleach blonde hair and near perfect face steps out from the crowd. “I’m Lauren Cooper,” she greets me.  

Just like with Gabriel, her memory comes back to me too. She was one of the number two Majors.  

“You’re really pretty,” she says sweetly. I blush and mutter a quiet thank you.  

“Ellie Josh,” another girl steps up, and her memory comes back to me too. She’s a number four. Her red hair is cut into a wavy bob, and I now notice several ear piercings and a nose ring that I didn’t catch before. She has pointed eyebrows and small eyes that make her face look sharp and rather intimidating.  

“I love your necklace,” Ellie adds with a friendly smile. “What do you think, Ari, isn’t it awesome?”  

She reaches behind her and grabs another girl, one I recognize from the audience yesterday, the one with frizzy, curly light brown hair and brown skin.  

“It’s beautiful,” she observes, then looks up to me with a warm greeting. “Hi, Christi. I’m Ariana Bernett. Nice to meet you.” Her name triggers the memory of her being the number five.  

“You too,” I barely get out before someone new pops up.  

“Hey, Christi. Sean Moon,” a short boy with blonde hair says to me, and I now recognize him as the number four.  

“Ethan Commet,” yet another boy comes in, this one with chocolatey brown skin and short black hair. The other number two. “Pleased to meet you.”  

I nod, feeling rather dazed and overwhelmed by all these people. My head is starting to pound from the memories jumping to the front of my mind, but I force myself to not step back or cover my ears.  

“Jeez, don’t crowd the poor girl,” says another boy as he steps in front of me to push everyone back. I smile the slightest bit, and he turns around to shake my hand.  

“Sorry about them,” he says. “I’m Logan Nadel.” He’s the other person who I saw at my audition, the other number five with curly brown hair piled on top of his head.  

“Nice to meet you,” I say.  

“I like you,” Ellie randomly says as she shoves Logan out of the way to talk to me again.  

“Thanks,” I respond awkwardly.  

“You’ve met Zach I’m sure,” Lauren jumps in as well.  

“And that knucklehead over there,” Sean adds as he jerks his thumb over to where Gabriel is talking to Zach.  

“Cool scar,” Ethan observes as he points to the hideous scar that runs up the entire length of my forearm. Oh, good God, I forgot to wear sleeves. “How’d you get it?”  

I freeze up and quickly press my forearm to my stomach to hide it. This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for my answer. I’m too terrified to even speak.  

“She fell out of a tree when we were little,” Kalene quickly comes in to save me. “It was crazy. 150 stitches.”  

“That’s wild,” Ethan gasps. “You should tell people you got in a fight with a bear. Or a shark.”  

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sean shakes his head. “Tell them you fought off a robber. Or you tore your arm open in a rock-climbing accident. Or—”  

“Tell them your sister bit you!” Gabriel calls out from the back of the room, and Kalene scoffs.  

“My mouth is not that big, you—”  

“That’s enough,” Logan cuts in as he herds the Majors back from me again. “Calm down, will you?”  

I chuckle nervously and slowly peel my arm away from my stomach. This is definitely not what I was expecting. They’re all very nice to me, and they all act like completely normal people. A little crazy, but normal.  They all talk to me while we wait for the Juniors and Minors to arrive, then it takes some time to meet all of them and learn their names. But not one person seems rude or unhappy that I’m there. They all welcome me, make me feel included, and keep me in their conversation as we wait a few minutes for the coaches to arrive.  

Lauren is the one who talks to me the most. She tells me enormous amounts about herself, and it relieves me that I don’t have to do any of the sharing just yet. As she continues talking loudly, Ricky, Clarissa, and Ella all arrive a few minutes later with a stack of twenty chairs for the Majors and Minors.  

“Grab a seat,” Ricky instructs. “And Gabriel, please let Zach out of a headlock,” he adds, not looking up from his clipboard like those words are completely normal.  

Lauren and I both look over to where Gabriel does indeed have Zach in a headlock and is ruffling his hair playfully. He looks after Ricky smiling sheepishly, then smirks down at Zach and gives him a small shove forward so he goes toppling into the stack of chairs.  

“It’s a normal occurrence,” Lauren tells me as if reading my mind. “Those two are quite the duo. The longer you’re here, the more you’ll see it.”  

“It’s kind of amusing,” I observe.  

“Oh, it definitely is,” she agrees. “They have plenty of stories to tell you about their misadventures.”  

I shake my head as I follow her to get my chair and jump out of the way as Zach chases after Gabriel with his chair above his head. Everyone else in the room just continues on like nothing is happening. I guess this is something normal.  

“I swear to God it’s like they’re back in preschool,” Logan huffs in annoyance as he marches after them. “Such an embarrassment.”  

“Logan is the dad of the Majors in case you couldn’t tell,” Ariana leans over to whisper to me. “He’s actually the dad of the whole school.”  

She laughs loudly and I smile as Gabriel joking pokes at Logan’s side from where he’s plopped his chair down next to him.  

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Ella calls from the front of the room, and everyone suddenly goes quiet. “We’ve got script and song books to hand out today. Gabriel and Zach, why don’t you come use that energy to distribute?”  

Everyone laughs as they shoot out of their seats and race to the front of the room.  

I stare down in shock at the two ginormous books of script and lyrics I’m given. I’m briefly stunned for a moment at the sheer size, but then I start freaking out over how I’m going to memorize this entire thing.  

“We’ll start with the full production this afternoon during full rehearsal. Your three classes will be used for set pieces and the specifics,” Ella calls to the room as everyone continues to receive their books. “For example, this class specifically will be used for lessons in acting, not for you to memorize your lines or work on developing your character. That is all up to you. At this level, you are expected to be able to do that on your own. The full rehearsal will be for lines.”  

“Dance will be held the same way,” Clarissa speaks. “We will be doing more of the choreography that has to do with the play rather than lessons, unlike acting which is strictly for learning. We will, however, start with some basic lessons the first week or so, then move to the choreography that you need for certain scenes.”  

“You should get the same idea for vocal,” Ricky says as he paces the room. “Again, we’re doing more vocal progression than working on the actual songs. That’s also for group rehearsal. We may take a class here or there to polish some things up on a song if needed, but for the most part, it’s going to be lessons.”  

Everyone nods, I gulp, and Ella starts to explain what we’re going to be doing for the next hour. Another pit of nervousness lodges itself in my stomach after the little speech from Ella, Clarissa, and Ricky. This entire thing is really professional. I better hope that I’m able to keep up with it all, or else I’m done for. I’m not about to lose this spot after working so hard to get here. I’ll just pay attention, do what they tell me, and pray to God that I have some hidden talent for this whole thing.  

I glance sideways from where I’m squeezed between my sister and Lauren. The entire body of students is now quiet and listening rapidly, even the Majors, who were just running around and screaming a few seconds ago. Gabriel is watching with his arms crossed casually, and Zach is calmly writing a note down in his script book.  

I pay an extreme amount of attention the entire lesson. I watch everyone around me to see what they’re doing, trying to get a better idea of how to handle this whole acting thing. Ella breaks us off into smaller groups of four or five, then gives us a few activities relating to her lesson on expression. I work with Lauren, two Minors, and a Junior, which I guess makes it a little easier starting off with something smaller instead of having to do this in front of everyone. I’m able to keep up with my group, and Lauren actually seems impressed by my little experience in acting.  

“You’re really good at this Christi,” she tells me with a smile. “Have you done acting before?”  

“Does the first grade Christmas play count?”  

She laughs loudly, and I smile the slightest bit. “Sure, it can count. I’m being serious though. You’ve caught on to this really fast.”  

That definitely makes me feel a lot better. The entire rest of the hour, I’m no longer nervous that I’m completely failing this. All of a sudden, everything is a lot more fun.  

Once acting is over, I follow everyone upstairs for dance in the Minors’ studio. This is the class I’m the most worried for. I still have the occasional problem with my legs, and even though I know how to stay on beat and follow direction, I’m worried that my legs are just going to decide to quit on me. I don’t even want to think about the questions I’m going to be asked about that. But my ability to walk hasn’t really crashed in a while. I haven’t had any real problems in a few months, the likelihood of that happening this summer is small. But not impossible.  

“Are you doing ok so far?” Kalene asks me as we continue to walk upstairs. “Everyone being nice?”  

“Yeah, it’s great,” I answer honestly. “I’m having fun. This whole dancing thing is what I’m most nervous about.”  

“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a wave of her hand. “As long as you can stay on beat, it’ll be fine. It helps to watch everyone else too. If you’re not great, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. You pick things up pretty quickly.”  

Just like I did for acting, I pay a lot of attention and watch everyone else around me. We don’t do that much dancing today, but I still take note on everything around me. Lauren, who is clearly the most talented dancer here, performs for us at the very end. When I watch her bend in ways that make me sick, I surprisingly don’t feel too discouraged. Everyone cheers for her as she dances in the middle of the circle of people, and I smile the most I have in a long time.  

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” I ask her as we walk down to lunch at the end of the hour. “That was incredible.”  

“Thanks,” she grins at me. “I was a professional dancer before I joined the Academy. I still like to keep up with it.”  

“Really? That’s awesome.”  

“Yeah. I could have gone really far with it, I guess, but singing was my passion too. I’m glad I came here.” 

I continue to talk casually with Lauren as we walk all the way downstairs back to the entrance floor, then down to a floor below that to the cafeteria for lunch. The floor is set up like every other level, except this time, there are doors that lead to the new hallways.  

“Those two doors are locked,” Lauren tells me when she catches me looking at them. “It’s where the teacher rooms are. They weren’t always locked. You can thank Gabriel and Zach for that.”  

“I’m sure they’ll gladly tell you the story,” Logan chimes in with an amused smile when he catches me staring back at Lauren questioningly.  

I continue to follow everyone straight ahead to the door on the left, then file inside the cafeteria behind Logan. I was expecting something grand and spectacular, but this is incredible. It’s a large room with very high ceilings and darks colors that kind of give off a coffee shop vibe. There are three main tables that sit each group, then a few other random tables that sit around three to four people. The more I glance around, the more food options I see. Everything is set up buffet style, but it’s organized so grilled things like hamburgers are in one section and sandwiches are in another. There’s another area that has pizza, another with pasta, and a section with just about every drink you can think of.  

“It’s cheesecake day!” Gabriel cheers loudly and pumps his fists in the air. “Come here, Christi, you’ve got to try their cheesecake. It’s amazing.”  

After Gabriel shoves a piece of cheesecake on my plate and I get the rest of my lunch, Ellie pushes me to the middle of the Majors table while everyone else piles around me. They don’t hesitate to start conversation, and everything is suddenly loud again. I sit in an awkward silence, not sure what to make of all this. I haven’t been anywhere this loud or energetic in a long time, and I really have no idea how to handle it. The life I’m used to is quiet and calm. Definitely not like this. Kalene spots my shyness, gives me a wink, and pulls me into the conversation.  

The Majors make sure I’m included in their conversation, but they don’t force me to talk when I get shy or uncomfortable with the conversation. I feel briefly embarrassed by my lack of speech, but I can’t force myself to add to the energy of it all. It doesn’t seem to bother them though. They tell me about themselves instead.  

Gabriel and Ethan both talk about the volleyball league they play in on the weekends, Ellie tells me about her huge family of ten brothers and sisters, and Sean is apparently really smart and loves doing crosswords and puzzles. Ariana is a very talented artist, Zach is obsessed with Legos, and Logan, who everyone continuously refers to the parent of the group, loves to collect comics. Lauren talks about her YouTube channel that has a large group of subscribers, and since I already know a lot about Kalene, she tells me some of her stories about the Academy I’ve never heard before. The small, most random things about the Majors make me smile the most. It’s these things that make me less nervous around them and less sure that they’re only celebrities. They’re really great people too.  

“Gabriel and Zach also cause the most trouble here in case you couldn’t tell,” Logan says with a disapproving look. I smile when I follow his gaze to where Zach is throwing grapes for Gabriel to catch in his mouth. “I wish I could tell you about every single time they’ve gotten in trouble, but it would take hours.”  

“One of the best had to be the locked doors story we were talking about earlier,” Lauren adds. “Hey, Gabriel!” Gabriel catches another grape in his mouth then looks at her. “Tell Christi the story about the locked doors,” she demands, and a wicked grin spreads across Gabriel’s face. Zach groans and buries his face in his hands.  

“We do not need to tell that story for the hundredth time.”  

“It’s a fantastic story,” Gabriel says excitedly. “And Christi hasn’t heard it yet.” Zach sighs again as Gabriel rests his elbows on the table and grins.  

“A few years ago, back when Zach and I were Juniors, we spent an afternoon wandering the school because we were bored,” Gabriel begins. “We had no idea what the hallway with the teacher rooms was, so we decided to scope it out and see what was down there. So, the two of us walked downstairs, looked around some, then Zach decided to—”  

“Hold up,” Zach interrupts sounding rather irritated. “It was not my idea. You were the one who wanted to snoop—”  

“That’s beside the point,” Gabriel says, then looks back at me. “Anyways, long story short, we decided to check out one the rooms. Turns out, it was a bedroom. Ricky’s bedroom, to be exact.”  

My eyes widen, but Gabriel just continues to grin and shakes his head lightly.  

“We couldn’t believe it, I mean, no one new that this is where the coaches stay. It was like we struck gold. Then, Zach had this idea to—”  

“We have very different versions of this story,” Zach interrupts again. “That was definitely your idea, not mine.”  

“Whatever,” Gabriel dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Something to know about Ricky; he’s deadly afraid of spiders. Well, Zach and I—”  

“I did not encourage this by any means!”  

“—decided to pull a little prank on him and put a handful of these fake spiders in one of his drawers.”  

“Really?” I ask in disbelief. “Did you get caught?”  

“For the first few weeks, no one said anything,” Gabriel tells me. “But then about five weeks after our little prank, Zach and I were called to Ricky’s office. He must have found them, because he showed us the security footage of us going into his room and gave it to us. Then at the end of the year, Zach was signed as his new Major, and eventually, I joined him again. Hilarious, right?”  

“I still don’t understand how you two didn’t get expelled,” Logan says furiously. “Seriously, breaking into a teacher’s room? What were you thinking?”  

“It wasn’t my fault!” Zach yells again while Gabriel starts laughing.  

“That’s actually hilarious,” I say with a small chuckle.  

“It wasn’t at the time,” Zach grumbles. “Maybe it is now, but definitely not when Ricky was yelling at us.”  

When lunch ends after the hour is up, everyone goes to the very top floor where the Major’s stay. The class that is held here, vocal, has to be my favorite part of the entire day. Finally, we’re at the part where I know I’m doing ok. Singing is the thing I’m most comfortable with, and even with this group of amazingly talented people, I really feel like I’m doing something right. Ricky teaches everyone the warmups we’ll be doing before the class and before the real performance, then it’s back downstairs for the full rehearsal.  

The group rehearsal is led by Professor Darious, with the help of the three coaches, in the auditorium. He talks for a good half an hour about how we’re going to handle things, then we spend the other two and a half hours getting to know the production some more. We watch clips, listen to the songs, learn more about what the set and costume design is going to look like, and gather more information on the characters.  

Even though I’ve never done anything like this, I’m excited for it. The more Professor Darious talks about it, the happier I am that I actually get to do this. I get to work with amazing and talented people, I get to experience something people would die for, and best of all, I love it. I love every second, even the things that challenge me. I love learning the new things people teach me, I love getting to know everyone, and I love that I get to do this all summer. I know I said yesterday was the best day ever, but this is definitely a close second or maybe even a tie for first. Never in my life have I ever been one hundred percent sure about anything, but I am one hundred percent sure about this. I’m sure that this is where I’m meant to be right now, that this is something that will bring my life back. I almost smile to myself as I pack up my things and stuff them in my bag when the group rehearsal is over and it’s time for me to go home. This day went better than I thought it would.  

“Christi,” Ricky’s voice comes from somewhere around me, and I look around until I meet his gaze. He gives me a small smile as he finishes writing something down on his clipboard. “Great job today. Everyone was very impressed.”  

“Thanks,” I say quietly, but I’m sure he can hear the relief in my voice. “I had lots of fun.”  

“Glad to hear,” he nods. “See you tomorrow.”  

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”  

He walks away, and I turn back to gathering my things.  

“Christi! Hey, Christi!”  

I look up again, and this time I barely get the chance to move my head before Gabriel plops down in the chair next to me and grins. I freeze for a moment and just stare at him.  

“Hey,” he says again. “You did a great job today. You’re a natural at this. Really.”  

“Thanks,” I repeat and smile back gratefully.  

“So,” he starts again, and turns to face me fully as I work on putting the rest of my things away, “the Majors usually go out to dinner on the first night of rehearsals to celebrate, do you want to come?”  

I freeze again and look back over at him. “What?”  

“Do you want to come?” he asks again. “Sean is friends with the owner of this small restaurant. Ricky said it was ok that you came, people are bound to find out that you’ve joined sooner or later. We’ve never been spotted there anyways, so I wouldn’t worry about paparazzi or something like that.”  

