Dear Evan Hansen, I type. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I rack my brain, searching for something, anything, that could possibly describe the day I had. Turns out this wasn't an amazing day after all. This isn't gonna be an amazing week or an amazing year, cause why would it be? I think back to this morning, Connor Murphy pushing me to the ground and his little sister…his sister coming to save me. Zoe. Oh, I know, because there's Zoe. All my hope is pinned on Zoe who I don't even know and who doesn't know me but you know maybe if I could just talk to her then maybe…I pause. Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean, face it, would anyone even notice if I just…disappeared tomorrow? My mother's face flashes into my head and I consider pressing backspace and erasing all of it but instead I just nod and type Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend, me. I lean back in my chair and look around at the almost empty library – the only other person here is facing away from me with their hood up, so I'm unsure as to who it is. Not like I would say hey if I recognised them. Not like I had anybody to recognise.

I guide the mouse to the print button and listen to the quiet chugging of the printer a few metres away from me as I close the word document, hitting "Don't Save" and logging out of the library computer. I push away from the desk and stand up, but as I do there's a loud crash behind me. I turn and see Ms Potter, the librarian, on her knees picking up a pile of books that had fallen to the floor. I hurry over to her and pick up the last few with my good arm, putting them on the desk beside her. She gives me a forced smile and rushes away.

There's a movement in the corner of my eye and I turn to see the hooded figure picking up their bag and walking towards the exit. They turn their head for a spilt second and my heart drops as I see who is underneath the hood. Connor stops, noticing me, and heads in a different direction to the exit. My stuff is still over by the computers so I grab it and walk hurriedly out of the library, letting the door slam shut behind me. I pause. I don't know what for, I just pause. There's a wall to my left so I lean against it and just breathe for a while.

"So." I nearly jump out of my skin as the unexpected voice from behind me. I turn, and there he is. Connor Murphy. His hood is down now, and his backpack is slung over one shoulder. His jacket sleeves have been pushed up to the elbows and he's holding a single sheet of paper in his left hand, which is swinging loosely by his side. "Um, what happened to your arm?" He gestures towards my cast.

"Oh, I um - I fell out of a tree actually."

"Fell out of a tree."

"Yeah." I say, nodding.

"Well that is just the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard, oh my god."

I force a laugh. "I know."

He points at my arm again. "Um, no one's signed your cast."

"No, I know."

"Well I'll sign it." He takes a step towards me.

"Oh, y-you don't have to." My voice cracks.

"Do you, uh, have a Sharpie?"

I reach into my pocket for the chunky marker pen my mother gave me this morning and hold it out to him. Connor yanks my arm towards him.

"Ow."

He ignores me and starts writing a C that takes up the whole width of my arm, followed by an equally large O, two Ns, another O and finally an R. He gives me a quick smile and steps back.

"Oh great thanks."

Connor reaches up and scratches the back of his head. "Yeah well now we can both pretend that we have friends."

"Good point." I mumble, and I start to walk away.

"Is this yours?" I turn and see Connor holding up the sheet of paper. "I found it on the printer. Dear Evan Hansen. That's your name, right?"

Suddenly it becomes harder to breathe. Has Connor read my letter? No, I tell myself. If he'd read the letter he wouldn't have signed your cast.

"It's just a stupid paper that I had to write, it's - it's for an assignment."

I try to grab it from him but he pulls it away. I look at him, panicking, and he must notice the fear in my eyes because he holds it out and says, "Nah, I'm just messing with you. Here."

I take it from him and I fold it up, tucking it into the pocket of my jeans.

"So, Evan Hansen…what are you doing tonight?"