"Evan Hansen, please come to the principal's office."

Shit.

I think to myself and cringe as I prepare myself to stand and leave, except that's when the alien invaders (again, my therapists words) begin to creep in and suddenly my mind is going a million miles an hour and I'mnotgracefulandsoIknowwhenitrytostandupimgoingtotriptryingtostandupoutofthisstupidchairwhythehelldotheymakethesethingssoclosetogether

and while all these aliens are apparently having a track meet through my thought process, everyone has started staring at me because

that was your name Evan why aren't you moving? And now I've got to stand up because everyone expects me to move because

your name was called, Evan

And I'm pretty sure that was my teacher talking so I try to stand up, but the fucking chair-desk-whatever is so small that I bang my calf area hard enough to send me on a one-way-trip to the floor, and

Well youcantstayontheflooridiotgetupwellmatbeicanjuststaydownhereprobablynobodysawanywaysaremypalmssweaty?notheirnotareyousure?youbettercheckohmygodtheyresosweatyhowareyougonnagetupwithsweatypalms?

And the answer to that comes just before the tears in my eyes have grown the balls to fall down my face, in the form of Jared, who stands up and sighs dramatically as I'm having a mind-seizure on the floor

"God, this is painful."

He walks over to me, taking a cell phone away from Natalie, who was trying to win an Oscar, and giving her a giving her a reproachful look similar to that of a parent scolding a naughty child.

He hauls me up by my armpits and throws all my books into my bag before shoving me out the door.

I take some deep breaths and peek back, only to realize that I've left my cell phone at my desk, and everyone know it's mine because the thing is ancient so now I've got to go back in there and grab it and the tears start welling up and again and i can't breatheand then Jared casually swipes the phone off the desk and pockets it, giving me a look before sitting back down again.

When I get to the office, the principal isn't in there, so maybe I was too slow walking and he got tired of waiting and left, except he's the principal so why would he leave? Especially if I was in trouble, which means I'm probably not in trouble and they called a different Evan Hansen even though I don't think there is one but I'm still debating this when a familiar-looking woman walks out and waves me in.

I have no idea why she wants me, but I know we've met before, I just can't think when.

She sits me down on the guilt-couch (a name coined by the students because of the notorious guilt-trips of our principal) and takes a seat across from me next to a man I assume is her husband.

"Hello, Evan. My name is Cynthia Murphy, this is my husband, Larry.

Murphy. Finally it clicks.

I met them about a week ago when I was called into a meeting with Connor after he shoved me onto the floor for looking at him funny.

I feel like I should remember that clearly because it was less than six days ago, but I guess it slipped my mind.

The thing about Connor is, while he's got an insane temper and a tendency to do batshit crazy stuff, he's the kind of guy you forget about as soon as you turn away from him.

Like if I thought about it, I could remember the time in second grade that he tried to set the classroom on fire because he didn't get a turn to hold our class hamster, or the time in eighth grade that he stole fifteen cans of chili from the cafeteria and dumped it down the toilet in the teachers' lounge to make a point about climate change or some shit, but for the most part I stayed out of his way and didn't think about him.

I guess someone reported the incident last week because I definitely didn't, but since we already had that meeting I assume this is about what happened like two days later in the computer room.

Which I also forgot about.

No one else was there though, so I guess his parents found the letter and that's what this is about.

I realize at that point that I've been staring for way too long and attempt to make up for the that with literal word-vomit.

"Yes, Connor's parents right? If this is about the... about the uh, about the letter don't even worry about it it's not like it's not even important I don't even need it back I can just - I can just write a new one or something."

I don't think they hear that, because it occurs to me that Mrs. Murphy is crying into a handkerchief while her husband just looks uncomfortable.

"It's really not even, not even that bad like I forgive C-Connor I'm sure he didn't mean to push me like it was totally, totally my fault anyways."

Mrs. Murphy pauses and looks up at me through tears eyes.

"Oh my god. You don't know, do you?"

She asks, sniffling.