“Really?” I sputter. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or anything . . .”  

“No, it’s fine,” he says quickly. “We all want you to come.”  

“I don’t know,” I say nervously as I start to wrap my finger around the chain of my necklace.  

“Christi,” he says with a pleading expression and a small tilt of his head. “Please come.”  

“Ok,” I sigh, and he grins.  

I’m a little nervous that I’m being intrusive, but when I follow Gabriel to the entrance to meet everyone else, that’s clearly not the case. As much as I don’t understand it, they all seem to want me here.  

“I’m so glad you’re coming Christi!” Lauren squeals happily as she links her arm through mine and drags me outside. “I love having new friends! You’re going to love this restaurant. It’s so good.”  

I smile timidly and pile in the car behind her. Just like the other moments I’ve experienced with the Majors; the car ride is loud and exciting. Kalene yells at the chauffeur to play One Direction, her favorite band for as long as I can remember, and she grabs my arms to wave around in an attempt to get me to dance in my seat. I just smile as I watch her and Lauren sing at the top of their lungs.  

I’ve been plenty of places and done a variety of things with Taylor, Maya, and Emily, but it’s never been like this. This is something completely different, and the longer I’m here, the more I realize that maybe this is what I needed. A change of scene. Something more energetic and alive. That balance of calm with my old friends and loud with the Majors is what I’ve been missing, the thing that I’ve needed more than I realize.  

Because with this new group of people, I’m already doing things I’ve never done before. When all ten of us sit down to eat dinner, I laugh for the first time in nearly a year. Not just a light chuckle or small giggle, a true, loud, deep laugh. It feels strange coming out of me at first, like something hidden deep inside me that’s been buried away for a long time, waiting for the right moment to come back. When Gabriel tells a joke and I burst out laughing, everyone looks at me like they’re glad to know I can actually laugh. Kalene looks beside herself. For that moment, I don’t even care what I look like, my stomach aching and tears coming out of my eyes. Because for the first time in a really, really long time, I’m happy. Really, truly happy. With these new people I never even thought I would even talk to, with this new experience that I’ve opened myself up to.  

I laugh multiple times that night. I talk and open up more than I thought I would, and finally, I feel like I belong somewhere. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be, with this group of people, a new puzzle piece that fits perfectly. I’ve never felt it before. Not with anything else I’ve tried this year, not with all the people I’ve met. Out of everything, this makes the most sense. I’m still laughing and I’m still talking as the Majors and I walk out of the restaurant later that night. The air feels warm, things feel in place, and it’s almost like every bad thing that happened to me is suddenly gone.  

When we get back to the Academy, I say goodbye to everyone, and my sister offers to walk me back to my car. I know she wants a moment alone to ask how I’m doing, but I don’t think I can fit how I’m feeling into the short walk to the parking lot. Happy and alive, accepted, and cherished, a part of something that I really love.  

“So,” Kalene says as we walk in the darkness together, “how’d you like it?”  

“I actually really loved it,” I say with a giant smile. “Thank you for this, Kalene. I really, really love it.”  

I feel her eyes look down on me pleasantly as she throws her arm around my shoulder.  

“I know I threw the opportunity at you, but you’re the one who took it,” she says firmly. “And I’m really proud of you for that, Christi. I know this stuff is scary for you, but you really did take it, and you got here through your hard work.”  

“It’s been a long time coming,” I admit. “I never thought I’d be doing something here, at Roanin Academy. It just doesn’t seem real. But in another way, it does.”  

“I can already tell this is going to be a great thing for you, little sister,” she nods. “In just today, you’ve been the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time. You were talking and smiling and even laughing. I haven’t seen that in a long time.”  

“I feel different,” I say distantly. “In just today, I feel like a new person. Like the switch suddenly flipped or something.”  

It’s true. Even though I was on the way back before with my new friends and my new hobbies, Dr. Charm and Penny, my new bond with my father and Molly, my way back to God, I was always missing something. Something that was the pusher, something that reminded me that there’s more to life than fighting. There’s living too. This summer is going to turn that around for me.  

“It’s nice to do something different this year,” I say finally. “Something not as . . .”  

“Depressing?”  

“Yeah. Depressing.”  

“Well, everyone here loves you, Christi,” Kalene tells me. “Especially the Majors. We’re all really glad you’re here.”  

I am too.  

Kalene sacrificed a lot to join the Academy. Her school, her friends, even her own mother. I’ve never asked her if she sometimes misses her old life. That if sometimes, she wants things to go back to the way they were. Does she ever get homesick even though the Academy is supposed to be her new home? Does she miss seeing me and our father every day? Does she miss our mother? My sister, or anyone else in my family for that matter, never mentioned our mother or her side of the side of the family after she left. No one cried over her, at least not in front of each other. I did, and sometimes I still do. Maybe not for her, but for the mother I never had. The time after she left was strange. Like I’ve mentioned before, it didn’t feel like that big of a change, at least not as big as it should have been. Everyone knew she was gone before she even left.  

I didn’t have to ask Kalene to know that she blamed herself. I started to see her less and less when she joined the Academy, so I can’t really say I knew what she went through. But Kalene hides her emotions a lot. She doesn’t like people to see her weak or vulnerable, especially not me, her little sister who she wants to be a role model for. The only way she ever expresses her emotions is through her music. Kalene is definitely my biggest role model, and she knows that. Maybe that’s why she never wanted me to see her upset. But even though I never saw her break down about the whole thing, I’m sure there were times where she did. Times where she let down her guard for just a moment, if not for other people, then for herself.  

Our mother never liked it when Kalene and I cried. She got annoyed, and she didn’t like having to deal with the crazy emotions. She never drilled it into me since I’m absolutely terrible at hiding how I feel, but I think she got it into my sister’s head that showing emotion is bad. It’s a sign of weakness. And while Kalene was busy taking care of me while our mother wasn’t, I don’t think she wanted me to see her as weak. She wanted to make sure that I thought everything ok, that our mother didn’t hate us.  

I wish I would have talked to Kalene more, not just after our mother left, but before. It’s nice to have her looking out and protecting me, but I think my sister just needed someone to talk too. We’ve always had a strong bond where we do talk and we do trust each other with everything, but now that I think about it, every deep conversation we’ve had has been about me. It’s been about me and how I’m feeling and what I’m going through, not Kalene. I don’t think she’s minded it, but she needed it back then. She needed to get it off her chest. I hope now that I’m slowly starting to sort my life back out, we can talk more about her.  

I think a lot about my mother a lot during my first week working at the Academy. I haven’t given her this much thought since the day she left, but I think about her now. I wonder what she’s doing now, where she is, if she still thinks about me and Kalene, or are we just distant memories that she buried a long time ago? Does she read articles about Kalene or watch her performances when they pop up on YouTube or listen to her music? Did she keep something that reminded her of me? Did she keep her wedding ring for old times’ sake, or did she give it away or sell it?  

I hope my mother sees me the night I preform on live television. I hope she sees both of her daughters. I hope a part of her regrets leaving, that she’s able to see that both Kalene and I made something of ourselves without her.  

The more I think about it, the more I believe that Kalene doesn’t regret leaving. She left the life of barriers and hiding herself from our mother behind. She let a sliver of protectiveness go so she could live a new life, the life she belongs in. As my first week at the Academy continues, I can see why she loves it here so much.  

To me, this place always seemed like a distant fantasy, a totally different universe that was a portal to the world of celebrities and fame and whatever else. Some of the time, I forgot that Roanin Academy was twenty minutes from my house. I never had a clear image of what went on here, not when my mind was preoccupied with so much. But it wasn’t what I was expecting. The classes aren’t what I thought they’d be, the students aren’t what I pictured. No one here is stuck up or egotistical. They’re normal.  

The Majors continue to make me laugh more than I have in years. Everything is normal and loud and easy-going. Sometimes, I almost feel like I’m one of them. Like I belong here at this school taking these classes and singing with these people. They talk with me and share things like I’ve been here for years.  

“I can’t believe we still haven’t taken you to our favorite spot yet,” Sean says with a shake of his head as we walk down to lunch. “We’ll have to see if you can stay for free period this afternoon. You have to go.”  

“It’s incredible. You’ll love it there, Christi,” Gabriel adds. “Can you stay this afternoon?”  

“I think so,” I say. “I’ll have to leave for dinner, but I’ll stay for an hour.”  

“Yay!” Sean cheers, then turns to the rest of the Majors. “Guys, we’re taking Christi down to our favorite spot this afternoon.”  

“Oh my God, I can’t believe we haven’t showed you yet!” Lauren yells. “You’re going to love it, Christi.”  

After a long afternoon of more working and learning, I text my father to tell him I’ll be home a little late, then trip after Ellie and Lauren as they grab my arm and tug me along.  

I follow the Majors through the entrance and outside to warm air, then down one of the small paths in the front yard. We weave our way through the front towards the side of the school, then to the back that has similar landscaping as the front. The large wall that surrounds the Academy disappears once it hits the thick forests, but I imagine it’s still there hidden behind the trees. I’m taken along the path into the forest, and the Majors and I trek deeper into the woods. 

“We’re almost there,” Gabriel calls to me from the front of the group, and I strain my ears to get an idea of where we are. The conversation of the Majors is too loud for me to hear anything, so I peer ahead instead. My eyes widen slightly when I spot a great mass of blue that lies ahead on the horizon, the sun sparking off it like something in a picture.  

“Is that the ocean?” I ask no one in particular. I had no idea the beach was this close the Academy.  

The Majors suddenly halt conversation and stop walking, and I nearly run into the back of Zach.  

“That’s the ocean,” Kalene yells in confirmation, then reaches behind her to grab my hand and yank me forward.  

My mouth parts slightly in awe. I’m standing on the edge of a cliff where a path leads down the half-mile long beach. The small cove is surrounded by the cliff, making it feel very private even though I’m sure there’s nothing around here for miles. Gentle waves crash onto the sand calmly, and there’s a light breeze blowing off the sand. It’s beautiful.  

“Wow.”  

“It’s awesome, right?” Gabriel says as he starts down the path to the sand.  

Kalene grins over at me, then tugs me forward again to follow her down to the beach.  

The sand is soft between my toes, and I smile down at my squirming feet as the Majors run past me to the water. This is incredible. It brings me a strange sense of peace, one that I haven’t felt in a while. It’s only the salty air and ocean out here, not any twisted thoughts or memories.  

I sit down on the blanket Logan brought down and smile slightly as I watch Ellie, Gabriel, and Zach try to catch one of the tiny fish swimming around with an empty water bottle. I barely even get the chance to take my seat before Lauren starts talking again. 

“What do you think, Christi, should I order this dress for my date Saturday?” she asks as she holds her phone up for me to see. “I’m torn.”  

“It’s pretty,” I say with a nod. “I think you should get it. Who’s the date with?”  

“Kai Jenson,” she grins. “The actor. We’ve been dating for a few months now.”  

“Aw,” I smile warmly. “I know who that is. That’s super cute that you guys are together.”  

“Yeah, he’s great,” she swoons as she puts her phone down.  

“She’s been talking about him nonstop ever since they got together,” Sean chimes in. “It’s a little gross if you ask me.”  

“Oh, be quiet,” Lauren rolls her eyes. “You’re just jealous.”  

“She’s being ridiculous,” Sean tells me with a pointed look, and I laugh. “I actually have a girlfriend in case you forgot, Lauren.”  

“Sean is dating one of the Minors,” Lauren informs me when she sees the quizzical look on my face. “Ariana is too. I’m pretty sure everyone else is single though. At least that I know of.”  

“Yeah, I think the three of us are the only ones taken,” Sean nods. “Besides Kalene and Zach.”  

“What about you, Christi?” Lauren asks as she nudges my side. “Any boyfriend?”  

“Nope,” I try to say as casually as I can while simultaneously trying to fight down the panic.  

“That’s too bad,” Lauren continues. “You’re talented, sweet, and really pretty.”  

I blush and quickly try to change the subject to something else.  

Once I leave the beach to go back home for dinner, my first week at the Academy is officially over. I tell my father and Molly everything at dinner that night, what I’m doing, how much I love it, and how it’s even better than I expected. I love doing the performing and the singing, I love the Majors, and I love how it fills my time miraculously. Both of them are happy for me. My father says he’s glad I’ve found something that keeps me happy and distracted, and Molly still gushes on about how proud she is.  

When the next week rolls around and my second week starts, I enjoy it even more. We get more into the actual production of things and things are a little busier and more chaotic, I love every second of it. The more singing I do, the more I see the Majors and other students, the more I fall in love with it. The more I want to wake up and drag myself out of bed in the morning, the happier I am.  

It’s the perfect mixture of the way I used to live and the way I’m living now. I continue to see Dr. Charm for therapy, I still have time for group therapy and church on the weekend, I still talk to Penny despite our temporary halt on lessons, and I somehow manage to find time with Taylor, Maya, and Emily at least once a week.  

It relieves me more than anything to know that my three best friends are really happy for me. I thought they might get angry that I’m happy and doing this whole thing without them, but they assure that’s not the case when I mention my concerns to them.  

“Christi, that’s a ridiculous thing to say,” Taylor laughed loudly. “We’re beyond happy for you, I’m being serious. You deserve this more than anybody. And we still see you twice a week, it’s not like we’re not friends anymore.”  

“We’re really happy for you, I promise,” Maya assured me with a kind smile. “It’s incredible that you’re able to do this.”  

“And it’s really been helping you too,” Emily adds. “It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re already a different person. You smile a lot more, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh up until a few days ago.”  

And as the rest of June goes by, the more I see that in myself. I start to feel the happiness, a strange feeling I’ve almost forgotten. It comes to me at times when I don’t expect it, and sometimes at my worst moments when I need something to distract me. I remember the Academy and I remember the Majors, this amazing thing that I’m working on with them and the joy I feel doing it. It always makes things better.  

During the last week of June, the school takes a week off for vacation, and Kalene comes back home to stay for the seven days her and I have off. We spend hours at a time sitting on the back porch, sometimes talking or other times working on our lines. Our father will occasionally join us with a cup of tea and a crossword, and Molly sometimes makes an appearance to say hello.  

“So, the Majors are going to Italy for a week in July,” Kalene tells me one afternoon as the two of us study our lines on the back porch.  

“Cool,” I nod, remembering the big trip the Majors usually go on for a week during the summer. Last year, they went to the Caribbean. Kalene loved it.  

“Do you want to come with us?”  

My head shoots up and I immediately stop writing my note in the margin of my script book. “What?”  

“Yeah,” she smiles encouragingly. “Do you want to go? The Majors wanted me to ask you this week before we finalize our plans.”  

“I couldn’t do that,” I fumble and shake my head. “That’s a special trip for the Majors. I’m not a Major.”  

“You might as well be,” she shrugs casually, then turns away to scribble something in her book. “Everyone really wants you to come. You’d have so much fun.”  

“I can’t just leave the country, Kalene.”  

“Sure, you can. It’s not that hard to get a passport.”  

That’s not what I meant. It’s more like I don’t want to leave the country. I would only take my nightmares and mental health problems with me and leave behind my ways of coping and Dr. Charm. Besides, I’ve only known the Majors for almost a month. My goal this entire time has been to be as normal as possible, and that includes hiding my past and what I still struggle with. Around the Majors, I just want to be a normal girl.  

“Everyone really wants you to come, Christi,” Kalene says again as her eyes shift to me again.   

I look at her and bite the inside of my cheek timidly. She’s staring back at me with complete seriousness.  

“I can’t stay away from home,” I say quietly. “I just can’t. There are things here and people I need that I can’t leave behind just so I can go to Italy. I can’t do that kind of stuff anymore, Kalene. It’s just the way things are now.”  

“Fine,” she says shortly and looks away. I can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s irritated, but I don’t care. She knows the truth, the truth where in reality, I’m really not a normal person anymore. It’s not as simple as getting a passport then leaving the country. Sometimes, my sister still cannot understand that. But I do. I am surprised that I was invited, and I do feel a little bad for turning down the offer since they so kindly considered me. But the other part wins over, the part that knows the truth. 

~0o0~ 

“Hey, Marissa,” Gabriel says to one of the members of his dressing team as she takes his measurements for his costumes, “did you know that most of the dust particles in your house are dead skin?”  

“Really?” she responds without looking up. “Arms down.”  

He does as he’s told then continues, “It’s true. Sean told me the other day. It was in a magazine he was reading.”  

London, a member of my dressing team who’s taking my measurements, smirks and shakes her head at Gabriel.  

“Did you know that, Christi?” he asks me.  

“Nope.”  

“He also told me that the longest bout of hiccups lasted nearly sixty-nine years.”  

“Wow.”  

“Also, if you—” 

“Gabriel, hun,” Marissa interrupts.  

“Sorry.”  

“We don’t need another Sean,” Ethan says next to me as he gives Gabriel a knowing look. “Leave the fact spitting to him.”  

“Very funny.”  

 “All done,” London suddenly says before I can chime in. “It was nice to meet you, Christi. The rest of the team will be excited to meet you in a few weeks.”  

