***Trigger warning for: panic attacks, bullying, and, self-harming***

Ms. Muhammad had watched silently for weeks, simply studying the young girl as she began to withdraw from herself. True, when she was with the other girl, the young girl seemed to brighten but her whole face would shift once she realized it wasn't just her and her best friend in the large school. Ms. Muhammad would look on and notice the change occurring readily as she would hear the two talk about a boy during lunch. Every lunch day Ms. Muhammed would study the girl to see if her hypothesis was correct.

Riley wasn't her student.

Ms. Muhammad was a twelfth grade history and political science teacher, but she was the hall and lunch monitor for the younger grades and could see the change in the young girl occurring every day. And now the girl wasn't eating, just pushing food around the tray. Her once bright eyes were now struggling to keep open, the skin under them puffy and dark.

It was a Thursday when Ms. Muhammad realized she had had enough and couldn't sit idle anymore. She had spent 28 years as a teacher, 17 of those years as a teacher at Abigail Adams High. She had seen plenty of students go through what Riley was going through right now. She learned early on that she couldn't stay quiet and just hope that the parents would pick up on it, she had to push and become the advocate for her students.

She knocked on Mr. Matthews's classroom door and let herself in once he stated she could do so.

"Jennifer," Mr. Matthews stood up to greet Ms. Muhammad and pulled out a chair from the desk and pushed it closer to his. "What a pleasure to have you here."

"May I?" Ms. Muhammad gestured to the char.

Mr. Matthews smiled, "Please!" he sat across from her and clapped his hand enthusiastically, "What do I owe this pleasure?"

Ms. Muhammad cleared her throat, she considered Mr. Matthews a dear and hardworking colleague that she truly liked.

This was always the hard part.

Regardless of how sweet, nice, and/or friendly the parents or guardians were, this was always the hard part.

"Cory, I need to talk to you about something serious."

Mr. Matthews frowned, "This isn't about teacher of the year award now is it? Because I would lose…so lose." Mr. Matthew smiled unabashed. "I mean, I've seen you teach a history class, you're pretty amazing!" Mr. Matthew complimented her in awe.

Ms. Mohammad smiled, "Thank you, I admire your teaching skills as well, but unfortunately that's not why I'm here." She steadily put both hands on Mr. Matthews's desk, grounding herself and almost in an odd way encroaching on Mr. Matthew's personal space, a metaphorical foreshadowing to the conversation ahead of her.

She took a deep breath and began.

"Mr. Matthews, I am by no means a psychologist or social worker, but I have seen my share of students shout and scream silently for help. I've seen and lost too many students who because they didn't scream loudly physically and had the perfect mask to hide all they wanted to hide. I promised myself a long time ago that if I saw any of my students scream silently into their mask I would immediately tell their parents." Ms. Muhammad finished strongly, her eyes studying Mr. Matthews steadily.

Mr. Matthews nodded, "You..you think Riley has what? Depression?" He asked incredulously, his eyes shined with worry and confusion.

"Yes." Ms. Muhammad confirmed. "She's not herself anymore Cory. She's so withdrawn now, she barely eats lunch, her eyes are sunken in, and she looks so lost and tired, as if she's trying to lock herself in her mind."

"Jennifer, I appreciate your concern but you don't know-"

"With all due respect Cory, I know that I don't know Riley or your home life as well as I should in order to say this to you but I know what I'm talking about." She watched Mr. Matthews shake his head and frown, avoiding her gaze as she continued, "She's not herself, I've watched her for the past four months now, she's folding into herself now."

"Riley has been the same person she always has been. She's bubbly, she's happy!" Mr. Matthews argued.

Ms. Muhammad looked at him unflinchingly, "Is she? Or is she only smiling when she knows she is being looked at?"

That caused Mr. Matthews to pause for a moment. He pressed his lips together, his hands folded together.

"She's not the same, Cory. Maybe I'm not close enough for you to be sure, but I think you're too close to see it."

Mr. Matthews shook his head, "Actually, I-I'm not." He sighed, "I-I saw something in her but I just thought it was –"

"Teen angst?" Ms. Muhammad finished for him.

