I manage to avoid talking to David partly by avoiding eye contact, and sometimes just by skipping classes that I have with him. I'm pissing Mr. Neck off by skipping Social Studies.

It's when we're in Science, during a lecture. He takes out his notebook and starts to write. Then he slides it over to me.

Can we talk about that night?

I slide it back to him. He bites his lip.

I just want to know what made you upset.

He adds that and slides it towards me again. I push it back.

David sighs softly, and begins to write again.

I'm sorry if I overstepped any boundaries that night. I won't do it again. And it's okay if you don't like me back the way I like you. Just tell me, okay?

I pick up a pencil. Then I write back.

I don't know how I feel.

Are you mad at me?

The bell rings, and I get out of there as fast as I can.


The cafeteria is too loud. I'm stuck sitting with those girls again. I stick to my corner of table at the end, and they ignore me. I forgot my lunch at home, so there's nothing to do. My mouth feels dry. They're talking about Andy again.

"Excuse me, pardon me."

The girl who was sitting next to me scoots over to make room for David. He sits down and offers her a small smile. "Thanks." Then he turns to me. "Hi, Mel."

I glance up at him, then back down at the table.

"I won't stay long if you don't want me to, but I brought you something to eat since it looks like you forgot." He slides a pop tart and a small water bottle over to me. The items sit between us.

Is he trying to win our trust with food? Again?

I don't know. It might be working.

I unwrap the pop tart and take a bite. He seems to relax a little. I look at him, waiting for him to tell me what he wants.

"So... can I stay? For today?"

I nod.

"Can we talk about it? I'm sorry if this is annoying, I just- I'm worried."

I sigh. My throat feels too tight to respond. He waits. I wait for him to go on. He doesn't.

What does he expect from us?

I don't know. Maybe he's giving us time to respond.

No one does that anymore. No one just waits.

He is. Right now.

"I don't know." My throat hurts more, but I've said something.

"It's okay not to know," David said. "And I should have asked. I'm sorry."

"I- liked it? I think." I didn't mean to say that. It kind of just... came out. But it's true. I liked it for a while.

David looks like he's about to say something else, but then I feel someone behind me and the air in my lungs freezes. There's a hand playing with my ponytail again. I can hear his voice but I don't know what he's saying and I smell him again and I feel leaves crumbly leaves everywhere under me I'm going to throw up-

I run away again. That's all I can do.


The last thing I ever expected was for someone to come check on me in the bathroom.

"Mel, are you okay in there?" It's Ivy. Her shoes are red, and her socks are yellow, which reminds me of her clowns that she's been drawing.

"Mel?"

I can't respond. I don't trust my voice. I try to wipe the tears away but they come back faster and faster and faster.

"David told me what happened. We need to know if you're okay."

...

"Was he bothering you?"

...

"You're in here, right?"

I take one last breath, then come out of the stall and over to the sink. I turn on the hot water, and it comes out freezing cold. I splash some on my face. I feel Ivy pull back my hair so it doesn't get wet. I don't look at myself in the mirror. I know I probably look like a mess. Raw lips, red eyes, empty.

"We're worried about you. Me and Nicole. You've been acting different. It's like you don't care about anything anymore."

...

"You do care? Don't you? I mean..."

She's having trouble finding words.

"Is something wrong? You've been so quiet."

There's a whirlwind sensation in my brain. I want to say it. I want to scream it. My throat aches. I want to cry, but something won't let me. I want to hide, I want to die.

"I called the police." Nothing else will come out. Because. Because...

"I know. I don't understand why you did it, but just know that I'm not mad anymore. I couldn't stay mad at you forever."

She forgives me? Do I want to be forgiven? Do I need to be forgiven? I don't know. I don't know.

"I was- I-"

"We could have just left if you told us you were uncomfortable." Ivy grabs my hands. I pull away.

"It hurt." I sound so stupid. Why won't sentences come out? Why can't I just explain it? Where do I start?

"What hurt, Mel? Did something happen?"

"We were under the trees. I didn't want him to. I tried to tell him." My voice gets softer and softer.

"Who?" Ivy's voice is softer now too.

Will she get mad at me? What if she doesn't believe it, what if she walks away, what if-

"Andy."

"He hurt you? Like..."

The word is right on the tips of our tongues, but we can't bring ourselves to say it. I meet her gaze, finally. She knows. Her eyes fill with tears, and I'm pulled into a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry Mel, I'm sorry..."

I needed this. I didn't know it, but I needed this. I hug her back, desperately hoping this won't end soon.

"And- and David-" I stammer. "When he- I don't know. I couldn't forget, and so I panicked." Now that the words started they won't stop. "He probably thinks I'm weird. But I just couldn't- I wanted to, but not like that. Not- not all the way."

"I understand. I think. As much as I can," Ivy pulls back a little to look at me. "Come on. We're going to the counselor."

"No. I can't."

"You need to. Do you know what could have happened?" Tears are flowing down her face now. Her makeup is smudged. "Mel, you could have been pregnant. He could have given you something."

That hadn't occurred to me. Dread squeezes my chest and it gets a little harder to breathe. I haven't felt anything different. I'm not pregnant. I can't be, or I'd know. I'd be showing. But what about... what were the symptoms? There were so many different... I remember vaguely, during middle school, that chapter in Health-

WIthout knowing it, I make a high pitched whine in the back of my throat.

"I'll be right here with you, let's go," Ivy takes my hand. I don't pull away this time.


Andy Evans is pulled out of class, held by the scruff of his neck like a puppy. Mr. Neck marches him down to the principal's office, and I'm sitting between Ivy and David on the bench in the counselor's office, feeling numb.

The claws that had been digging into my lungs for months now are gone, but the wounds are still bleeding.