“Thanks, London,” I say, and she leaves with a wave.  

“They’ll have all your costumes done in just a few weeks,” Ethan tells me. “I have no idea how five people can sew that many costumes for a person in that amount of time.”  

“My grandma used to make Halloween costumes for me and my sister,” Gabriel says. “It took her a month to sew two costumes. I have no idea how they do it.”  

“They make the costumes?” I ask in disbelief. “How do they do that? Is there a room in this school for that too?”  

“Yes, actually,” Gabriel replies. “It’s in the basement. They make the costumes down there, and they store all sorts of outfits in that room. Every dress they ordered for parties, suits, everything we’ve worn for the concerts, shoes, jewelry, you name it.”  

“Those ladies are truly amazing,” Ethan nods. “They do all the outfits and the hair and makeup.”  

“Wow.”  

“Wow is right,” Ricky jumps in as he strolls past. “If you can find someone who can do makeup and hair and sew, that’s pretty impressive.”  

“He comes in like that a lot,” Gabriel adds when he spots the amused look on my face as I watch Ricky walk away. “Ricky’s an interesting character, but you gotta love him.”  

“It’s taken a lot for him to get here,” Ethan says thoughtfully. “He’s been faced with a lot of backlash ever since he was a number one Major way back when. Being Professor Darious’s son and all, people thought the only reason he got in was because his dad owned the place.”  

I look over to Ricky who is now talking to Logan. It feels strange to picture him as a young kid at this school, probably around the same age as me, dealing with all that hate from people.  

“People eventually realized how talented Ricky is,” Gabriel says fondly. “Now look at him.”  

“Successful as ever!” Ethan cheers, and I smile.  

“Oh stop,” Ricky says in a monotone voice as he starts to walk over to us again.  

“Just being polite! You’re great, Ricky.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” he says as he walks back over to us. “Christi, can you stay here for a few minutes during the free period?” He looks up from his clipboard, and I seem to process that he’s talking to me.  

“Oh, um, sure.”  

“Great,” he says and looks back down. “You too, Gabriel. I need both of you.”  

“Me?” Gabriel asks.  

“You,” Ricky confirms.  

Gabriel shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I’m suddenly confused. “Why do you need us?” I ask just as Ricky starts to walk away. He pauses and looks over at me.  

“I want you two to sing together.”  

“What?”  

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to hear you two sing together. Just for fun. See how it sounds.”  

“Cool,” Gabriel says nonchalantly. “What are we singing?”  

“I figured Christi can replace Lauren in ‘A Million Dreams’. You can sing that end part. The duet. Is that ok with you two?”  

“I’m good with it.”  

“Yeah,” I sputter. “Yeah, that’s ok.”  

“Great,” Ricky nods. “Just meet me backstage as soon as you’re finished measuring.”  

He walks away, and I stare after him dumbfounded as Gabriel says goodbye to Marissa like nothing even happened. What was that about? Why do I have to sing with Gabriel?  

“Why does he want us to sing together?” I ask.  

“Don’t worry, Christi, I don’t bite when I sing,” Gabriel says jokingly as he collects his things.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say quickly, because that’s far from true. I think singing with him is going to be a great opportunity. I mean, it’s Gabriel Walker. “I’m just curious. That was kind of random.”  

“They probably just want to hear how you guys sound together,” Ethan comes in. “He could just be curious. You both have great voices, I bet you’ll sound like a powerhouse together.”  

“Ricky sometimes plays around with things,” Gabriel tells me. “He won’t change your part. He might just want to hear us.”  

I nod, the nerves fading slightly. That’s a perfectly logical explanation. It’s just for fun. Just to hear how we sound together. “Would you mind telling my sister I’ll be out in a few minutes?” I ask Ethan. “She’s supposed to come home with me for free period.”  

“No problem,” he says as he gathers his things. “Good luck.”  

Ethan leaves with the person from his dress team, then it’s just me and Gabriel alone on the stage. I’m suddenly starting to feel nervous again. Can I really do this? I mean, this is Gabriel Walker, one of the most talented singers on the planet. I’ve heard him sing multiple times now, and not once has he sounded off or bad. Can I really keep up with that? He’s still as incredible as he was the first time I saw him sing. There’s literally nothing in his voice that needs to improve. When I try to picture adding my voice to that, I just can’t.  

“We’ll only be a few minutes, then you can get on your way,” Ricky says as he comes waltzing towards us through the center aisle of the audience. “I got an extra copy for you, Christi, so you can have the lines in case they’re not memorized. I’ll give you a few minutes to talk.”  

He plops down in a chair and starts writing something down, and Gabriel turns to me.  

“I think you should take the high harmonies.”  

“Me?” I ask stupidly, and he nods. “Are you sure? That’s what you’ve been practicing, and it’s meant for the male.”  

“You can sing higher than anyone I’ve heard before, Christi,” he encourages. “Sing the high harmonies. I’ll do the low ones.”  

“Are you sure that’s ok?”  

“I promise it’s fine,” he smiles. “You know what they sound like. It’s high, but I think you can do it.” I gulp and stare down at the lyrics. With me singing the high parts of the harmonies, it’s going to be even higher than normal. I try to picture what it sounds like in my head and gulp. This could possibly crash and burn. “I know that part is meant for the male to sing, but I think we can make it sound good.”  

“Alright,” I say against my better judgement. “I’ll do the high part. I can’t promise you I won’t mess up.”  

“I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for you to mess up, Christi.”  

I sigh and look out to Ricky. “Alright. I think we’re ready.”  

He nods and gives us a thumbs up.  

“We’ll start a few lines before you come in, Gabriel,” he calls. “I’ll cue you in.”  

“Got it,” Gabriel says, then sits down on one of the stools that was out for measuring like we’re all having a normal conversation.  

I swallow thickly and stare down at the lyrics as he starts to sing his part. I’m going to have to take this really high if I don’t want our voices to clash. God, he literally sounds perfect. I’m expected to sing with him? When my part gets closer, I glance up at Ricky to make sure I come in on time, he nods to me for a cue, and I look back down at the lyrics. Even though I know the words pretty well, it makes me feel better having something to pretend to focus on and something to hold.  

When it’s time for the harmonies, I can’t help but smile through my intense concentration. We do sound pretty good together. We both have voices that just sort of blend together nicely, and I think he gets that too. We look at each other and briefly grin once we get the hardest harmony of the song, and he gives me a thumbs up. Once we’re finished, he immediately starts clapping with Ricky as I chuckle nervously.  

“Great job, guys,” Ricky says as he stands. “You sounded great on the high harmony, Christi. Well done, you two.”  

“High harmony was a great choice,” Gabriel smirks at me as we walk backstage and down the dressing room hallway. “Great job. I think we sounded great.”  

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks for singing with me.”  

“Anytime,” he responds. “You’ve got an incredible voice.”   

“You do too,” I smile shyly. We halt once we get to the split of my hallway, simply looking at each other for a moment before I adjust my bag on my shoulder and add, “I should probably get back to my sister.”  

“I won’t keep you any longer,” he says with a joking lift of his mouth. “See you tomorrow.”  

“See you.”  

We turn to in walk opposite directions, him to the stairs and me to the entrance. I shake my head and smile the slightest bit. That was actually really fun. Who knew that one day I would sing with Gabriel Walker? And thank God I was actually able to keep up with him. I was almost certain that my voice would sound like a squawking crow with his. But we actually sounded great together, almost like we’ve been singing together for years.   

My sister is waiting for me in the entrance once I finally make it out, and she stands from one of the couches when she spots me.  

“Hey,” I greet her, “sorry I’m a little late. I’m ready to go.” She doesn’t follow me as I walk towards the door, so I pause and look back at her curiously. She just crosses her arms and gives me a weird look. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“Nothing,” she shrugs, uncrosses her arms, and wipes the look of her face. I stare as she breezes past me towards the door. I roll my eyes and follow her to the exit when she suddenly stops walking. I nearly ram into her as she turns to face me. “You and Gabriel sound great together.”  

Two weeks into July, the Majors go on their trip to Italy. I stick with my decision to stay home and instead help Grandma Irene bake cakes for her church’s bake sale.  

“Why in the name of peaches would you pass up an opportunity to go to Italy?” Grandma Irene barks at me when I tell her the reason why Kalene isn’t home with me for the week off. “I’ve wanted to go there with your grandfather since we got married, but you know how he is on planes. If you told me about this sooner, I would have taken your spot.”  

“I can’t just leave the country, Grandma,” I sigh as I level out my cup of flour. “You know that. What would I do if my medication ran out, or what if something happened and I needed Dr. Charm? And you know about those terrible nightmares I get.”  

“Those are easily solvable problems,” she says dismissively and waves her wooden spoon at me. “You just refill your medication before you leave, and even if you somehow ran out, a few days off those God-awful pills wouldn’t be so bad.” I open my mouth to retort, to tell her that they actually keep me sane, but she doesn’t even let me get a word out. “If something were to happen, Kalene and the other Majors would be there to help. As for the nightmares, I’m sure you could suck it up for a week to have some fun.”  

“I can’t just suck it up, Grandma,” I say with an eye roll. “I get them every night and there’s nothing I can do about that. And well, the Majors don’t know about . . . what happened to me.”  

“Well why not?” she snaps.  

“I’ve only known them for a month,” I say exasperatedly. “And it’s not exactly something I’m proud of. I’d prefer to just keep it buried like it never happened. Besides, no one is even supposed to know. They left me out of those news stories for a reason.”  

“Well, you’re going to have to tell them at some point,” Grandma Irene shrugs. “Once you start going to that school full time—”  

“Full time?” I interrupt. “What do you mean full time?” Now she’s looking at me like I just grew two heads.  

“Oh, don’t play that game with me, young lady,” she scolds as I stare at her with bewilderment. “You really think they’re going to let you leave that school after all the trouble they went through to get you? It would be pretty stupid to let someone as talented you go just so they can hold another useless audition. I don’t think so! You, my dear, will be signed as their number one Major as soon as the play is over. I bet my peaches on it.”  

“I—I—”  

“I can’t believe you haven’t realized this!” my grandmother cackles.  

“I—I’ve just been taking things one day at a time,” I sputter in a panic. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, Grandma. But that doesn’t make sense. I’m just the placeholder until they find someone that can be their Major. Someone that’s meant for that crazy life. Someone that’s talented and meant to live in that kind of world.”  

“You’re talented.”  

“But—”  

“Don’t but me,” Grandma Irene yelps. “You would do incredibly well at that school.”  

I sigh and finally dump my cup of flour into the bowl. Are they really considering looking at me for their number one Major? What my grandmother is saying makes some sense. And that day Ricky had me sing with Gabriel, was that a test or something? Trying me out to see if I would be fit as his partner?  

“Why don’t you talk to your therapist about it? I heard she gives some pretty great advice. She’ll get your head out of the clouds.”  

At first, I don’t consider telling Dr. Charm about this whole thing. I don’t want to be a Major even if I am offered the position, at least I think I don’t. But it doesn’t even matter if it’s something I want or not. That world is not where I belong, not in the world of fame and people always looking at you. I can’t have that ruining all this progress I’ve made these past months, and I can’t have people watching me all the time. It would make it even harder to hide Eric. But after I start to lose even more sleep because of my grandmother’s words, I decide to bring it up at our session a few days later.  

“Well, that decision would be completely up to you,” Dr. Charm tells me. “I’m fairly certain they’ll offer you a spot if they’re pleased with your work this summer. It makes sense.”  

I gulp. “And if they do, do you think I should take it?”  

“Being a number one Major is a chance you’ll never get again,” she smiles. “And if I’m being honest, Christi, you’ve come a long way since you first stepped into my office. I don’t want you to think that you are still the same person that walked in here that first day, because you have undergone so much self-improvement and development.”  

“But I’m not strong enough for something like that,” I sigh. “All those people looking at me and watching my every move . . . I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”  

“I think you will find that the Academy is good at keeping you away from that world. The students may be celebrities, but they’re kids. They’re students. Roanin Academy is a school.”  

“I guess so,” I mutter hopelessly.  

“You have while to think about where you want to go next once this summer is over,” she says calmly. “If you get offered a spot, do you want to take it? If you don’t, what are you going to do?”  

I don’t say anything. Here we are again, another talk about a future that I don’t know how to build. Dr. Charm leans forward in her chair, and I gulp as she looks me straight in the eyes.  

“Things in life do not fall in your lap,” she says firmly. “You know that better than anyone. You still have a lot of life left, a lot of life to build. You’re the one that makes it happen.”  

In a lot of ways, I think it already has.  

Even after all this time, I still hate thinking about the future. I hate having to make all these huge decisions, I hate not knowing what’s coming. I try to ease my crazy conscience by telling myself I might not even get asked to join the Academy. They might be looking for someone more . . . charming. Better with people, more talented, prettier, someone you would expect to be a celebrity. Definitely not me. But will I be disappointed if I don’t get to join? The more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m going to hate leaving the Academy. I’m going to miss seeing the Majors every day. I’m going to miss the singing and the coaches and everything about it.  

But when I first joined, I told myself it was just to get myself back on track. The final push I needed; the last piece that is supposed to make me somewhat normal again. Get my brain stable enough so I can decide what my life is going to become. But what if my life has already become something? What if it’s become this school, what if it’s become the Majors? Then what happens if I suddenly can’t go back? I’m left with nothing again?  

It all runs through my head as I walk through the Academy alone a few weeks after my disaster with Grandma Irene. It’s the first time I’ve been alone here since I first joined, and I find it a little strange. None of the Majors are laughing and yelling, none of the Juniors or Minors are chatting casually behind them. Now I’m alone, walking in the hallways by myself as I make my way to the dressing rooms where I’m supposed to meet the rest of my dressing team. The rest of the Majors are around here somewhere, but today, it’s just me.  

A small chatter comes from the end of the hallway once I make it to the rows of dressing rooms. A group of people stand at the end with a rack of dresses, London among them, each person looking exactly like you would expect a stylist to. There’re two boys and three girls, and they’re the most beautiful groups of people I’ve ever seen. One girl has bright pink hair, a boy has a lot of face piercings, another has the most beautiful makeup I’ve ever seen, and another girl has strings of long braids flowing down her back. London’s array of bright and unique clothing adds to their very bold presence. Looking at them makes me smile.  

“Christi!” London yells down the hallway when she spots me. “There you are! Come over and meet the rest of the crew.”  

I grab my hands tightly as I finally make it over to them. The girl with bright pink hair immediately sticks out her hand for me to shake.  

“I’m Floral,” she greets me as she gives my hand a fierce shake. “Nice to meet you.”  

“Hi,” I smile back.  

“Behind me is Jaden, Athena, Harry, and you know London.”  

She points behind her to Harry, the man with the piercings; Athena with the string of braids; and London with her crazy patterned clothes, and Jaden with the extravagant makeup.  

“Nice to meet you,” I say. “I’m really excited for this.”  

“All these dresses are going to look great on you,” Athena says excitedly as she whips her braids to the side and tugs me forward. “I can picture it in my mind. You’re going to look amazing.”  

I smile shyly as my team immediately crowed around me and start grabbing dresses to hold them up against me.  

“We’re going to have to choose between a few since you’re only supposed to have three fancy dresses, a casual dress, and then an old dress for the very beginning,” London says. “We’re just going to try on all of them to see which ones fit.”  

“Great,” I say as I run my hand along the fabric of one dress. It’s incredibly soft and expensive looking, and the second I touch the fabric, I quickly pull my hand back in fear of damaging it.  

“I think we should start with the purple one,” Harry suggests as he takes a pretty purple dress off the rack. He hands it to me, then ushers me inside the dressing room to change.  

It looks absolutely stunning, and for a moment, I forget that these people actually made it. It takes me a while to get it on, but when I do, I almost don’t believe that the girl looking back at me in the mirror is actually me. It looks exactly like the Lettie Lutz costume from the movie. It’s a deep purple at the top, but they did something with the bottom where one of the skirt layers fades into a bright pink. It’s beautiful, and it fits incredibly. The cut sleeves feel great, the high collar of the back first perfectly, and the extravagant, fluffy skirt looks big without being obnoxious. The entire thing looks incredible.  

“Let’s see it!” Jaden calls from outside, and I open the door to show them.  

“Wow,” everyone says simultaneously, and I blush.  

“You look incredible, babe,” Jaden says with a sassy pop of his hip. “That one is definitely a keeper. The color looks fabulous on you.”  

“Thanks,” I say as Harry tugs me out of the doorway and spins me around. “You guys made this? It’s incredible.”  

“Thanks, sweetie,” Floral smiles. “What do you think? Too tight in the waist?”  

“It’s perfect.”  

“Let’s try some accessories,” Athena suggests. “I think the flower crown is a must have, and the black flats with the purple and pink will look good.”  

“I agree,” London says as she grabs a pair of black flats.  

“Yes, those are definitely the ones,” Jaden says with an approving click of his tongue once the shoes are on my feet.  

“What do you think, flower crown or no flower crown?” Athena asks as she holds up a small headpiece that has pink and purple flowers wrapped around it.  