Mr. Matthews nodded, "I know I'm too close to the big picture to see it, but I've seen something in her change, I just didn't know what it could be." He took a deep breath in and looked up, "You think she has depression?"

Ms. Muhammad smiled sadly, she could see Cory and not Mr. Matthews now. He looked much younger all of sudden regardless what was written on his face was concern, his shoulders slumped over as he looked to her for advice.

"Yes, I do." She pulled out a business card from her cardigan pocket. "If you decide to get Riley some help, you can call her."

Mr. Matthews picked up blue and purple printed card. "Ms. Amira Habib, LP, LCSW, LMSW." Mr. Matthews let out a low whistle and smiled meekly, "No PhD?"

Ms. Muhammad smiled finally, "She's studying it now, clinical psychology- focusing on trauma and development in children and adolescents. She's a friend of mine and comes highly recommended in her field for young girls"

Mr. Matthews smiled politely as he waved the card, "Thank you." He said softly, not really trusting his voice.

Ms. Mohammad patted his hand gently, "Good luck." She whispered getting up to leave.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Riley could only look up as she counted backwards from 100, her hand on her heart as she tried to control her breathing. It was her second panic attack today, her fourth this week.

She was really getting sick of them.

She knew why she was having them. She was becoming a wreck at school. She had overheard three older girls talk down about her while she was in the bathroom. Calling her an "odd dyke" and a "cray cray loser", they wondered out loud why the cute blonde girl would hang out with a girl so weird and why the new cute freshman would eye her when there were actual sane girls around them. They continued to bash Riley as they made their way out of the bathroom, laughing as they did so. "Ten bucks she will either commit suicide or be in a looney bin." One of the girls laughed.

She had a panic attack in the bathroom.

It took exactly 8 minute to calm down from it and 3 minutes to put herself back together again in order to look proper.

Her friends looked at her worriedly when she sat back down with them, she gave them an off colored excuse that caused them to laugh and smile, appeasing their concerns of her.

(Farkle looked at her cautiously when she wasn't looking, Zay only frowned at Lucas and Maya for not seeing the flimsy excuse for what it was. Both boys didn't look at each other, but back down at their food.)

She didn't know what exactly triggered this panic attack, she just knew she was crying to get to sleep now. She had sneaked some Benadryl home and took them to sleep, but she still woke up crying. Wet spots on her pillow that she lied were wet spots from her wet hair to her mother.

This attack made her feel weak, she hated this feeling. It made her only cry more.

No one loved her.

No one genuinely loved her.

They just wanted a smiley face.

Any smiley face.

Someone to laugh at.

Someone to hold their pain and take out their frustration.

Her friends found her to be too much.

(They never apologized, she knew that. She just never wanted to bring it up.)

Her mother thought she was a spaz, Riley sometimes believed that her mother didn't have faith in her due to being more like her father than her mother.

She had only three friends that she was close to now.

Their names were depression, anxiety, and panic.

"You guys are horrible friends." Riley whispered out loud. "I wish you would leave me alone." She closed her eyes and felt her heart begin to finally slow to a pace she felt she could finally breathe again. Her chest was still tight but she could finally breathe.

She still felt itchy in her own skin after a while. She slowly got up and went to her bathroom, pulling out a small blade once the door was shut and locked.

In the morning she was showered and dressed, bouncing up and down as she made her way to the kitchen. It wasn't unusual to find her father and mother sitting at the table in the morning without Auggie. But it was just them this time, neither had a cup or plate in front of them, if Riley had to describe the atmosphere around her parents she would describe it as "thick with tension".

"What's wrong?" She asked steadily backing away from the table. She felt her mother's hands on her shoulders guiding her to sit down across from them as her father sat directly in front of her, his face looking worn and concerned.

(Had they heard her?)

(Had they seen her?)

(Did they see the tissues?)

"Riley," her father began slowly, "We think you should talk to someone."

Riley smiled (frowned in her mind), "Talk?" she repeated confused.

(Deep down, she was beginning to panic.)

