Zach.

"You wrote it, didn't you? You were the one that wrote it?" I frowned, confused. "Excuse me?"

"I know it was you! You were the one who wrote that poem; I read it in sixth grade." He began to recite the poem that I had entered in a competition years ago. I regretted writing every word of it, even though I had won.

"A smile is a tool, used by you..." I heard him continue the poem, but read it in full in my head.

A smile is a tool

Used by you

To hide the pain

To hide what's been slain

To hide the fear you cower from

The depth you hide you hide behind

The life you live remains a lie

You count your words, your breaths, your lies

You count the ones you leave behind

You sit in shame, alone, in vain

Your eyes deceive you

Your mind deceives you

Your heart is too easily deceived.

I can only nod. He sighs. "I've been trying to find who wrote that poem for years. You have no idea... I'm sorry for bursting in like this." He left silently, and I was confused yet again.

It was all too quiet when he left. Perhaps it was only a figment of my imagination.

Dad didn't come home last night. So he was either still out drinking, passed out on a stranger's couch, or dead. Grant woke me up, ruffled my hair. "Morning Camster. Did you do anything fun last night?" I sat up, the covers of my bed clinging to my skin. I rubbed my eyes, and knew that I was just getting my hair even more messed up when I shook it out and ran a hand through it. "Zach came over last night... Did you know he's a YouTuber?" Grant smiled. "I do now. So what'd you guys do?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way. I shoved him, laughing. "We were just making videos! Ew, I swear, you have the dirtiest teenage mind ever." We laughed together, and I spotted subtle movement at the edges of my peripheral vision. Grant had pushed my curtains to the side earlier, allowing pink, orange, and yellow sunlight haze to leak in- and also happened to provide a perfect view into Zach's bedroom. He was watching Grant and I, and I gave him a short wave, grabbing a Sharpie and a piece of paper.

Ride with us to school today?

He nodded, and Grant watched our mute interaction. "You guys are already just as close as you and Bex. How did that happen?" I laughed and pushed him out of my room. "I'm gonna change," I said, and he chuckled. "Sure, kick your brother out of the room, but keep your window open to allow an almost stranger watch you change. Thanks, Cam. Love you too!" I shrieked and closed my curtains as I pulled on denim shorts and an Abercrombie shirt.

"Morning Cammie; Grant. Thanks for bringing Zach to school today," Principal Bailey yelled from her home, the door open as Zach left with a green backpack slung over his right shoulder as he closed the door. Principal Bailey managed to let out a few coughs, she wasn't coming to school today. She was sick. "Ditto what she said. I have bagels, if you want them," Zach offered to us, handing Grant and I blueberry bagels with strawberry cream cheese. "Hey Zach. Cam told me you were on YouTube. You know, she talks about you all the time-" I covered his mouth with my hand. "No, I don't. And you were the one who brought it up, anyways," I said, the statement coming out more defensive than I had planned it to be. And of course he had to use that against me.

"A little defensive there, eh, Gallagher Girl?" I wanted to slap the stupid cocky smirk off his face.

Grant and Zach engaged in a conversation; gossip. Grant started to warn him about the girls he should stay away from. "Mostly Tina and her clique. They're not mean, they can just get annoying sometimes. And Tina's not a good girl to date. She's hooked up with practically every sophomore, excluding Jonas, Preston, a few other guys, and I. And, well, now you." Grant was only ten months older than me. Zach laughed. "Okay. I'll be wary of her. More time spent with you then, right, Gallagher Girl?" he joked, turning around from the shotgun seat to look at me with my legs crossed and a perturbed look contently set on my face.

Mr. Solomon handed out laptops in science. "Today: Research. Tomorrow: Research. Thursday: Drafts, and Friday: Drafts. We'll work on finals next week, Monday through Wednesday, and then presentations on Thursday and Friday."

I logged into my account, and asked the great Google about climate change. And since Zach and I also had to write about what kids were doing about climate change, we found articles written about and by kids online.

Lunch came too quickly. And it turns out, all the girls staring at Zach on the first day of school were also staring at him and taking a double take, thinking he looked a bit too much like Zachary Goode, YouTuber. And now they had seen me on his video. And they had subscribed to me. Which had its pros and cons, but majority towards the pro side of the ever tipping scale.