“Flower crown,” everyone says at the same time, and I smile as Athena starts to place it on my head.  

I’ve never been dressed up like this, but it’s actually a lot of fun. Everything they made and everything they came up with for my costume is breathtaking. I feel like a princess or some type of royalty. Having everything start to come together, especially now that I’m choosing my costume, brings me a strange sense of pride and happiness.  

“Hey, London, Marissa said she left her—woah.”  

All six of us turn our heads and look down to the end of the hallway to where Gabriel stands, eyes slightly wide and a cardboard box in hand. I feel my cheeks heat up, and I quickly move my eyes somewhere else.  

“Tape measure?” London finishes with a rather amused eyeroll. “Yeah, I left it backstage. I’ll grab it for you.”  

“What do you think, Gabriel?” Athena asks as she goes back to adjusting my flower crown. “Like the purple?”  

“Yeah,” he says as he smiles at me. “You look great, Christi.”  

“Thanks,” I say shyly as I pretend to help Athena adjust my flower crown.  

“Don’t be shy,” he teases me. “Not everyone can pull off a dress like that, but you definitely can.” 

“Got the tape measure,” London comes back to save me. “Here you go. What’s in the box?”  

“Hats,” Gabriel tells her. “Can’t have P.T Barnum without the top hat.”  

He takes the tape measure from London then pushes open the door to his dressing room to set down the box of hats.  

“You really do look great,” he assures me with a small smile, then disappears back around the corner.  

I feel everyone’s eyes on me, and my cheeks start to heat up again.  

“What?” I snap and cross my arms.  

“Nothing,” Jaden says with an unconvincing shrug, then looks down at his nails and examines them thoughtfully.   

“Shall we try on the next dress?” London jumps in again, then quickly pushes me back in the dressing room.  

~0o0~ 

“Let me see the last thirty seconds of that,” Ricky instructs from his seat in the auditorium. “Actually, start from the last chorus.”  

“Give us a ten second head start,” Ella calls to the people in the sound booth, and I take my position on the stage where I normally am when the last chorus starts.  

Everyone else nods, and the music starts up again.  

It’s a hot afternoon in the last week of July, and we’re working on the song “This is Me”, dance and all. Only a few of the Majors are in this song, but a few of the Minors and a few of the Juniors are too. Everyone else watches from the audience in a seat near Professor Darious and the coaches. My body is tired from all this dancing I’ve done today. Even more so, my brain is toast from trying to remember the lines we’re perfecting, the choreography I’m really struggling not to forget, and the effort of hitting my notes perfectly. I’m starting to regret my decision of going out with Lauren, Kalene, Ellie, and Ariana once we’re done today since I’m so beat, but they all seemed really excited when I said I’d go.  

“I think we need to change Sean’s position here,” Professor Darious decides once the song finishes again and everyone is in their ending position. “Ariana’s blocking him. Would you two switch?”  

Giggles erupt from the audience, and Sean huffs. “I’m not that short,” he grumbles, and Ariana pats his head jokingly as they pass each other.  

“That’s better,” Ricky smiles. “When you two move to these end positions, just maneuver around each other so Sean is in the front. Let’s run it through one more time, then we’ll be done for the day.”  

Professor Darious’s eyes briefly shift to me.  

“Great vocals, Christi,” he tells me, and I smile awkwardly as I move back to my starting position.  

After we run through the number one more time, Professor Darious calls it a day. I leave the stage with the rest of the students, and together, everyone moves to the seats to collect their things and leave.  

“I’m really glad you’re coming with us today, Christi,” Ariana says we pack our things together. “Just warning you though, Lauren is a crazy shopper.”  

“Thanks for inviting me,” I smile.  

“No problem. We’ll probably do a little shopping then go and get some ice cream or something.”  

“Depending on the crowds,” Ellie jumps in from somewhere around me. “Some people get crazy, you know? I bet they’ll get excited when they see you.”  

I gulp nervously. I haven’t thought about that before. Will people really freak out when they see me? Professor Darious did announce a few weeks ago that I’m joining the play, and I guess no one has ever seen me before. I don’t want to get swarmed by people. I’m sure these girls are used to it, but I’m definitely not.  

“It’ll be ok, I’m sure,” Ariana assures me when she sees the panicked look on my face. “We’ll bring a few security guards, and if it starts to get crazy, we’ll just come back here to hang out.”  

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Ellie says as the three of us start to walk out to the entrance. “People are respectful for the most part. You’ll be fine.”  

Lauren, Kalene, Ellie, and Ariana seem completely unphased as we pile into the car, but I’m still silently freaking out. They can handle the attention and flashing cameras and whatever else, but I certainly cannot. What happens if it freaks me out to the point where I have a panic attack? Then what?  

“We go to this plaza all the time, Christi,” Lauren tells me, and I try to focus my attention on her instead of the mini freak out I’m having. “There’s a lot of great stores, and this cute little ice cream place.”  

“I can’t believe I’ve never taken you here before,” Kalene shakes her head.  

After a while of driving, the five of us arrive at a plaza full of shops and people. I gulp at the crowd, but Lauren takes my arm and pulls me out of the car into the bright sun. A few people immediately start staring and one person points excitedly, but the girls seem completely unphased by all of this. They talk casually as they lead me along the sidewalk like it’s completely normal to have people stare and gawk at you with two security guards trailing behind.  

“It’s ok, Christi,” Kalene whispers to me with a small smile, and she reaches down to give my hand a quick squeeze. “Just pretend like they’re not even there.”  

Easier said than done. But later when Lauren urges us all to the first store, I slowly start to forget about it. I laugh and talk with Lauren, Kalene, Ellie, and Ariana, and the people around me staring and pointing and taking pictures start to disappear. It’s just me and my friends today, not this crazy reminder that I’m with a group of very popular people. I’ve always had a lot of fun with Taylor, Maya, and Emily, but this is fun in a different way. The people I’m with now are certainly a lot louder and more energetic, that’s for sure.  

“What do you think?” Lauren asks as Kalene, Ellie, Ariana, and I sit outside her dressing room. She spins around in the dress she has on and looks to us for opinions.  

“Not a fan,” Ellie replies bluntly as she scrunches her nose in dislike.  

“You look like a preschool teacher,” Kalene replies pointedly. “To put it nicely.”  

Lauren rolls her eyes. “Gee, thanks. What do you think, Christi?”  

I shrug. “I liked that red one you had on earlier,” I tell her. “You looked really pretty in it, and you liked it too.”  

“I’ll try it on again,” she decides then locks herself back in the dressing room.  

“You’re too nice, Christi,” Ellie says after a moment. “We all know she looked like she came straight from a parent-teacher conference.”  

Ariana and Kalene both start to laugh, and I suppress a smile.  

“You two can be the harsh critics,” I say and cross my arms. “Ariana and I will be the nice ones.”  

After another minute or two of debating, Lauren decides to buy the red dress, then the five of us walk down the sidewalk to the next store. The longer I talk with them, the more I’m able to relax. It feels strange to interact with a group of girls other than the three I have back at home, not because I need them like Taylor, Maya, and Emily, but because they chose me to be their friend. They definitely could have decided not to include me and only tolerate me because they have to, but I’m here with them instead.  

I’m having a lot more fun now that I’m doing my best to ignore the people staring at us. It’s still slightly overwhelming, but at this point, I’m having too much fun to care. The girls take me around me around the plaza some more and into the stores, and I even end up getting a few things for myself. After about an hour or so of shopping, Ariana takes us over to sit down on one of the benches in the small park.  

“Having fun, Christi?” Lauren asks me as we all take a break.  

“Yeah, this is great,” I smile. “Thanks again for inviting me.”  

“You’re fun,” Ariana grins as she pokes my side. “You’re always welcome with us.”  

I open my mouth to respond, but one of the security guards suddenly steps forward with a stoic expression.  

“Ladies,” he says, “I just got off the phone with Danny. Paparazzi is on their way.”  

“You’ve got to be joking,” Kalene grumbles as she stands up and grabs my hand tightly. “We were just going to get ice cream.”  

“What?” I yelp, suddenly feeling very panicked. I barely have any time to grab my bags before my sister is tugging me along back towards the parking lot with the other three girls trailing behind us.  

“We’ll try and beat them back before they find us,” Kalene tells me. “It’ll be fine. They’re looking for you. Everyone wants a new look at Christi Rodgers.”  

She briefly turns around and wiggles her eyebrows at me.  

“This is not funny, Kalene.”  

“Ok, ok, sorry. Just trying to diffuse the tension.”  

She quickens her pace as we all quickly walk to the car, and more panic builds up inside me. This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. I can see the parking lot ahead now, and just as I think we may be in the all clear, Ariana spots them.  

“There they are!” she yells, and suddenly, before I even get the chance to react, a large group of people jump in front of us.  

I freeze. Lights are flashing in my face and people are screaming at me. The two security guards step forward to create a path for us to walk to the car, and Kalene grabs my arm tightly to pull me to her side. Lauren comes up on my other side and grabs my arm too, and Ariana quickly jumps to the front to shield me from the cameras.  

“Just keep walking,” Kalene whispers gently as her arm wraps tightly around my shoulder. “Don’t talk to anyone. The car’s right up here.”  

I do as I’m told and force my feet to move forward and pretend to adjust my sunglasses to hide as much of my face as possible. This is terrible. I can’t cry here, I can’t. But it’s so hard to hold it in with all of these people screaming at me. My stomach is churning with fear. I want to be anywhere but here right now. Any sense of enjoyment I had earlier is now gone. Instead, I’m feeling incredibly dizzy.  

I can see the car now, so I start to pick up my pace. The yelling starts to get louder the closer we get, and the crowd is slowly suffocating me. My father once told me that people have the ability to trap us like a box and leave no room to breathe. I really wish he were here right now.  

I barely hear it when the car door opens, but I jump inside after Ariana as fast as I can. I’m frozen when the door finally closes again and the car stats to pull away, but I finally manage to let out a breath of relief and close my eyes for a moment. I can finally breathe again.  

“Well that sucked,” Ellie pouts. “I really wanted that ice cream. Oh well.”  

I stare out the window as I try to blink back tears forming in my eyes. I can still here the yells ringing through my head like an alarm.  

“You ok, Christi?” Kalene asks from the car. “Sorry our trip had to be spoiled like that.”  

I nod and try to swallow the lump in my throat that feels an awful lot like a giant marble. “Yeah,” I choke out as the tears finally push back out of my eyes. “I’m ok.”  

“Paparazzi can be a bitch,” Lauren says bluntly as she rests a hand on my shoulder. “It’s alright. You handled it like a champ. I sobbed my first time. If they did manage to get any pictures of you, I’m sure you look like a model.”  

“You’ll learn to ignore it,” Ariana adds encouragingly. “It’s really overwhelming the first few times, but it gets easier.”  

I nod even though I don’t feel that much better.  

“And why should you let those morons with no lives ruin you day? Let’s do something when we get back,” Lauren says cheerfully. “You said you bake, right? Why don’t we all go down to the kitchen when we get back and you can give us a lesson?”  

I finally manage a smile and turn to face her. “Yeah. I’d like that.”  

“We’ll just have to ask the lunch ladies if we can stay in there for a little,” she says. “They close the kitchens at ten in case someone wants a snack or something, but they should be gone by now since dinner is over.”  

“Christi makes the best chocolate cake,” Kalene says proudly. “She came up with the recipe herself.”  

“That’s really cool. You came up with the whole recipe?”  

“Yeah, just something I do for fun.”  

“That’s perfect,” Lauren chirps. “We’ll have to make that.”  

Once the five of us make it back to the Academy, I’m taken downstairs to the cafeteria then through a set of large doors that lead to the kitchens. It looks exactly like I expected it to, or in other words, it looks like it came from the back of a five-star restaurant. I look around in amazement while the girls follow me inside, then move around to start finding ingredients.  

Kalene is just as bad of a cook and baker as I remember, but the other girls are good helpers. We work for about two hours on our cake, then clean up the kitchen so it’s just as neat as it was when we found it.  

“We should bring this upstairs so the guys can try it too,” Ellie suggests as we all admire our work. “I’ll text everyone to meet us in the sitting room. Come on.”  

After grabbing some paper plates and plastic forks, the girls and I trek upstairs to the very top floor with our cake. I’ve never seen the inside of the Majors sitting room, but I’m sure it’s going to be huge. Turns out I’m right.  

The room is only a little smaller than the cafeteria, and has a high ceiling, beige walls, and a fluffy brown carpet. There’s just about everything you would expect; a large fireplace with three couches and a few other chairs and end tables, a large TV with a similar set up of furniture, many bookshelves, a couple of lamps, and a small shelf that holds multiple games.  

Once I’m done gawking at the place, I spot Ethan, Logan, Sean, and Zach seated on two of the four couches in front of the TV, and just a moment later, Gabriel’s head pops up from one of the empty couches.  

“What’s that?” he asks excitedly when his eyes land on the cake carrier in my arms, and I start to laugh when he quickly shoots to his feet.  

“Cake,” Ariana says happily. “Christi’s homemade chocolate cake.”  

I set the cake down on one of the nearby desks where Kalene drops the plates, napkins, forks, and knife to cut it, then swat Gabriel’s hand away when he tries to make a grab for the lid. 

“Let me cut me you a piece,” I scold, then lift the lid off.  

“That looks amazing,” Ethan says over my other shoulder.  

“She came up with this recipe herself,” Lauren tells him. “Isn’t that awesome?”  

“That’s actually really impressive.”  

I cut a piece for everyone, then stand back to watch as they all wait to try it together.  

“On three,” Lauren says once everyone has a plate, then sticks her fork in the cake. “One, two, three.”  

I watch everyone consume their bite, then start laughing at everyone’s different expressions. Zach grabs the entire thing with his hand and shoves it in his mouth after he’s swallowed his first forkful, which causes Kalene to nearly choke from laughter. Ariana and Ellie look at each other with wide eyes, Lauren, Ethan, Sean, and Logan all moan loudly, and Gabriel makes another lunge at the remaining half on the desk. I somehow manage to grab it first and yank it out of his reach.  

“This is amazing, Christi,” Logan says through a mouthful of crumbs. “You can up with this recipe yourself?”  

“Yeah,” I shrug shyly. “It took a while for me to perfect. Do you guys like it?”  

“Christi, this is literally the best thing I’ve ever had.”  

I only smile, then shake my head and start to cut another piece for Gabriel who has his plate extended towards me patiently.  

“Boom!” Sean yells and raises his arms triumphantly. Ethan scowls and crumples up his empty water bottle.  

“I bet I can make that from here,” he declares, then throws the plastic water bottle across the cafeteria and into the recycling.  

“Yes!” he cheers proudly and shoots out of his seat.  

“Ha,” Gabriel snorts and balls up his own bottle similar to Sean and Ethan. “I can do that with my eyes closed.”  

He stands and closes his eyes, furrows his eyebrows in concentration, and chucks it across the room. It lands in the recycling can with a thud, and both Sean and Ethan gape in disbelief as the rest of the Majors cheer.  

“How are you so good at everything?” Sean pouts as he props his face in the palm of his hand.  

Gabriel smiles proudly then sits back down. “Hear that, Christi?” he asks me from his seat next to me. “I’m good at everything.”  

I shake my head and roll my eyes. I can tell by his tone of voice that he’s joking, but after my near two and a half months of knowing him, I haven’t found something he’s not good at.  

I follow the Majors out of the cafeteria a few minutes later, and everyone walks together upstairs to the Majors coaching room for song rehearsal. As I walk and listen to the Majors talk, it seems to hit me that there’s only three more weeks until September first. Three more weeks until this is all over, three more weeks until I leave this fantasy to go back to the world I was living in before. It’s strange because right now, walking down these hallways feels like something I’ll do for the rest of my life. I can’t imagine not coming here every day or not seeing the Majors. Everything changed so quickly in these three short months. I went from quiet and shy and lost in my own world to happy and filled with an emotion that made me feel like I am a part of something. I’m going to lose it again once this is over, all for something that I haven’t even figured out yet.  

I look up ahead to the Majors trooping down the hall and suddenly feel sad. How will I be able to say goodbye? To the Academy, to the teachers, to the students? To the Majors, my nine best friends that just magically came out of nowhere for me. What am I even going back to? There’s all of my friends and family of course, but then there’s always that world of loneliness, the world where the nightmares aren’t worth it to suffer through. Where I’m stuck taking pills everyday then barely making it through life, writing music and baking to keep my mind off other things, not because it’s something I really want to do. This is what I really want to do. Live because it’s fun, not because I’m trying to keep my family from worrying about me. These past three months, I’ve been living for the first time in a while.  

Dr. Charm always tells me to appreciate what I have. She tells me nothing can be taken for granted because everything in my life works for the bigger picture, because we never know when life can change at any moment. I know that better than anyone. I know that in just one day, life can be turned upside down. Or it can be turned right side up. But looking back on it, I’ve never taken the Majors for granted. I’ve never taken coming to this school for granted. Maybe it’s because I know I’m going to lose it.  