"Riley," her mother said her name slowly, a tone Riley knew meant her mother was worried and serious. "We've noticed some things about you. Since you started high school you've been more withdrawn lately, we rarely see you outside your room unless it's to go to school, when you're with your friends you barely say a word, and you've barely eaten."

Riley smiled, a sour laugh came out from her to cover up her concern. "I have not!" she objected, "I'm fine, just trying to adjust to high school." She explained, half telling the truth.

Cory nodded, "We know, we're just worried that it's taking a toll on you." He explained. He tried to hold her hand but Riley took her hands off the table quickly, watching her father sigh as she glared at the two as if they betrayed her. "We're not doing this to punish you Riley, we just want you to talk to a professional."

"Why? Because you think I'm crazy?" she asked, "I'm not crazy, I'm not weird or strange or going to kill myself!" she shouted, She rolled up her sleeves, "See," she showed them her wrist. "I'm fine! I don't need to talk to a professional. I'm just tired."

Topanga bit her lower lip as she looked at her husband for support, "You've been tired a lot, Riley." Cory pointed out. He glanced at her wrist as she continued to glare at them. "You look like you hardly sleep anymore, you're not the old Riley anymore. I don't think you've been her for a while now."

Riley frowned, "Yes I am!" she could feel her eyes begin to sting with tears. She tried to smile, she was going to smile through this, this had to be a joke. "I'm still the same Riley."

"I don't think you believe that anymore." Topanga told her.

"I do!" Riley shouted at her.

"Riley!" Cory warned, his voice not actually raising but becoming firmer. "We're worried about you. We want to you talk to-"

Riley cut him off, not wanting to hear any of it. "I'm not crazy! I'm not going to take pills to make me a different person!" that was her fear. That her parents would want her to take pills if they noticed she wasn't smiling anymore.

Cory looked perplexed, he went around and hugged Riley, "That's not what we want for you Riley." He spoke gently to her as she began to relax in his arms.

She felt oddly comforted by her father like this.

(Her mother was still across from her.)

"We don't want you to change or are begging you to change, we don't want to label you either. We just want you to talk to someone." Cory pulled them apart, but kept his hands cupped around his daughter's face. "We're always here for you Riley, but maybe we're a little too close for you to talk to us in a way that you feel safe?"

Riley closed her eyes and nodded.

She loved her father, but sometimes she knew that he and her mother couldn't understand what she was thinking.

Topanga spoke again, "We made you an appointment with a therapist after school for Monday."

Cory frowned at his wife, "I'll go with you, okay?" he told Riley.

Riley nodded again.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The weekend blurred quickly, Riley barely remembered any of it. She spent most of it in bed, she was sure of that. That's what she mostly did on weekends: spent her hours in her room with her windows locked and drawn together. Her phone would hardly buzz, text messages from Maya and Farkle, a few from Lucas and Smackle. And oddly enough, a phone call from Zay.

She would make excuses, tell them that she was with her family, getting one on one time with her father, mother (ha!), or brother.

Riley had another panic attack at school, she made more excuses to her friends, she laughed, she smiled, and she floated along without really touching anything.

Now she found herself in an airy white painted waiting room, sitting on an uncomfortable black folding chair, her father right beside her. The building was seven blocks away from her school, but she recognized none of the other clients sitting in the waiting room. There were no windows in the waiting room, just white halogen lights and a low hum of the vending machines outside the room. Riley looked down the other hall and saw five locked doors. A man walked out of second door on the left, he was young looking, maybe mid 30s at most, dark copper skin with black hair tied in a loose bun. His outfit was simple, khakis and a light blue button down. A young woman around Riley's age followed him out, he waved goodbye to the girl and another older woman who looked to be the girl's mother. The man had an easy smile and directed it at Riley when he noticed her, "Hi." He pointed at her, "Who are you here to see?"

Before Riley or Cory could answer, the receptionist, an older woman with honey brown hair pulled into a severe bun, answered for them, "She's here to see Amira." She answered in a clipped tone.

The man's eyes brighten, "Hey! She's good, you're going to love her." The man winked at her before calling out his next client.

