I know it's Monday now because Alice makes me take a shower and says she's driving me to school. I stare at the carpet, my eyes not focusing, as she grabs a clean sweater from my closet and passes it to me.
"We don't have to stay here," she reminds me gently. "If it isn't fun anymore, let's just go."
I shake my head and pull crimson cable knit over it. I don't use my voice. I can feel it in my throat, spindle-thin with embarrassment I can't shake, and I don't want to hear it. I haven't said anything since Friday night. In the car. With him.
My aunt pretending to be my sister rolls blood-red eyes.
"Brush your hair." She rubs my arm on her way out. "And button your jeans."