And then there’s my sister. My sister who I thought I lost when she first came to the Academy but has really been with me through it all. She’s the one who brought me here, the one who has always pushed me to try new things, to show me that life is all about taking risks. And this time that I’ve spent with her at the Academy . . . I feel like it’s showed me all of her. Not just the side of her I see at home, but the other part that belongs at this school. My entire life, I only really knew half of her. I never understood this side to her, but now I do. I understand why she loves it here so much, why she ran and ran and ran until she finally made it. I get to be a part of that world with her. When I leave at the end of the summer, I don’t want to lose that piece.  

“This is ridiculous,” I suddenly hear Sean mutter behind me. “There’s got to be something we’re good at that he’s not.”  

I smile to myself and look up ahead to Gabriel, who seems completely oblivious to this conversation.  

“I don’t know, Sean,” Ethan sighs. “We just have to accept it.”  

“You guys are ridiculous,” I hear Logan say.  

“Oh really?” Sean whispers loudly. “Name one thing Gabriel is not good at.”  

There’s a long pause.  

“Cooking,” Logan says finally. “Remember that one time we stayed in Cincinnati for tour and him and Ethan burned down the—”  

“Ok, ok,” Ethan interrupts. “We do not need to tell that story for the hundredth time.”  

“He still got that pasta to taste decent though,” Sean whines. “Sure, he dropped the garlic bread and forgot to add eggs to the brownies, but he didn’t screw up everything. Gabriel’s never had one of those moments where he’s just failed.”  

“That’s very true,” Logan quips. “It’s just who he is, I guess.”  

“Not fair. No one can be good at everything.”  

“Well, he’s never had a girlfriend,” Ethan offers.  

“That definitely does not count,” Logan laughs. “You know Gabriel. He’s got a line of girls waiting for him. You’ve seen that kid out in public, right?”  

“Ok, you’re right there,” Ethan chuckles. “Didn’t he date that one girl two summers ago?”  

 “Yeah, they did go on a few dates, right? Then she just randomly moved to China or something like that.”  

“Oh, that,” Sean says bitterly. “I remember. He was really upset about it. Kinda weird seeing him sad like that. I wonder if it would have been different if he actually made her his girlfriend.”  

“It’s hard being with someone like him,” Ethan says. “I can see why he choose not to do anything. Celebrity relationships are hard.”  

“I actually liked her those few times we saw her,” Logan says thoughtfully. “She was nice.”  

“Lina was her name, right?” Ethan asks. “I remember her. I liked her too.”  

“Yeah, well, she’s long gone,” Logan chuckles. “An entire ocean away.”  

The boys move on to an entirely different topic after that, and I decide to stop eavesdropping.  

With the show drawing closer and closer, Ricky spends extra time with our songs from the play during our voice lesson. Lauren tells me he usually gets more uptight closer to a performance, but I think it’s great that he’s taking the extra time to perfect things. It amazes me how quickly this whole thing came together, how I was able to keep up with it all and have fun at the same time. It does get a little more intense as we get nearer to September first, but I enjoy every last second of it. Every last second I get to have at this school before it’s taken away from me.  

A week before the show, the nerves start to build. I’ve been expecting it, and I’ve been working with Dr. Charm on keeping myself calm during this busy last week. Last minute preparations are taken, and we finally start practicing with the set and in much longer chunks. It’s drawing to a close, and it’s not bringing me the feeling I expected. I’m not happy with myself like I thought I would be. I came into this thinking it would be my time to figure it all out, decide what I want to do next. Life decisions. That’s what this whole thing has been about. But now that the summer is almost over, I don’t know where to start. The only thing I’ve found that really matters to me is this school. These people.  

Dr. Charm tells me to reflect some more. Keep my options open. Penny suggests I do something with music if I’m so passionate about it. My father tells me he supports me in whatever I choose. Molly says to take more time to think about it. Taylor, Maya, and Emily encourage me to do some more exploring. There’s a world out there I have yet to see. I don’t know what to do. It’s hard to enjoy my last week here when it puts me in a foul mood. But I try my best to pretend like everything is fine even though I’m starting to feel lost all over again.  

The Academy is buzzing the last few days before the night of the play. We start to do full dress rehearsals with costumes, set, and all, and a crew of people start to decorate the entrance for the party afterward. Everyone is excited, even me, but the nerves make it hard to laugh and talk with everyone else. When Professor Darious shows us where the cameras will be placed to broadcast us on live TV, I feel like I’m about to vomit.  

A few nights before the show when I lay in bed as a nervous wreck, I think about all the people that will be watching me on that night. Not just on television, but in the audience too. I’ll have my father and Molly there to support me as well as the rest of my family, Dr. Charm and her husband and daughter, Penny, and Taylor, Maya, and Emily. Everyone is excited to go, and they’re all going to be there to support me. If that’s not enough to get me up on that stage, then I don’t know what is.  

I find myself staring at the stage more often than normal the few days before the night of the play, desperately trying to picture myself up there among some of the most talented people in the world. The fact of being on TV shocks me enough but being on TV with all twenty-nine other students makes it even more terrifying. Some part of my brain must believe that the longer I stare at the stage, the less nervous I’ll feel, because I can’t seem to tear my eyes off of it through the days I have left. It could be that, or maybe I just don’t want to forget it.  

I’m in another one of my lost gazes, all the nerves running through my brain, as Lauren rehearses her part for the song “Tightrope.” It’s at the end of the day, and she was asked to stay for a few more minutes to rehearse one more time. I think she was really excited that she got to perform this song on her own as Charity Barnum, and she’s definitely blowing it out the window. Her voice is mesmerizing, which is perfect for this beautiful set. Everything about it is breathtaking, including her. Honestly, they should just move her up as a number one Major. She would be perfect.  

Recently, I’ve liked to stay and watch the extra few minutes after everyone has left. Sometimes it’s me that stays and rehearses extra, but I love watching everyone else. Every single person here is captivating. Lauren, who’s noticed that I like to stay and watch, usually invites me to do something after during her free period. She claims to really like me, that it’s fun to have an opposite to her, so we’ve gone out a few times just the two of us. Kalene sometimes stays after with me and occasionally joins us, but most of the time, it’s just me and Lauren. I really love spending the extra time with her. Just like she said, we are opposites. Maybe it’s why we enjoy each other’s company so much because we balance each other out. We make brief eye contact while Ricky talks to her, and I smile when she sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes.  

I shake my head at Lauren once her attention is back on Ricky and lean back in my seat. I hope I’m able to keep in touch with her once I’m gone, just like I hope to with the rest of the Majors. I’ve never met and been friends with anyone like her, with anyone like the other Majors for that matter, and parts of me stab with sadness yet again at the reminder that I’m going to lose them.  

“Hey. You haven’t left yet.”  

I glance sideways just in time to see Gabriel jump over the seat to land in the chair next to me. He grins and leans back comfortably.  

“Yeah, I know they told me I could leave, but I wanted to stay and watch Lauren,” I tell him.  

“Figures. She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”  

“She’s amazing.”  

“This song is a good fit for her,” he agrees, then we fall into a silence as we continue to watch her. I can still see him out of the corner of my eye though, leaning forward on the chair in front of him just like he did at my audition. I remember that first day I met him, how I thought he had a celebrity glow around him that intimidated me immensely. But the longer I’ve known him and the closer we’ve gotten, the less I see that. Actually, I can barely even see it at all now. He’s just Gabriel, as casual as he is now leaning on the seat in from of him watching Lauren.  

For a brief moment, I picture what it would be like to be his other number one Major. To go to this school, to be able to see him and the Majors every day. It’s the first time I’ve let myself think about the possibility ever since my grandmother mentioned it to me. It’s just seemed so unrealistic. Maybe it still is, but I can dream. Going here would be a dream. This entire summer has been a dream. But something tells me it’s always going to be out of reach. Just a figment of my imagination. After this summer is over, this whole thing will seem like a dream. The possibility of being a Major, of being Gabriel Walker’s partner, will fade away.  

“It always amazes me how quickly these summers go by,” Gabriel randomly speaks. Neither of us look away from Lauren, but he knows I’m listening. “I guess your days here are coming to a close, huh?”  

“Yeah,” I say, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. “It’s coming to a close, I guess.”  

There’s a long moment of silence before he finally says, “I’ll miss you.”  

I smile the slightest bit and finally turn to face him. His mouth is quirked up in a smile, but his eyes are serious. He’s not kidding. “I’ll miss you too,” I say finally.  

We look back out to watch Lauren, falling into another comfortable silence. I prop my feet on the seat in front of me as she nears the end.  

“Can I tell you something?” I say after a moment.  

“Go for it.”  

“I don’t really know what I’m going to do after this play.” I surprise myself with my own words. Small parts of me regret randomly blurting that out, reveling a small piece of myself that I’ve never really admitted to anyone else. The only person I’ve mentioned my anxiousness towards the future is Dr. Charm.  

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks me, and I feel him look at me again. I don’t look back, afraid that he’ll somehow be able to see right through me. I don’t want to continue anymore, but I guess it’s already out there.  

“Well, once this is over, you’ll go back to your regular schedule of touring,” I try to explain. “It’s a pattern you follow. Something you’re sure about. I guess I just . . . don’t know what comes after this.”  

I don’t have to explain myself to him to know that he understands. I can tell by the way he crosses his arms thoughtfully, the way he glances out ahead of him again. It’s a feeling that radiates off him, one that I can feel too. It’s comforting to know that I don’t have to reveal every single part of myself to him like I do everyone else. Somehow, he just gets it, and he’s not at all freaked out by it.  

“I guess you just take things one day at a time,” he says after a moment. “We all go through that. Not knowing what to expect, I mean. I suppose you just have to live in the moment, as hard as that sounds.”  

“Yeah, you’re right. I just think it’ll be weird. I’ve gotten so used to going here.”  

“We’ve all gotten used to having you,” he says with a small lift of his head. “It’ll be different for us too.”  

I consider saying something else, but then Lauren’s song ends, and both Gabriel and I stand to applaud her along with Ricky and Professor Darious, who are still here too.  

“Aw, thanks guys,” Lauren gushes as she blows me and Gabriel a kiss.  

“Great job, Lauren,” Ricky says as him and Professor Darious stand and walk over to the stage. “We’ve got a couple notes for you. Gabriel, can you walk over to the booth and switch off the speakers?”  

“Sure,” he chirps, then shoots out of his seat then down the center aisle to the sound booth.  

Gabriel plops down in the seat next to me a second later, just as Lauren, Ricky, and Professor Darious finish up their conversation.  

“We’re headed out,” Ricky announces as he follows Professor Darious and Lauren off the stage and backstage to the exit. “Hit the lights on the way out.”  

They disappear around the corner, but neither Gabriel nor I move for a moment. I just watch the stage, and he patiently waits for me. Once I hear the door from backstage, I finally stand and walk up to the stage to rest my hands on the wood above me. I’m going to be performing here in just a few days in front of the entire country. That’s both amazing and terrifying at the same time.  

“I should head out,” I say finally and turn back around to face Gabriel.  

“Yeah,” he says as he gets to his feet. “You—”  

Before he can finish, there’s a loud click, and every light turns off. I freeze. It’s now pitch-black. I can’t even see a foot in front of me. There’s a small giggle that I immediately recognize as Lauren’s.  

“What the hell?” Gabriel yells. “LAUREN TURN THE LIGHTS ON RIGHT NOW!”  

There’s a loud laugh, the sound of a door opening and closing, then it’s just the dark again. I’m frozen in fear, unable to move and unable to form words.  

“I’m going to kill her,” Gabriel grumbles in frustration. “Christi, are you ok? You still there?”  

I gulp and try to get my words back. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” My voice comes out incredibly strangled, and Gabriel must hear it.  

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?”  

“Yeah, I—I don’t really like the dark.” My heart is pounding furiously through my terror, and I desperately try to calm myself down. I can’t have a panic attack here. Not now.  

“Sh*t, ok, I’m going to come try and find you. Do you have your phone on you?”  

“No, it’s in my bag by the doors,” I choke as my hands flatten on the stage behind me, desperate to hold onto something to steady myself. “I’m guessing you don’t have yours.”  

“No, I left it in the sitting room. Don’t panic, ok? I’ll come to you.”  

I’m too terrified to be thankful that he’s not babying me, he’s only trying to help me. So I wait in the dark, scared out of my mind. Being in the dark reminds me too much of Eric and that night in his room, the constant blacking out then the emptiness of the coma I was in. I try to fight down those thoughts, try to fight down the panic that is coming with them.  

“Ouch,” Gabriel whispers. “That was an armrest that I just banged my knee off of. Ok, you’re around the middle of the stage, right?”  

“Yes,” I croak.  

“Ok, I think I made it to the aisle. If I run into you, don’t panic.”  

It’s suddenly quiet again, and the fear of darkness and not knowing what’s around me freaks me out immensely. I reach out my hands in front of me, trying to feel for something around me. When my hand hits something solid, I freeze in panic.  

“Gabriel, please tell me that’s you.”  

“That would be my face,” he chuckles. 

I jerk my hand back, and for once, I’m relived how dark it is so he can’t see my red face. “Whoops. Sorry.”  

“It’s ok. Hold out your hands again so I don’t run into you.”  

I extend my arms again, and just a moment later, he takes my hands in his. I instantly feel so much better now that I’m not alone.  

“I think if we just walk straight, we should make it to the doors and your bag,” Gabriel says as he pulls me forwards so we’re standing side by side. “Hold my hand, I’ll go first in case we hit the wall or something.” I gulp again and let him lead me through the darkness. “I swear I’m going to strangle Lauren once we get out of here. Don’t take this personally, it’s just her idea of a stupid joke.”  

I let out a forced chuckle, too desperate to get the hell out of here to actually laugh at his comment.  

“I feel the wall,” Gabriel says triumphantly, and sure enough, I can feel it with my own hand just a moment later. Thank God. “If we walk a little this way . . . found it!”  

I hear him tug on the door, but all that comes back to us a loud rattle. They’re locked.  

“Well that complicates things,” I huff. “Maybe if we try and find my bag, we’ll find my phone.”  

“Good idea,” he agrees. “Start feeling around.”  

Refusing to let go of Gabriel’s hand to keep myself calm, I reach out my other hand to feel around the floor. I remember setting it somewhere around here, right by the door.  

“Got it,” Gabriel says after a few minutes of searching. “Here, see if you can find your phone in there.”  

I take my bag and blindly feel around for my phone. Finally, I grab it and pull it out. The flashlight lights up the area around us, and I relax when I spot him standing in front of me with a small smile. His face looks a little creepy lit up like this, but it’s relieving to see him.  

“Well, that was eventful,” he says merrily. “Let’s get out of here.”  

With my flashlight leading us through the darkness, Gabriel and I walk back up the center aisle. After trekking back up on the stage, through the dark and ropes of backstage, and finally to the door, which is thankfully still unlocked.  

The second we make it to the bright lights of the dressing room hallway, I let out a breath of relief. The feeling of suffocation is gone, and when I turn to look at Gabriel to thank him, he’s shooting a livid glare at a giggling Lauren.  

“That was not funny.”  

Lauren roars with laughter, and even though I was terrified just a second ago, I can’t help but smile.  

The last rehearsal is long and drains me of all energy. After the day is over and it’s time for me to leave, the nerves start firing. It no longer seems to matter that I’m completely exhausted, because I’m now terrified with every ounce of my body. The next time I’ll be on the Roanin Academy stage, it will be for the entire country.  

I go straight home and work on calming myself down, but nothing makes it better. I call Taylor and talk to her for a little, have one short phone call conversation with Dr. Charm, eat dinner with my father, then try to distract myself by writing until it’s time to go to bed. I’m desperate for something, anything, to put my mind on something else, to give me some sort of brief relief. But every time I try, my mind shoots the image of a crowd with hundreds of people.  

I barely sleep at all that night, but I guess that’s expected. I try to nap since I don’t have to be at the Academy until later, but the nausea in my stomach prevents it. My father tires to distract me again by having me help him make lunch, but strange feelings of excitement and terror mix together so I can barely think straight. When it’s time for me to leave, I’m practically shaking as I finish gathering my things.  

“I know it’s useless to tell you not to be nervous,” my father says as he watches me, “but it’s true. I know you’re going to do great.”  

“Yeah, thanks,” I say distantly as I finally make it to the door where he stands. “I always freak out before stuff like this. It’ll go away, right?”  

“I’m sure the second you get on stage, the nerves will disappear,” my father assures me. He gently rests his hands on my shoulders and kisses my forehead. “You know how to sing. You know how to do this. It’s as simple as breathing.”  

I smile meekly then give him a tight hug and a light kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Dad,” I tell him gratefully as I step back. “I’ll see you when the show’s over.”   

He smiles and waves, then I finally push myself outside to my car.  