The farthest door opened now revealing a woman with dark skin and curly hair dyed gray. She looked out of placed in the plain waiting room in her red skinny jeans and plain black t-shirt.

The woman looked at the receptionist who pointed at Riley.

"Ms. Matthews?"

Riley nodded, feigning a smile as Amira smiled back and waved to her to follow.

Riley wasn't sure what she was expecting the room to look like, after the waiting room she assumed the rest of the rooms where as lifeless. But Amira's office was oddly…lively.

It was a large room painted Moroccan blue, with a large brown leather sofa pushed back against the wall with a single chair next to it. There was a bunch of toys on one corner of the room, including a television with video games. On the shelf next to her were books about everything to do with psychology, social work, medication, evidence based treatments, youth, culture, and etc. Oddly enough the room had windows that were open and flowers that were sitting on the table in front of the sofa and on the desk on the other side of the room. Riley breathed in the scent of oranges and vanilla, she noticed an array of candles on the shelf.

"It smells nice here." She commented as she walked over to the book shelf and found a row of books on human trafficking, girlhood, and sexuality.

"Please, have a seat." Amira smiled, sitting down on the single chair as Riley took a spot on the sofa. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea?"

Riley nodded, "Tea?"

Amira nodded and produced a small cup of hot tea in a matter of a few minutes. Riley saw that behind the desk was a buffet table holding a small fridge and water dispenser.

She took a sip of the tea, it tasted like mint and honey.

Amira smiled apolitically, "Sorry, Moroccan mint is all I have left. I think I gave away the last of my chai and cardamom cinnamon tea today." She sat back down and grabbed a small white journal.

"So Riley, tell me about yourself."

Riley smiled demurely, "I thought I did that with all those papers I signed."

Amira shrugged, "They tell me briefly about your medical and personal history, but they sure don't explain you as a whole. I would like to hear from you who you are." She explained gently.

Riley started out with. "I don't belong here."

Amira looked at, silently asking her to continue.

"My parents think I need to talk to you."

Amira nodded, "You don't?"

Riley shook her head, "No, I'm fine." She smiled, "I have my friends when I need to talk. I've just been tired is all."

"Tired?"

Riley shrugged, "I haven't been sleeping through is all. Otherwise I don't need to be here."

"That's fine with me." Amira said, surprising Riley.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean at least you know what you're doing. You have your friends to talk to, everyone needs to have a support system. And you have one!" Amira smiled. "It's actually really great thing to have, most people feel that their support team isn't really there after a while."

Riley paused, "Yeah?"

Amira nodded, "Yeah, I mean how many times a person can hear the same sob story again and again? When you feel that you're drowning you begin to feel that no one can save you and that you're just drowning your friends with your problems. I think most of my clients believe that their friends had enough of them, like they were too much for them to really understand them so they hold everything in and just fake being happy because it makes their friends happy." Amira explained, she looked at Riley, "At least your friends aren't like that, right?"

Riley licked her lips, "Not all the time." She conceded, mumbling the confession under her breath.

Amira frowned, "What are they like most of the time?"

Riley blinked away tears, "They, they're just there, I guess? I mean they care, but they have their own things too. So it's not like they have time for me when I become too much for them."

Amira's frowned deepened, "What does 'too much' mean for you?"

Riley blinked, pushed back her hair as she mulled over an answer. "I guess too much me? I can be annoying and bubbly at times, not on purpose, I just like being happy." She smiled tearfully, "I want to be happy."

Amira nodded, she pushed a box of tissues closer to Riley, "Are you happy?"

Riley smiled forcefully, "Yes." She coughed before breaking down in tears. Her mask was breaking faster than she could handle. She started to feel itchy again.

"Really?"

Riley blew her nose into the tissue and lowered her gaze, "No. I haven't been happy in a long time." She looked up, this time her smile felt worn and made her face feel stretched. "But I want to be happy." She repeated. "I just don't know how anymore." She began to cry again.

Amira nodded, her voice was gentle and hypnotic. "That's why we're here to talk Riley, so you can learn how to be happy again, okay?"

Riley took a deep breath, the itchy feeling wasn't succumbing but she ignored it.

"Okay."