And then whatdidhedowiththeletterdidhepublishitsomewhere?tradeitfordrugs?stupidyoushittywritingisntworthanythingwhatisbadenoughthatshescrying?

I um, I don't understand?"

I manage to get out, shifting uncomfortably.

I notice a sharp pain in my palm and realize that it's bleeding in nail-shaped cuts, and then I notice my fingernails have my skin under them and I almost throw up because

I don't do blood

So I shove my hand under my leg and try to focus on Mrs. Murphy, who is crying again.

Whatdidisay?

It occurs to me that Connor isn't with them.

Why isn't he with them?

I try remember when the last time I saw him was, but it must have been that day in the computer lab, but that was on Friday I think and I'm at least ninety-percent sure that it's Tuesday and I can't remember seeing him at all this week.

I'm almost sure Alana beck mentioned that fact to me but I usually tune out what she says except that I think she mentioned his sister Zoey, who, by-the-way, I'm in love with, which is probably why I was listening in the first place and now that I'm really remembering I don't thing I've seen Zoey either, and why would they both be out of school?

And then my stomach starts turning knots and I'm worried that something happened, which is comfirmed in Mrs. Murphy's sobs, as

Mr. Murphy pats his wife's leg and takes a deep breath.

"It's Connor. He took his life over the weekend."

My stomach drops.

I didn't have anything to do with that right?

I don't think the contents of the letter were enough to drive someone to suicide, but I guess I'm not Connor so I'll never know.

Mrs. Murphy takes a small folded piece of paper out of her purse and hands it to me.

I unfold and skim through it.

DearEvanHansen,today'snotgonnabeagoodday...

this is my letter.

Like my actual, i-wrote-this-garbage letter.

I look up at the Murphy's, confused.

"It's his letter."

Mr. Murphy explains, like that clears things up.

It doesn't, but I nod along anyways.

"His suicide note."

Mrs. Murphy elaborates,

Which actually does clear things up.

So Connor goes home with the letter and kills himself, they find him with the letter and assume he wrote it.

That's fair.

But it also means that they think he wrote a letter to me, and that opens up a can of worms in my head that are taking too long to run through.

I open my mouth to explain, but the dread of that short-circuits my brain and I stutter, leaving room for Mrs. Murphy to say

"You were friends, right? I mean that's what this letter says. Clearly he wanted you to have it."

I can't speak.

I shake my head, opening my mouth to speak but what comes out sounds more like a broken cassette tape than a person, but eventually I manage to get a few words out.

"No, this isn't, it isn't his he-he didn't write it."

I'm still shaking my head as Mrs. Murphy gently takes the letter from my hand.

"But It says right here 'Dear Evan Hansen' that's you right? 'Your dearest friend' it's says right here!"

She's sobbing again and I'm still shaking my head and broken-cassette-taping when her husband grabs her shoulder gently and softly says something to her.

"No! They were friends, it says right here!"

I have to get out.

My throat is closing up and the tears are back and also I'm pretty sure my palms are sweating why do they always do that? And suddenly I'm standing up and I'm trying to apologize while making my way out of the room and the Mrs. Murphy yells for me to wait and

she's an adult so I have to turn around and she not really crying anymore which tells me that it took a lot longer for me to walk this far than I thought. Also my calves hurt, which tells me that I tripped over several things while making my grand escape.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know Connor had any friends."

She looks at me hesitantly, as if waiting for me to turn and run.

When I don't, she continues.

"You were friends, right?"

I can't speak again.

All of this woman's hope is pinned on Connor and I's friendship.

I don't have to tell her any details, right?

And I think Connor maybe hated me less than some people, so in a way we kind of were maybe?

I can't say no, so I kind of nod my head and look at the floor.

Mrs. Murphy gestured to the guilt-couch, and I slowly sink back down onto it, still looking at the floor.

I bring myself to meet their eyes and nearly scream when I see Connor standing behind them, mouth open in disgust.

"Dude, what the fuck,"