The school is bustling more than I’ve ever seen it when I finally make it to the entrance. People are running around making last minute changes to the afterparty setup, yelling loudly, and hanging and setting things up. I pass a young woman yelling at someone to make sure the centerpieces are actually centered, another snapping at workers to call the catering company, and a crew of men carrying in a large table for the food. I squeeze my way through the groups of people and walk back to the dressing room hallway. It’s just as loud and chaotic back here with people running around shouting things and the students talking happily to each other. I smile slightly but feel another pang in my heart.  

“Christi!” I hear the distant squeal of Lauren, and when I turn my head, I spot her frantically waving me down the hallway towards her Logan. “There you are!”  

I smile and walk towards her as she continues to wave her arms wildly. The second I’m close enough, she yanks me to her and gives me a tight but warm side hug.  

“Hey there, superstar. You ready?” she asks excitedly.  

“Yeah,” I say with a shaky laugh. “A little nervous.”  

“Everyone’s going to love you,” Logan smiles encouragingly from where he stands across from Lauren with his arms crossed. “Don’t be scared. Just go out there and picture everyone in their underwear.”  

“That’s too cliché,” Lauren says with a shake of her head. “When I’m nervous, I don’t even look at the audience at all. Just pretend that it’s a dress rehearsal.”  

“Thanks, guys,” I say with a tight smile.  

“I remember my first show,” Logan says with a fond smile. “I missed my cue to come on stage and left everyone in a fifteen second awkward pause.”  

My stomach drops to the floor. Lauren roars with laughter.  

“Attention please,” Professor Darious suddenly calls from the end of the hallway before anyone can say anything else. “We will have one more dress rehearsal with no costume to run through some details, then you are to get changed as soon as we finish. If everyone could please get ready to rehearse, that would be splendid.”  

Lauren breaks off from Logan and I since she’s not in the first scene, then the two of us walk together backstage. Everyone that’s supposed to be on stage is waiting, including my sister and the few Majors, Minors and Juniors that are also supposed to be here. Kalene is smiling brightly out at the stage, clearly excited. There’s not an ounce of nervousness on her face. I didn’t expect there to be.  

“Hey, Christi,” she greets me the second I’m at her side, ready to walk on the stage when Ricky tells us to. She slings an arm around my shoulder and tugs me to her side. “Excited for tonight?”  

“Kind of terrified.”  

Kalene shakes her head and smiles at me. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing it, but you’re going to do great.”   

“That’s what Lauren and I were just saying,” Logan agrees as he winks. “Listen to your sister, Christi. I know that this is all a little daunting, but you were born for it.”  

“Exactly.”  

“And it’s totally normal to be nervous. I still get nervous. Gabriel does too, and he’s been performing since he was eight.”  

“Places, please!” Ricky yells before I get the chance to respond, and Kalene drags me forward to walk out onto the stage with the rest of P.T Barnum’s crew.  

Everyone casually works around each other to find their positions while I stand there shaking. It’s not even the actual performance and I’m about to explode. Everything around me, the set, the people, the crew working to get the cameras ready, makes me feel like I’m about to throw up. It’s all real. It’s really happening in just a few hours.  

“All set back there, Gabriel?” Ella calls from the audience. Gabriel gives a thumbs up from where he’s supposed to start out in the audience, then the beginning music starts.  

After nearly two hours of one last rehearsal, Professor Darious ushers everyone to their dressing room to get changed. Conversation breaks out again almost immediately, and I make my way through the mob of people to Maria Diaz’s old dressing room. London, Floral, Jaden, Athena, and Harry are already there waiting for me, and the second I make it inside, they go right to work.  

They use every last second of the hour or so we have to dress me up. I get in the fancy blue dress we choose for the opening scene and “The Greatest Show”. They decided not to do extravagant makeup and hair for the opening scene since I’ll have to change out of it for the old clothes I have to wear when my character is introduced, but they assured me I would have the big look for “This is Me”. My team does an incredible job as expected. When they’re finally done and I look at my final look, I still don’t believe that’s me. As I stare at my reflection, I really do think I look beautiful. I’m not cringing at the dreadful scar on my arm, not at the girl Eric forced me to believe I was. It’s just me. Just Christi. Thinking about it now, I realize that this play forced me see that.  

“Is it weird that you look kind of awesome in that beard?” Athena asks as we all admire their work.  

“Just a little,” I giggle. “It’s looks amazing, guys. Thank you.”  

“Just remember to come straight here after your scenes so we can get you ready for the next scene,” London reminds me. “You’re going to do amazing tonight.”  

“Kill it, baby!” Jaden yells loudly 

I laugh at him through the reflection of the mirror, then the five of them push me back outside to the hallway. Mostly everyone is out here all decked out in costume as they run around to get to their positions. I maneuver my way through the crowd to find my way backstage, smiling at people as they pass. Everyone looks incredible in costume, and it amazes me how this whole thing has finally come together.  

“Christi Rodgers, looking stunning as always,” Gabriel calls to me as we pass each other in the hall. He’s already dressed in the famous P.T Barnum suit, spinning his top hat on his finger as he walks towards me.  

“Nice suit,” I say as we pass each other, and he grins wickedly.   

“Nice beard.” 

I walk until I find a few of the Majors waiting by the door that leads backstage, then wave at Ellie who is wildly gesturing me over. She’s only has her makeup and hair done since her character doesn’t come on until later, but she still looks stunning. Kalene and Zach are there too, and they’re dressed and ready to go.  

“You rock the beard,” Ellie nods approvingly.  

“It feels kind of weird,” I admit as I play with the ends, “but it’s growing on me.”  

“Are you excited, little sister?” Kalene shrieks suddenly as she steps forward to shake me by the shoulders. I laugh and grab onto her. “You’re totally going to smash everyone out of their seats!”  

“Don’t hype me up too much, Kalene.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me.  

“You’re going to have a lot of fun tonight, Christi,” Zach says as he shakes his head at my crazy sister. “This is my favorite night of the year.”  

“Mine too,” Ellie agrees. “It’s a fan favorite for the rest of the country.”  

At the sound of it, my stomach tightens all over again. The entire country. The entire country is going to be watching me.  

“If I could have your attention again, please,” Professor Darious suddenly booms, and everyone falls silent. “Would the students and coaches please join me over here? Backstage crew, please make sure everything is in order and ready to go. Curtain opens in ten minutes.”  

Kalene starts to squeal excitedly as the students start walking over, and she grabs my arm tightly to drag me over. The nerves continue to churn through my stomach as we walk over together, but when I look around me at everyone else talking excitedly, it lessens the slightest bit. When my sister and I make it to the crowd, everyone stands in a large circle with Professor Darious smiling in the middle. Kalene puts an arm around my shoulder, and Ariana does the same on my other side. I stare around at everyone linked together in one large circle, and a strike of emotion blows to my stomach. I’m actually here with them, about to go on and perform in front of millions of people. It’s really about to happen. This thing that we’ve all be working on all summer is finally ending. It’s all led up to this. The hours and hours of work, the endless rehearsals. All for this.  

“Well, congratulations on the end to another amazing summer,” Professor Darious says as he beams around at his group of students. “I’m extremely grateful to each and every one of you for putting one hundred percent effort into our play this summer, and I’m very excited to see how it turns out in just a few minutes. Thank you all for making me very proud this summer.” He smiles fondly and pauses for a moment, then slowly turns around to face me. “I would also like to extend a special thank you to Christi Rodgers for helping us out this summer. She has done a fantastic job working with us, and we couldn’t have chosen a better young lady to play the role.”  

Everyone around me bursts into cheers and applause, and I smile shyly as I fight the pink on my cheeks. “On that note,” Professor Darious chirps happily, “would the people in the first scene please make their way backstage?”  

Everyone breaks and starts talking again, and Professor Darious barely has time to call out, “Break a leg!” before everyone is moving around again. I follow some of the students backstage with Kalene talking excitedly behind me, my furious butterflies slamming at my insides. I feel just like I did before my audition, nervous and wanting to vomit but running on a strange excitement.  

In the newfound quiet of backstage, I can now hear the chatter of people in the audience. I try to picture my friends and family sitting out there as Ricky gives us all a quiet smile and helps us find positions on stage behind the lowered curtain. I take a deep breath in the darkness as the chatter suddenly dies down and Professor Darious starts talking to the audience. It all comes down to this, I guess. The moment that I’ve been waiting for from the moment Eric died, the moment that is supposed to show me that my life is not ruined. I think that this summer, I’ve really come to understand that. That I really can do anything I put my mind to, and that once this night is over, I have to use that in my real life to find my place in the world.  

Professor Darious must be walking off the stage because there’s a light applause, and I barely have time to take one last deep breath before the curtain rises and the music starts. I’m very grateful that the stage is dark right now because I’m sure my face is full of panic when I spot the camera right in front of me. But the second I start singing my harmonies with the rest of the people on the stage with me, it doesn’t seem as scary. It’s just another rehearsal.  

When the first background notes end and it’s Gabriel’s turn, the spotlight shines on him and I’m able to breathe for a second while all eyes are on him. How he remains completely unphased and totally in character totally amazes me. As he dances his way up to the stage just as rehearsed, I take a moment to stare at the audience. There are a lot of people. To think that this isn’t even a fraction of the eyes watching me is terrifying.  

When Gabriel eventually reaches the stage, everything is suddenly bright and flashing, and I become aware that people can definitely see me now. But as the seconds drag by where I sing and dance my part, that seems to matter less and less. Right now, I’m running on pure adrenaline. It all becomes a blur.  

When the short introduction song ends and it’s now time for the flashback with young P.T Barnum, I feel like I can breathe again. I almost laugh to myself as the excitement and adrenaline in me slowly dies down. Everyone gives me an excited hug as the beginning of “A Million Dreams” starts, and Gabriel gives me a thumbs up from where his dress team is quickly getting him ready for his part in just a few minutes.  

“You did it, Christi!” Kalene screeches loudly once we’re finally back out in the hallway.  

“Now you know you can get out there without throwing up,” Logan says as he pasts me on the back, and I chuckle nervously. My heart is racing and I’m breathing heavily, but I really do feel great. My face feels warm and flushed with excitement, and my stomach is soaring in achievement. I can’t believe I just did that.  

“You guys were great!” Ellie yells excitedly as she comes running up to us. “I saw you guys on the TV over there. If you’re quick, you can catch Lauren and Gabriel’s part before you have to get dressed again.”  

She grabs my hand and tugs me down the hallway to where a large chunk of students is crowded around a TV set up in the hallway. Ellie tugs me to the front, and I watch in amazement. Lauren isn’t on yet, so Gabriel is singing by himself. He’s incredible. The set is beautiful, and the hazy blue light makes him look like some kind of ghost. He’s the one that makes it perfect, though. The joy is clearly written across his face, but he somehow makes me forget that he’s Gabriel. He looks like P.T Barnum.  

“Wow. He’s doing great.”  

“Yeah, you thought he was good in rehearsals,” Ellie nods. “He’s even better in the real thing. Like a whole new person.”  

“Yeah. He really is.”  

It’s true. Gabriel has always amazed me every time he’s sung or preformed, but this is something totally different. It reminds me of the time I saw him during the solo concert. His face is suddenly ten times brighter, and an energy radiates off him that I can feel through the screen. He’s singing like this might be his last time on a stage.  

“No wonder they cast him in Broadway before he came here,” I say as I watch Lauren join him on the stage, and they start their part together. “His stage presence is incredible.”  

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Ellie agrees. “Just wanted you to see him. You better go get changed before your next scene.”  

I pry my eyes off the screen, we say a quick goodbye to each other, then I make my way down the hallway back to the dressing room. London, Floral, Jaden, Athena, and Harry quickly get me ready in my next costume, then I rush back outside to wait backstage for my turn. Everything still looks like it’s going smoothly, but a few butterflies start to flutter around in my stomach again. This is going to be my first big moment, a moment where everyone will definitely be able to hear me since I’m supposed to sing and say a few lines. God, if I can’t even get through this, how am I going to sing an entire song by myself?  

I shake my head clear as Ricky cues for me to go on stage with the other people in the scene. Silently, I try to convince myself that I can do this. I got through the first scene; I can get through this too. When it’s time for me to sing and talk, my mind goes empty and I’m able to focus. I suddenly remember why I’m here and why I’m doing this in the first place. It’s like an instinct being up here, like I don’t even need to think to do what I’m supposed to do. It all comes naturally. I just let my body do the talking, acting, singing, and dancing.  

Since I’m in a lot of scenes now, I barely have time to stop and think about being nervous. I’m dressed and redone in a matter of minutes so I can go back on, but the closer “This is Me” gets, the song that I’m going to have to sing the best I possibly can, nerves start to fight their way back. This is the song that everyone is waiting for, the most iconic song of the whole thing, and I definitely cannot mess it up. Everyone’s eyes will certainly be on me here.  

I’m trying to calm myself down as Ellie sings “Never Enough” on stage. I’ve been doing good so far, there’s no reason that this will crash and burn. I’ve practiced it an infinite number of times, and I’m a good singer. It’ll be fine. That’s what everyone’s been telling me, anyways. I’m natural with this kind of thing.  

Still, I bounce on my toes and stare out on the stage where Ellie is still singing. I’m trying to use her voice as a distraction, but it’s not working. Neither is the quiet whisper behind me where the rest of P.T Barnum’s crew is waiting with me.  

“Christi,” someone whispers behind me. I flinch and spin around. Gabriel smiles crookedly. “Just wanted the chance to tell you good luck with your song. I can tell you’re nervous. You’re going to do great.”  

“Thanks,” I smile back in a whisper. “You’re doing great out there.”  

“You too,” he says, then rolls his eyes at Ricky who’s frantically waving him over to get back on stage. “I better get back out there. You’re gonna kill it, Christi.”  

He steps past me to go back out onto the stage, and I smile to myself as I turn back around to watch him.  

Just a few minutes later, it’s time for me to go on. The whole party scene plays out, and then just like that, the music is starting and I’m singing. I can’t explain it, but within the first line, I’m in my own world. Maybe it’s the power of this song or the power of myself or the power of this moment, but whatever it is, I feel it. I feel it run through me as I sing, and when the choreography starts, I feel that in me too. The entire moment within itself is incredible. Up here with this song, up here with my best friends, it’s all perfect. It’s all something I never thought I would have ever again, but I do.  

Everything is so emotional towards the end; I have to force myself to push back the tears. It’s these lyrics that are speaking to me and these people by my side. The thought that just a year ago, I was so different. Inside, I was dying. But that’s not where I am now. I’m here, right here, in front of all these people, some of them probably the kids at my school who don’t believe their eyes.  

I don’t believe it, but as soon as the song is over and everyone is in their ending positions, everyone is on their feet cheering and applauding wildly. I swear I think I might be dreaming. It certainly feels like it. I never thought I was going to get here. Ever. I never thought I was going to stand up on this stage, beam out at these faces, be surrounded by all these incredible people. The second the curtain is fully closed for intermission, everyone on the stage starts cheering as they wrap me in a giant hug. I have to fight back tears again as I chuckle lightly and hug them back.  

“You did amazing, little sister,” Kalene shrieks as she leads me off the stage back out to the hallway. “That was incredible! You blew everyone away. Did you see them? They were on their feet!”  

“Yeah, Kalene, I saw it.”  

“Great job, Christi,” Professor Darious nods as we pass him, and Ricky gives me a thumbs up. 

I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ve never had this many people praising me. Too many parts of me feel like I’m dreaming. There’s no way that it’s real, no way that this is actually real life. This is the kind of stuff that happens in movies, not to ordinary people like me.  

 Kalene steps away from me so all of the Majors can wrap me in another group hug, and I smile shyly as they all shout praise. Once everyone has finally hurried back to dressing rooms, I’m just about to do the same when I feel a light tug on my arm. I don’t flinch like I normally do. Instead, I just casually turn around. Gabriel let’s go of my arm. We’re both smiling at each other when he winks.  

“I was right.”  

The rest of the show goes by quickly as soon as we start the second act. I no longer get nervous before I go on, and things are a lot more fun now that I’m not freaking out. I really wish it wasn’t going by this fast now because as soon as it’s over, it’s really going to be over. No more coming back here. When I look around at everything going on around me, it breaks my heart.  

But since I don’t have the ability to stop or slow down time, the very last scene does come. The last time I walk onto the stage, everything seems so much brighter. Everyone stands together to sing the last song, and then before I know it, it’s time for the bows. I still feel like I’m dreaming when everyone applauds me loudly as I take my bow. I stare out past the bright shining lights at the faces cheering and find my heart swelling even more. I can so clearly picture my family and friends out there cheering above everyone else, just like they’ve always done for Kalene. Now it’s for the both of us. I glance sideways at Lauren just as she takes my hand and holds it tightly. I instinctively reach over to grab Gabriel’s, our hands find each other, then I smile at him briefly before all thirty of us bow together. The music cuts, and everything is suddenly dark again.   

The second the curtain is closed, everyone backstage breaks out into cheers and screams. I laugh as Lauren scoops me into a hug and forces me to jump up and down with her. Kalene rushes over and starts screaming in my ear, Gabriel winks at me over the chaos, and Zach grabs Sean by the waist and spins him around. Everyone standing backstage; the stage crew, three coaches, and Professor Darious all smile as they give us a light applause. It feels like a complete whirlwind, like I’m in a dream. Parts of me feel like everything has led up to this, not just from the events of the summer, but from the events of my life.  

