I felt a hand pull me into a gap between lockers the next morning. It was Jay and he was standing in front of me.

"Jay, what are you doing?" I asked. I thought our "relationship" was restricted to the ravine, and only the ravine. For him to talk to me at school was baffling.

"I needed to see you," Jay told me. "I couldn't…" he stopped himself. "I didn't want to wait until tonight," he said, clearing his throat.

"We can't exactly hook up in the janitor's closet," I told him.

"Dammit, is that all you think I want you for?" He asked, a little angry.

"Isn't it?" I asked, my tone almost matching his.

"You're tense," Jay had said, coming up behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders.

His touch had sent shivers up my spine. "I'm always tense."

"You'll snap in half if you don't relax." His hand trailed from my shoulder and down my arm, leaving a tingling sensation behind it.

He just looked at me. "Will you be at the Ravine tonight?"

"Maybe." I walked past him and then I stopped and turned back. "It's okay….if that is all you want, you know?"

His eyes narrowed.

"B—because, that's all I want, too," I lied. It's safer that way, I added silently.

He nodded. "Okay."

I walked away after that, not wanting him to see the pain in my eyes. I had wanted him to say that he wanted me for more than a sex-buddy, or hook-up partner. I wanted him to say that he would dump Alex, and be with me.

But to think such things, to even want them, is futile with Jay. It doesn't matter to him how other people feel, or what they think or say or do, At least that was normally the case. But I knew he cared about what I thought, otherwise he wouldn't have given me such a hard time about the 'Green Peace' or 'Cause Girl' thing. I knew he cared about me. But he loved Alex, and whatever she wouldn't give him I could. I had to accept that if I wanted to be with Jay, I would have to do it anyway I could.

The counselors' office was fairly big, with a room to the side that was probably used for counseling. Mom signed the necessary papers and went into the counseling room for a private meeting with the woman. The woman was tall, with curly red hair. She looked pretty cool, but I didn't feel like getting my head shrinked today.

"Your mother tells me you survived a school shooting?" The woman, Julie, asked once we were alone in her office.

I sat on the loveseat across from the rocking chair that Julie sat in. "Yes."

"Will you tell me about it?"

"Not today. I don't feel like talking about it today."

"Well then, tell me about yourself."

"My name is Emma Nelson, and I died in that school shooting, okay?" I said harshly.

"How did you die?"

"I'm not the person I used to be."

"Who did you used to be?"

"I used to care about things. About everything, the environment, animals, genetically modified foods, everything. And now I care about nothing."

"Not even yourself?" She asked,

"No, not even myself. And that's exactly why you can't help me."