"Hey, Zach Goode, right? I'm Tina." Zach glanced at Grant and I before smiling. "The one and only. Nice to meet you, Tina." She looked at me and back to him. "I saw your YouTube video. It was cool." She leaned closer to Zach. "I wouldn't mind making a video with you," she said, licking her lips before strutting away. All of us around the table were holding in laughs, we didn't exactly want to embarrass Tina. But when she walked away with that attitude and swinging her hips just a little, our efforts escaped from us and we burst out in long fits of laughter. I was gasping for air in between laughs. "Did... You... See... Her... Face?!" Macey laughed, and Preston smirked. "More importantly, what's that redness climbing up your cheeks, Zach?" We all turned to look at Zach, and sure enough, he was blushing. "Ooh, does little Zachary have a crush?" Grant joked, and we all laughed harder. Zach blushed even more. "Not on her," he murmured, not thinking we could hear. Maybe everyone else didn't hear, but I did. I wonder who he has a crush on...

The day went by too quickly, and I found myself alone in my room again, headphones, Pandora, and sketchpad in hand. I rarely saw Zach close his window anymore, so I could see him as he got in his room, tape in hand. He moved out of sight, and I naturally assumed he was taping something up onto his wall. He saw me watching, picked up his own note pad, and held up the note he had written yesterday.

Want to come over?

I smiled and soon found myself standing on his front porch. Principal Bailey opened the door, dressed in sweats, a purple fluffy nightgown, tissues in one hand and a TV remote in the other. "Hey Cammie," she said in a muffled voice. "Zach's upstairs. Hey, wait," she said, and I turned back towards her, one foot on the first step and the other one still on the ground. "Zach talks about you a lot..."

"Bailey!" Zach yelled from upstairs, presumably hearing her. She covered her mouth with her tissue filled hand. "Oops. Why don't you go up, wouldn't want you to catch my cold." I nodded and looked up, seeing Zach leaning over the railing, watching me. "Have you seen the stats?" He asked, and I jogged up the stairs, following him to his room. I hadn't really noticed the details of his room before. His walls were mostly bare, he had a wooden guitar in the far right corner, and he had actually taped up the picture I had drawn of him. He had a glass corner desk, and his HP Ultrabook was propped open to the video on his channel. His bed was made, pajamas folded neatly. "Look at this. 573,935 views already, the likes have gone up, and read the comments!" He looked so excited, and I laughed.

"omg how adorbsss"

"love ur channel, cammie"

"lol I subscribed cuz of cammie"

"are they dating?"

And a few comments from fellow YouTubers.

From what I had seen, none of the comments were mean or hurtful, just extremely nice. Zach ruffled my hair. "Looks like you're famous now, Gallagher Girl. You have over 30,000 subscribers." I gasped. "Really?! That's so cool!" I sat down on his quite comfy desk chair, and picked up a newly printed piece of paper. "What's this?" I asked, scanning the paper, then dropping it. "Why did you type up my poem?" I asked him, standing up abruptly. "It's been typed up for a while, I just printed it now-"

"I'm sorry; I have to go." I left him standing there, running down the stairs and out of his home. Grant opened the door to our house, and started to question me, but I pushed him away and kept running, locking the door to my bedroom behind me and closing the curtains so Zach wouldn't see me cry.

I said earlier that I had attempted suicide before. I listed the first three, and said substance abuse was my fifth. Because there was a fourth.

There are lots of different things you can do with rope. You can tie it to a tire, and a tree, make it into a tire swing. Or you can use rope to tie things together. But in my case, I didn't use it for either.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I wrapped the heavy rope slowly around the old hook in the ceiling. Then I twisted it around my neck. I had just started to pull on one end, but let go. I let go, and the tightness around my neck disappeared. The hook it was hanging from was decrepit, so it fell from the ceiling easily. The rope and the hook fell to the ground, with a soft thud and a clink. I let go. For a reason I haven't been able to place yet.

I wrote the poem after that attempt. I never wanted to hear it again, because it only reminded me of how weak I was.

I didn't want to be weak.

Weakness was not an option.

But acting was.

So I walked out of the room and stashed the rope and hook under my bed.

They're still there. I haven't thrown them away. I need a subtle reminder of what weakness looks like.

So I can avoid it.

So I can act.

So I can stay strong.

Thanks for reading; RFRF!