“Great job, everyone,” Professor Darious calls above the noise. “This was truly a showstopping performance. Well done. If everyone could head back out to the hallway to line up for the party, that would be excellent.”  

The loud talking and excitement travels backstage, and I feel like I’m floating on a cloud as everyone makes their way back out to the hallway. The people around me break away as the start to form a line, the typical formation they make when walking out. The Majors are at the front, then the Minors, then the Juniors. I suddenly freeze awkwardly, not sure what to do. No one ever mentioned this to me, and I have no idea where to go.  

“Come on, Christi,” Gabriel says suddenly as he whizzes past me and takes my hand. “You’re walking out with me.”  

“Wait, what?” I sputter as I’m dragged to the very front with Gabriel.  

“Yep,” he says casually as he links his arm through him.  

“I—” I start, but then stop. What’s the point of arguing? “Ok, then.” 

He grins and takes his top hat to spin around in his free hand as I turn around and glance at the rest of the students behind me. They’re talking to each other, and everyone is ready to go. Kalene catches my eye from where her arm is linked through Zach’s and gives me an excited smile. This is crazy.  

“Are we ready?” Professor Darious suddenly yells from right in front of me and Gabriel. Everyone calls back some sort of acknowledgement, and he nods. “Great. If everyone would follow me and the coaches, please.”  

Gabriel and I step forward and lead the rest of the students after the four adults. I glance over my shoulder again at everyone else. I still can’t believe this.  

“Are you nervous? Your hand is shaking.” Gabriel observes. 

“Sorry,” I mutter and will my hand to stop moving.  

“It’s ok,” he tells me. “Don’t be scared. All we have to do is walk straight out.”  

“You’ve probably done this a million times, huh?”  

“Not a million,” he says as he looks down at me with a smirk. “Maybe a hundred. Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine.”  

I still have no idea what I’m doing, so I let Gabriel take the lead as we walk out to the entrance after the three coaches and Professor Darious. Everyone claps just like they did at Kalene’s end of year concert party, and when I turn my head to look at the mob of people, I nearly pass out. It takes me back to that night when I watched the Majors walk out, when I was one of the guests watching from the crowd. Now here I am, at the lead and among the students as I walk out.  

Gabriel leads me all the way down to the end of the hallway so we make a long line of students, and Professor Darious steps forward to address the crowd of people.  

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he beams as the room falls silent. “I hope everyone enjoyed the show tonight. I’m very proud of our students for putting on another spectacular performance. I would also yet again like to thank Christi Rodgers for helping us this summer. She has truly done an amazing job and is a very talented young lady.”  

Everyone’s eyes are suddenly on me as the room applauds again, and I smile shyly. My face even starts to get red when I hear Kalene yell, “Yeah, Christi!”  

“I won’t keep you any longer than I have to,” Professor Darious concludes. “Enjoy the party!”  

Conversation breaks out again, and I barely have the chance to breathe before Kalene has her hand wrapped around my arm. I chuckle as she drags me forward. My head turns, and I smile over my shoulder at Gabriel who is shaking his head as his family surrounds him. Once Kalene and I finally find our family and friends in the crowded entrance, they all cheer when they see us. I smile shyly while my sister takes a dramatic bow.  

“My beautiful girls,” our father gushes as he’s the first to rush up to us. “You both were spectacular. I’m so proud.”  

My sister and I grin as he comes to give us a hug, and I think in that moment, we’re all a little emotional. Finally, after all the fighting and hardship we’ve been through together, things finally feel like they’re ok again. All the hard work has finally paid off, and I know my father and my sister feel that with me. The three of us go through everything together. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it always will be. They felt it when Eric died. My father and I felt it when Kalene struggled to get to the Academy. My sister and I felt it when our father went through his divorce. My eyes start to water at the pure emotion of this moment, and when I glance at my sister over our father’s shoulder, I see that she’s tearing up too.  

“Well done, girls,” he whispers. “Well done. I’m so proud.”  

We finally pull back from each other, and I let out a tearful laugh when Kalene quickly wipes her eyes to hide her tears.  

After exchanging one last happy smile with the two of them, the rest of my family comes rushing forward to congratulate me and Kalene. I say hello to Molly and the rest of my family, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, then finally make my way to Dr. Charm, Officer Charm, and their small daughter Catherine.  

“Nice to see you again, Christi,” Officer Charm greets me with a smile as he shakes my hand. “Under better circumstances, thankfully. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well.”  

“Yeah,” I say with a bitter laugh when I remember our meeting over Eric’s death at the beginning of the year. “Yeah, I’ve been doing well recently. Thank you.”  

He gives me a polite nod, then moves aside. Dr. Charm hands her daughter to her husband, then steps forward and gives me a tight hug. I squeeze my eyes shut and hug her back tightly. I try to pour every emotion out of me into our hug, all the thanks I have for her, the gratefulness that she’s been there for me not just as a therapist, but as a friend. She helped me in ways no one else could, in ways that really did save my life.  

“I’m very proud of you, Christi,” she says, and I’m surprised to hear her normally calm voice shake with emotion. “I’m so, so proud. You look beautiful.”  

I pull back from her and wipe the tears off my face. “Even with the beard?”  

She laughs and smiles as she shakes her head at me. “Yes, Christi. Even with the beard. Here, I got some flowers for you.”  

I thank her profusely as she hands me a bouquet of beautiful flowers, then say hello to her small daughter Catherine.  

I greet Penny next and thank her for all her help. She gives me another bunch of flowers, then I finally make it to Taylor, Maya, and Emily. I make sure to tell them how beautiful they all look, but then they scoop me in a group hug before I can say anything else. I smile and get teary-eyed again as they tell me how proud they are.  

“It’s great to see someone like us get a happy beginning like this,” Taylor says with a bright smile. “Your life is going to change, Christi. Good for you.”  

 “Thank you, guys, for encouraging me through all of this,” I tell them. “Really. I couldn’t have done any of it without any of you.”  

“It’s great having a group of sisters,” Maya suddenly gushes, and we all laugh as she hugs us again.  

I don’t get a moment alone that night. When I’m not talking to my family and friends that came to watch me, I’m talking to one of the other Majors or coaches. I don’t know how long I’ve been out here talking to people, but I’m having a lot of fun. Parties have never really been my thing, but I’m really enjoying myself. I don’t want it to end. Because when this ends, then it’s really going to end. I’m going to go take all this off and leave, leave to never come back. It will all be over, and I’ll go back to whatever world I was living in before, the world where I really have no idea what I’m doing. Not here where I know I can do something I’m good at it.  

But the night can’t last forever, and I can’t stop time, so slowly but surely, people start clearing out. My aunts, uncles, and cousins leave first, then the Charms, then my grandparents, then Taylor, Maya, and Emily. My father and Molly are the last to leave when only a few guests are left.  

“I’ll take these for you, flower,” my father offers, and he takes my bunches of bouquets from me. “I’ll see you at home.”  

I thank him as he takes my flowers, then watch as he kisses Kalene on the cheek and says goodbye.  

“Great job, girls,” Molly says kindly as she hugs us goodbye. “Thanks for inviting me.”  

“Thanks for coming,” Kalene says cheerfully, and Molly and my father leave shortly after.  

Once they’re out the door and Kalene links our arms to guide me back to the dressing rooms, a pit of sadness fills me. It’s over. It’s really over. My sister and I split ways to go to separate dressing rooms, and I sulk inside to take everything off. My dress team helps me take off my makeup and the beard, then I let my hair down and take off the fancy dress. I know I’m stalling just because I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave this place, this thing that I’ve made for myself. But I know I have to. I have to go back and fix my real life, not this fantasy that I’ve been living in. This isn’t real life.  

“Thank you, guys, for everything,” I tell my team as I gather the rest of my things. “You really did make me feel beautiful tonight. Thank you.”  

“It was very nice to meet you, Christi,” Harry says with a sad smile. “You’re going to go far in life. I hope we can see you again someday.”  

“Yeah, me too,” I say as I give them all one last hug. “Thanks for everything. Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning things up?”  

“We’ll be ok, honey,” Athena assures me as she starts to put away the millions of products. “You go home and get some rest. You’ve worked hard this summer.”  

I smile, thank them one last time, then turn to walk back outside. My hand lands on the doorknob, and I glance over my shoulder one last time at the spectacular room. This is definitely something I never thought I would do. I’m not going to forget getting dressed up in this room and that feeling I got when I saw my reflection all decked out in my costume. I turn back around and finally open the door. It’s time to go home, I guess. My feet move forward to step outside and my hand closes the door behind me. I turn around to take another step forward, but suddenly stop dead in my tracks.  

All nine Majors stand in front of me, back in their normal clothes as they stand in front of me with sad but genuine smiles. My sister holds yet another bouquet of flowers, and when my eyes land on them, she extends them towards me. I don’t even try to hold back my sadness or my watering eyes as I drop everything I’m holding to rush to them.  

Everyone hugs me tightly, and I’m suddenly torn between feeling happy and sad. Happy because I’ve never had a group of friends like this; people that I really love and people that like me for me, not because they feel bad for the person that went through something terrible. Sad because I’m never going to have this again. Once I leave, these friends that I made will be gone. They’ll go back to their lives and I’ll go back to mine, and it will be like this whole thing never happened.  

“I’m really going to miss you guys,” I finally choke out, and we all pull away from each other.  

“Keep in touch, Christi,” Ariana says as she reaches out to give my hand a squeeze. “We’re really going to miss you too.”  

I smile weakly, and it seems to break my heart even more when I look around at their faces. They really do look sad. They’re just as upset as I am that this has to happen. I don’t even doubt that for a second. Coming into this, I had thoughts that maybe I would be a burden to them or just an annoying replacement that isn’t up to the task. But now that I’m leaving, I know that’s not true. They care about me just as much as I care about them, and they’re just as devastated to watch me leave.  

I finally come to my senses again and step forward again to give everyone an individual hug. I try my best to memorize each and every one of them because the last thing I want to do is forget this. Forget this summer, forget them, forget everything I did. I don’t want to leave, but I know I have no other choice. It’s for the best. 

Finally, after my drawn-out goodbyes, I step away for the last time. I take my flowers from Kalene, mutter one last farewell, then turn around.  

“Wait.” Someone grabs my arm, and when I turn around again, I see that it’s Gabriel. His hand lamely falls from my arm as we stare at each other, and he looks like he wants to say something. I just watch him, but finally, his face changes. “We won’t forget you.” Everyone behind him nods and smiles tightly in agreement, and a corner of my mouth turns up.  

“Good.”  

Afraid that if I look at them one more time I won’t be able to leave, I force myself to turn around and walk away. Away from this thing that I created for myself, away from some of my best friends, away from what I truly love more than anything. Coming into this, I thought I would be walking away with something. Something positive, something that was supposed to make me feel better about my recovery and about myself. And maybe I did.

Maybe there are things I gained. But right now, it feels like I’m walking away with nothing. The days I spent at this school made me feel like I was a part of something. I really felt like I belonged somewhere, like I had something I knew I was good at. But the truth is, I’m just not meant for this. I couldn’t go to this school even if I wanted to because I can’t be like anyone them. I’m still Christi, and they’re still the Majors.  

I wipe the tears falling down my face as I round the corner out of the dressing room hallway. I’m just as broken as before, left with nothing. Only something too far out of my reach that is going to taunt me forever: this dream that’s been planted in my mind from the start of the summer. The hope that I could be normal and be a part of something like this. But that’s just not the life I live in. As much as I didn’t want it to be true, I’m just as in the dark as I was before. I want to be angry at myself, angry that I opened myself up to this sadness and broken heartedness from people leaving me all the time, but I’m not angry. I’m glad I got to do it. I’m just sad that I have to leave it all behind.  

The entrance is now completely empty and quiet. I slow down and stop my walking when I reach the middle of the room. A sigh escapes me as I glance around at the scene. I remember the first day I walked in here for Kalene’s end of year concert, the first day I came here and saw Gabriel sitting on a couch while he waited for me so we could go upstairs, then walking into this room for the party. It all seems so far away right now. Slowly but surely, I start to back up, wanting to look at this room for as long as I can. The next time I’ll be here, it’ll probably be for Kalene’s end of year concert next year. The door pushes open against my back, and I take one last glance at it all before finally turning around.  

I let out a breath of air as I walk towards the parking lot in the cool night air. It’s late so everyone else is gone, and it’s just me walking alone. I guess it really is time to close this small chapter down. The summer that will feel like a dream by the time I wake up tomorrow. It will take some time, but I’m sure I’ll forget it. Like this whole thing never happened. Now I have to focus on real life, on what is actually going to get me somewhere. Maybe I’ll actually start thinking about collages, about what I want to do for a job. I know earlier I was saying how I got nothing out of this except the sadness, but now I’m thinking that’s entirely true. I guess I showed myself that I’m capable of a lot more than I thought I was, not just with singing. I can do anything as long as I put my mind to. I can push through the worry and depression and anxiety to do something. That’s really going to help me in the real world. This school taught me a lot about myself. I have to keep the lessons and leave the rest behind.  

“Christi!” I jump slightly at the sudden noise and whip around. Professor Darious walks hurriedly towards me. I smile weakly as he comes to stand in front of me. “You didn’t plan to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”  

“Oh,” I choke awkwardly. “I’m so sorry, I just—”  

“It’s quite alright,” he chuckles as he cuts me off. “I just wanted to thank you again for helping everyone this summer. You truly did save us, and you brought a lot to our school.”  

“Thank you,” I stumble. “That really means a lot.”  

He smiles again. “You really impressed everyone these past few months. You truly are incredibly talented,” he continues as I stand there, unsure how to take the sudden mass of compliments. “I was worried about bringing someone into the production so suddenly. The students can take a little . . . getting used to at times and working with this school is no easy task. You certainly rose to the occasion.”  

I just stand there and smile stupidly while he continues.  

“I enjoyed watching your interactions with the Majors. They loved you, and you really did fit in with them, even more than some previous students. They’re really going to miss you. Everyone is.”  

I still have no idea what to say, and Professor Darious chuckles lightly.  

“I guess what I’m trying to say is no one is really ready to say goodbye to you yet,” he says gently. “The Majors brought this up to me a few weeks ago, and I talked with Ricky about it. We both agreed with the Majors.” Still completely oblivious as to what he’s talking about, I just stare there and stare like an idiot. “A few moments ago, just a second before I was going to come find you, Gabriel came into my office,” he continues. “He did not seem very pleased that you were leaving. He requested, for the fifth time may I add, that you be his new partner.”  

My mouth suddenly drops. Wait, what? Everything inside me freezes and my mouth goes completely dry as he reaches inside his jacket pocket and extends a crisp, white envelope to me. Oh my God. There’s no way this is happening.  

“Everyone here would be honored if you joined us as our new number one Major.”  

I nearly faint right then and there. His words run through my head in a foggy blur, but I hear them loud and clear. I don’t believe it. There’s no way that just happened. I was just offered a spot at this school, the school that I was dreading having to leave.  

“I—I—” I gasp, unable to form full sentences. 

Professor Darious just chuckles and smiles softly. “You don’t have to answer right now. Take some time to think about it and give an answer back by Monday. I hope we meet again, Christi Rodgers. Ta-ta.”  

He gives me a cheerful wave, then turns back around to walk back up to the school, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the parking lot with my eyes wide and the white envelope clutched in my hands.  

What just happened?  

I have no idea how long I stand in the parking lot, simply staring at the envelope in my hands. But I can’t seem to get any part of me to move. No part of my brain seems to be processing what just happened, yet I still hear his question loud and clear. I just don’t believe it. People told me this was coming. A few mentioned that they would offer me a spot, but I just didn’t believe it. Maybe because I can’t see myself going to this school. After looking at and meeting all of the perfect people and their perfect voices, I couldn’t see myself fitting in among them. It made sense during the summer, when I was here for only three months, technically not even a part of this school, away from spotlight and fans and whatever else. But a Major? They rehearse and tour and sign autographs and do interviews. I don’t have experience with any of those things. But they want me here? Among the Majors, a part of that world? They think I would fit in here?  

Finally, after probably a full ten minutes, I force myself to turn around and walk back to my car. My legs feel heavy and my heart is still beating furiously when I start the car and set the envelope in the passenger seat beside me. For a moment, I just stare at it. That envelope is mine. It’s my chance to join the Academy. Something I never thought I would see in my entire life. It’s real, and it’s right there.  

It’s a miracle I don’t crash. My eyes keep jumping over to the envelope next to me, scanning it every once in a while to make sure it’s still there and that all just happened. And every time I glance over at it, it’s still waiting in the seat next to me. That whole scene still happened. I have no idea what to do. Guard it with my life, jump up and down and squeal with joy, just throw it away and pretend like that never happened. There’re too many options suddenly. I don’t know which one to choose.  

When I get home, I blindly walk inside with my bag, flowers from the Majors, and envelope. My father is still waiting up for me, but he looks half asleep from where he sits in an armchair with a crossword in hand.  

“You made it,” he grins tiredly as he comes to stand in front of me. “You look exhausted. Why don’t we get you up to bed? You’ve had a long day.”  

When I don’t move, he furrows his eyebrows and watches me curiously. I can tell he definitely knows something is off, but I have no idea where to start. So instead of saying something, I just hold up my envelope. My offer to join the Academy. He looks at for a moment.  

“What’s this?” he questions as he takes it from me and examines it. The Academy logo is on it as well as my name neatly printed in cursive. My father seems confused at first, but slowly, his face changes. “Wait a second, this looks like the letter Kalene got when she was accepted to the Academy.”  

“That’s what it is,” I tell him blankly. “My acceptance letter to the Academy.”  

His entire face lights up as his eyes shoot back up to me, and all of a sudden, he doesn’t look so tired anymore. “What?” he yells. “Christi, that’s incredible! They want you at their school?”  

“As the number one Major.”  

“What?” he cries again, and this time, he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. “That’s amazing, flower. Congratulations! This is an incredible opportunity for you.”  

“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” I say as I step back. “I mean, seriously? Me at that school?”  

“Yes, you at that school,” he laughs. “You would do incredible there. After watching you tonight, I can fully say you deserve that spot. You have great talent, flower.”  

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” I sigh exasperatedly, “but am I really? Am I good enough to go there? Am I even stable enough? Can I have all those people watching me?”  

“Listen to me, Christi,” my father says sternly. “This is a big decision to make. I know it is. But look how far you’ve come. You did a spectacular job at the play this summer with all the attention, and you’ve been happier than you have in years. I’ve seen it in you, flower. If this school is something you truly love, if it’s something that really makes you happy, then I think you should accept their offer. This is a chance you’re never going to get again. You’ve been waiting for a chance like this to make things better, and it’s finally here.”  

“But now that it is, I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “I don’t know what to do, Dad.”  

“Well, you don’t have to give an answer back right away, right?” he asks, and I nod. “Sleep on it. Take a few days to think about it. For now, let’s get you up to bed. You look exhausted.”  

I feel exhausted. My father takes me upstairs, kisses me on the forehead, then leaves me to my room. I smile the slightest bit when I spot the bunches of flowers my father put in vases and placed on my dresser. I take a moment to stare at the clutter of flowers. All of them are from the people I love, the people that supported me through thick and thin, through good days and bad days, all the way up to today and for the rest of my life. I look at those flowers from those people, then down at the flowers from the Majors that are still clutched in my arms. I stare at them for a moment, then wander over to my nightstand and put them in a new vase away from everything else. I want to be able to see these ones.  

A moment later, I crawl into bed and let out a sigh. I don’t want this day to be over, I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and have to make all these new decisions. But there’s no avoiding it, I guess. I can’t run away. I have to fight that instinct that everything is going to blow up in my face if I make the wrong decision. I just have to take time to think this whole thing through.  

Even through the dark, I can see the outline of the roses the Majors got me. I wonder what they would say if I showed up at their school one day, saying that I was the new Major. The image makes me smile. I know they would be thrilled. They probably have no idea that I was just offered a spot. Those flowers weren’t just something to thank me, they were to say goodbye. As I stare at them one last time before I close my eyes, I realize that none of us wanted it to end that way.  

The first thing my eyes land on the next morning are the roses resting in their vase and an envelope placed beside them. For a moment, I don’t think of anything. I just stare at them while my heartbeat returns to normal from the nightmare I had last night. A second later, I sit up and turn my head. My eyes land on the multiple vases of flowers in front of me, and it all suddenly comes back. Performing in the play last night. Saying goodbye to the Majors. Professor Darious’s offer for me to join the Academy as a number one Major. My head shoots sideways again and lands on the white envelope. All of that really did happen. I stare at my name neatly written in cursive on the front.  

Still wrapped in the covers of my bed, I reach on the end table beside me and grab the envelope. I take extreme care opening it, then unfold the letter placed inside. It’s a lot like the letter Kalene got when she was accepted to the Academy. It explains a lot of what the Majors do, what their schedule is like, the things they do when they’re not on tour and the things they do when they are, what’s expected, things like that. It looks like a lot. The interviews, the fan meet and greets, the extra opportunities they get for being at such a high position. I still can’t believe that I have a chance where I could possibly do all these things. But do I want to? Actually, it’s not so much a question if want. It’s can I. Can I actually hide the worst parts of me from the world? Can I handle all of this? My eyes drift down to where both Professor Darious and Ricky have their signatures signed at the bottom. Wow. I still can’t process this.  

I sigh, set the letter and envelope back on my nightstand, and reach for my phone to make sure the alarm won’t go off again. My eyes immediately widen. I must have about twenty missed calls, thirty new emails, and a thousand text messages. I gulp as I stare at the unfamiliar contacts. What is this? Why are there so many random people calling me? Suddenly too overwhelmed to look at that just yet, I click on the messages from my sister. I can practically hear her screaming through the phone.  

Check this out, little sister! her text reads. They LOVED you!  

I click on one of the many links she sent me and let out a small yelp of surprise. It’s an article, and it’s about me. I quickly skim through it, then look at the next one she sent. Each and every one is positive. They really did like me. Oh, God, they really liked me. I don’t believe it. Staring at these headlines, people’s opinions, they make me so relieved. Christi Rodgers Steals the Show. Who is the New Star Christi Rodgers? I was terrified that people would hate me. Terrified that I wouldn’t be up to their expectations of what someone at that school should be. But from the looks of this, I am.  

“No way,” I whisper to myself as I hold my phone to my chest for a moment.  

A minute later, I exit my text messages and take a look at all of my missed calls. I don’t recognize any of the numbers, but I click on one of them anyway to listen to the voicemail.  

The second the man’s voice rings through my phone, I know it’s someone professional. I have no idea who it is, but then the man introduces myself. His name is Garret France. And he works with Atlantic Records. When the words come out of his mouth, I drop my phone to my lap. No way. I seize my phone again and press it to my ear.  

“We would love it if you considered signing with our record label. Call me back if you’re interested. Thanks.”  

I pull my phone from my ear and listen to the next voicemail. Another record label. I listen to the next. A movie producer. There’s no way this is happening. I check the new emails, and it’s more of the same thing. Oh my God. I have no idea what to do. How did they even get my number?  

I sit in my bed for a good thirty minutes simply trying to listen to all of these messages, then another ten trying to think because I’m still unable to process what’s happening. I thought that after last night, my life would be back to normal. I thought it would be like the summer never happened. I would be upset about losing the fun I was having, but I would get over it eventually. The whole thing would be like a strange fever dream. But I guess I was wrong. Because here I am with an acceptance letter to Roanin Academy and calls from all these people asking me to do things with them. It’s the last thing I was expecting. Am I actually cut out for that world? These people seem to think so.  

When I finally come to my senses again, I get up, get dressed, and make my way downstairs. With my acceptance letter and phone in hand, I stagger into the kitchen to where my father sits at the island with his coffee and a crossword.  

“Morning, flower,” he smiles pleasantly as he glances at me from over his crossword. It relieves me a little to see that he hasn’t changed. 

“Dad,” I say as I glance down at my phone and letter in hand, “I don’t really know what to do right now.” He looks at me quizzically as I walk over to him. “I woke up this morning a hundred calls and texts. It’s all these important people asking me to join record labels and movies and whatever else.”  

“Really?” he asks happily. “That’s amazing, flower. Those sound like some great opportunities.”  

“But I don’t know what to do,” I sigh. “What do I choose? Do I even want to go into this . . . this perfect world?”  

“It’s a hard decision to make,” he admits. “Why don’t you call Dr. Charm to schedule an emergency appointment. She would love to help you sort everything out.”  

I nod as I sigh and take a seat on the barstool next to him. “In your honest opinion,” I say finally, “what do you think I should do? Am I really cut out for all this?”  

“It’s not about being perfect,” my father says gently. “That’s what you expect of yourself. It may be what that world expects of you too, but not everybody. Not the people and fans that really love you. You won’t find that in a lot of places out there. But in my true opinion, I think the Academy is the best fit for you, flower. You know your sister, you know the students, you loved it there, and being honest, that school does a great job at keeping you from that. You’ve seen it with Kalene. She’s never been in a situation where they’ve put her in any type of distress.”  

My sister and I are very different people. She doesn’t really take crap, and I sort of do. She doesn’t let those comments get to her. I do. We handle things differently. Just because she can take it doesn’t mean I can. But my father may be right. The Academy is a school after all, and I know for a fact that they rarely get in drama. But still, being in a situation where people are always watching me and looking for my deepest, darkest secrets is terrifying. I know the Academy can’t always protect me from that.  

“I think you will be happiest at the Academy,” my father continues. “You were the happiest when you were there this summer, and you had eyes on you then.”  

I don’t say anything, so he smiles gently and reaches over to give my hand a quick squeeze.  

“Talk to Dr. Charm about it. She’ll help you decide. Why don’t we go through some of these messages together? We can see if you would be interested in any of these things.”  

For the next hour or so, my father and I go through the dozens of texts, calls, and emails together. He recommends finding an agent of some sort if I want to consider any of these, but I tell him that I don’t want to think about that right now. It’s just another thing I have to consider. I still pay attention to the messages even though this is my second time hearing them. I may actually want to pursue something here, and if I choose to, I want to know what I’m getting myself into. Once we’ve cleared through everything, my father tells me to think about it. We can always schedule a meeting with one of these people to make sure this is what I want one hundred percent, and I want to run it all by Dr. Charm first.  

I’m tempted to call my sister as well to get her advice, but I know she’ll only influence my decision. This is something I need to decide on my own, not something I choose just because other people want me to. With that thought in mind, I don’t tell anyone else about my offers. I schedule my appointment with Dr. Charm for tomorrow afternoon and keep my thoughts to myself. It’s very hard, and I would love nothing more than to get all of this off my chest so I don’t have to carry it around with me. But I know what I’m doing is the right thing.  

When my meeting with Dr. Charm comes around the next day, she doesn’t seem at all surprised that I have all these offers. She actually seemed like she was expecting it. When I blurt it all out the second I step into her office, she simply sits there calm and completely unphased.  

“Well, people don’t tend to ignore talent,” she shrugs casually. “You are talented, Christi, and a lot of these people see that. You should be very proud of yourself.”  

I just sit there at a loss for words as she continues to scan over my acceptance letter to the Academy.  

“This looks like it would be great for you. If you’re worried about being in the spotlight too much, I think this would be the best option. It is a school after all. It won’t be like signing to a record label.”  

“But do I even want to go into music? Would I be better off in the real world with a more common career?” I ask, voicing the thought that’s been in the back of my mind since I got my acceptance letter. Even though being a celebrity seemed like a much more possible feat when I talked about it with my father yesterday morning, now that I’m thinking about it, I really don’t think I can do it.  

“What else do you have in mind?” she asks calmly. I open my mouth, close it, then open it again.  

“I don’t know.”  

“This is a very serious decision.”  

“I know,” I sigh. “Believe me, I know.”  

“What does your father have to say about this?” she asks. “Does Kalene know too?”  

“I haven’t told my sister anything,” I tell her. “My father is the only one who knows. He thinks I should join the Academy too, and I think that’s because he’s seen how happy and successful Kalene has been there. But my sister and I are different. I might not handle it like she does. She’s been in the spotlight for as long as I can remember. She’s just cut out for that kind of thing.”  

“But you forget, Christi,” Dr. Charm reminds me, “you’ve spent time at the Academy. You have a considerable amount of knowledge of what it’s like there. And you love it.”  

“I know,” I sigh. “I just . . . I’m scared.”  

“I know you are,” she says gently. “It’s ok to be scared.”  

I nod and swallow thickly. I know it’s ok to be scared; that’s what Dr. Charm has always told me. But I’ve been scared for almost my entire life. Maybe it’s time to stop. Stop looking at every possible bad thing that could happen and look at all the good things. Both my father and Dr. Charm are right. I was happiest when I was at the Academy surrounded by all those people and doing something that I actually love. Something I know that I’m good at. I’ve had doubts about a lot of things . . . but being there made me surer of myself. I became confident in what I was doing. I didn’t have to live in constant fear of failure. I’ve never had that before with anyone or anything.  

“I’m going to think about it some more,” I decide as I stand from the couch and grab my envelope. “Thanks for your help, Dr. Charm.”  

“Anytime,” she smiles as she stands too. “Keep me updated with what you choose.”  

I thank her one last time, then walk out of her office with my head spinning. There’s certainly a lot I have to think about, and I don’t know where to start. Too many decisions to make in such a short amount of time.  

I make my way through the building and out to my car. As soon as I’m back in the driver’s seat, I lean back and close my eyes, just like all those days I laid here after another night at Eric’s. I remember that feeling I got when I laid here in the dark. That feeling of loneliness and hopelessness, like nothing was ever going to be ok ever again.

I felt that way for a long time, while I was with Eric and after he died. I tried so hard to run from it, but somehow, it always loomed behind me like a shadow. The reminder that once upon a time, I wasn’t enough for someone. Actually, I felt that way up until I started writing music. That was the thing that brought hope into my day, even if it was only for a minute. It was something I was confident in. When I was at the Academy, I had that pretty much all day every day. And to add to that, I had a great group of friends. At that school, I was my happiest.  

All of a sudden, I turn on my car and pull out of a parking lot. Before I decide, there’s somewhere I need to go and something I need to do.  

Unlike the last time I was at the graveyard, it’s bright and sunny this afternoon. I wander among the graves and keep my eyes trained ahead of me. Last time I was here, I was practically shaking and crippling under my own guilt and sadness. But now, I feel a lot more at peace. I’m not scared of these names jumping out at me, and I don’t get the feeling that I shouldn’t be here. In a strange way, this time, I think I should be.  

When I spot Eric’s grave, I don’t stop dead in my tracks like I did last time. I just continue to walk calmly until I finally reach his smooth tombstone, then take a deep breath and kneel in front of him.  

I don’t say anything for a moment. I simply just sit there and stare at his name. Nothing fills me this time. Not sadness, not guilt, not confusion, not anger. Nothing. It’s just me and him. That doesn’t scare me. It just is. And for the first time ever, I’m not afraid of Eric. Not in life, not in death. Because sitting here in front of him with absolutely nothing on my mind just proves to me that he doesn’t control me anymore.  

“A lot has changed since the last time I was here,” I finally decide to say. “It’s crazy how quickly things sort of turned around, right?”  

I lean down on one of my knees and take another deep breath.  

“I’m sorry for what you went through last year,” I continue. “Or however long it was going on. I’m not excusing what you did to me. But I am sorry. This whole time, I’ve felt that I owed that sorry to you, but for the wrong reason. I’m not sorry that I wasn’t enough for you, because that’s not true. I’m sorry that you never had a life that you could be satisfied with.”  

I close my eyes for a moment and try to picture the first Eric I met. The one that was charming, the one that really did enjoy life. Even if he didn’t feel it then, that’s what I’m choosing to believe. I’m choosing to believe that once, he was happy. And the reason he suddenly wasn’t anymore is not my fault. This grave is not my fault.  

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” I whisper as my eyes open again, “is goodbye. You did some terrible things to me, and I hope that wherever you are, if you can hear me right now, I hope that you see that. And I hope you can move past it. Because I am. I’m moving past it.”  

I smile sadly at the grave. There will still be nights that I miss him. There will still be nights that I blame myself. Nights where I wish I could take everything back. But I think that those nights will be less now. Because now, I’m one step closer. One step closer to the life I deserve, the life that I was denied for so long. Not just by Eric, but by myself. But now, I’m ready to take that next step and start living again. The chapter ended, and a new one now begins. It’s the beginning of something I knew I had within me from the moment I was born.  

I smile the slightest bit and reach out to touch Eric’s name one last time. Just one more time. The stone is hot from the sun beating down on it, and I pray to God that he forgives me, and I can forgive him. It’s what Molly taught me the day she brought me back to the church. It’s what Taylor taught me that night at her house on Thanksgiving. It’s always easier to forgive. And now that I realize the power of forgiveness, everything seems so possible. Because now that I’ve forgiven, I can finally move on. Really and truly move on. It’s so much easier now. There will still continue to be days where I miss him, but every day, I’ll do my best to forgive him.  

My hand falls from Eric’s grave, and I finally stand. A brand-new breath of fresh air fills my lungs as I turn around and walk away. Away from the torture, away from the endless suffering. Away from the dark and towards the light. My light at the end of the tunnel, the decision I know I need to make. It’s always been there for me, just waiting for the chance to peak through the cracks. Now that the cracks are there, all I need to do is make a bigger hole.  

I smile to myself as I continue to walk away and grab the crisp, white envelope stuffed in my jacket pocket. I’m ready now. Finally, after years of wishing and hoping for a small sign, I understand what I have to do. It’s time to climb out. It’s time to let things begin.  

It’s time to let go.  

End of Book One