APRIL

The ride to Ann Arbor from St. Joe can't be more than a handful of hours, but it feels like we spent forever in that car.

I had tried to sleep, but I was too nervous. I kept picking at my nails and bouncing my knees, dressed in the new clothes that Catherine had taken me - and just me - shopping for. I was wearing a thigh-length floral skirt and a tank top. I'd never felt so comfortable and free. But I could barely concentrate on it from how crazy my mind was going.

I'd never been that far away from home. I couldn't stop thinking about what my family must be doing with me gone. Did they even care? Did they want me back? Were they doing anything to make that happen?

I didn't speak any of that out loud, and I still haven't. Now, everything of ours - mostly Jackson's - has been moved into the new apartment, and I'm sitting on the couch while Jackson and Catherine talk things over in the conjoined dining room. I know it's rude not to join the conversation, but I'm stuck in my head. I wouldn't be much use, anyway.

"I don't like the idea of you starting without a major," Catherine says.

I hear Jackson sigh and know what his expression looks like. He's exasperated - it's been a long day. He doesn't want to hear this again; she's brought it up frequently within the past couple of weeks.

"It's not a big deal to go in undecided," he insists. "It's actually smarter. I've told you this like, a thousand times. Would you rather me just pick something random and not be passionate about it? Wouldn't you rather me figure it out while I'm there, taking classes?"

She sighs. "U of M is known for its medicine program. Aren't you interested in being a doctor like your grandfather?"

"Not at fucking all," he says, and I knew he'd answer like that. They've been having this same argument for days. I can practically recite it myself.

"You're not going to squander this opportunity and choose something silly and meaningless," she says. "Like art history, or some other nonsense."

"Number one, that's fucking rude," he says. "Those people probably have a lot of talent. And number two, I don't even know the difference between Leonardo Da Vinci and DiCaprio, so you're safe on that front."

"You exhaust me, son," she says, sighing. "Am I going to be able to trust you to get all the things you need? All those books, and stay organized?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'll be fine. And plus, I got that little cutie over there to help me."

At my mention, I lift my head and set my chin on my knees bent up by my face. I manage a weak smile, but they both notice that my heart isn't quite into it.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Catherine asks. She walks over slowly and sits next to me on the couch, and I wrap my arms tighter around my legs. Suddenly, I'm overwhelmed with everything that's about to happen and all that already has.

I shrug one shoulder, halfhearted at best.

"Kitty," Jackson says, standing. Then, he looks at his mother. "She's probably tired. It's been a long ass day."

"I'm really nervous," I say, and my voice comes out weaker than I imagined it would.

"Oh, of course you are," Catherine says, rubbing my back. The action is comforting, and it soothes me a bit. I like having her near me. "Your first day of high school is tomorrow. Anyone would be nervous."

"Yeah," I mutter.

"Is there something specific you're worried about?" she prompts, facial expression soft and open.

I shrug again. There's almost too much to put into words. I don't even know what to be worried over; I have no idea where to start or what to expect. I'm being thrown headfirst into boiling water, or at least that's what it feels like.

"I know it's scary, baby," Jackson says, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "But you're gonna love it. You're gonna make tons of friends and everyone is gonna love you. You're smart as fuck. You're gonna own it. I know you probably don't believe me, but you'll see. The first step is the worst part."

"You would know," Catherine jeers, and Jackson rolls his eyes.

"I'm not good at making friends," I say, looking down and tracing the sharp bone on my ankle.

"Hey…" Jackson says. "Don't spew shit. Number one, you didn't really have great pickings before. All those church fucks. Now, you'll actually be around normal people. Normal people, who are gonna see how cool you are. You're gonna have like, tons of people asking to hang out with you all the time and I'll probably never see you."

I look up, eyes wide and fearful. I can't imagine not seeing him.

"Hey," he says, reaching to place a hand over my bare foot. "I'm just kidding."

"Oh," I say, then cast my eyes down again. "I don't know. I don't think people will like me. I'm not like… everyone else."

"But that's a good thing," Catherine says, voice soft and sure. "Yes, you might stick out. You might always stick out, no matter where you go. But nobody ever said that was wrong. That can work in your favor, and it will."

I sigh and try to let their words sink in. It's not easy, though, when I've never been built up like this before - I don't know how to take it. I don't know how to believe them.

"You'll see," Catherine says, then kisses my temple. "I'm gonna get going. But I'm not far away. If you need anything, call. I can be right over."

I look up and watch as she stands, and I almost don't want her to go. I love that Jackson and I have our own place now, our own life, but I think it'll feel like something is missing when she leaves. She's the first warm mother figure I've ever had, and I don't want her to go away. I want to sleep in her bed tonight and have her comfort me in a way my biological mother never did, as silly as that sounds. I know I'm too old, but it seems like that's all that would make me feel better.

I don't say any of this out loud, though. I would never want to make her feel obligated to take care of me; she has plenty on her plate already. Jackson is still here with me, and he always will be. I can count on him. And of course, he can count on me. He'll be starting a new phase of his life, too.

"I'll see you soon, sweetie," Catherine says, bending to kiss the top of my head. "You sure you'll be okay?"

I nod and offer her a smile. She cups my chin in one hand and strokes my skin, then takes it away to touch Jackson's chest.

"Take care of her," she instructs, firmly.

"Yeah, mom," he says.

"I mean it."

"Uh, yeah," he says. "I know. You don't need to tell me."

She gives him a kiss on the cheek and soon leaves, which puts just the two of us alone in an apartment that's very quiet and still.

"You wanna get ready for bed?" he asks, coming over to brush my hair out of my face. "I'm tired. I figure you must be exhausted."

"Yeah," I say, quietly.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod without much conviction. I know he sees through me, but he doesn't push. There's not much more to be said.

"Alright," he says. "Well, I'm gonna go wash my face and shit."

"Okay," I say. "I'll just be a second."

He turns around and walks down the hall, and I get up after he disappears into the bathroom. I go over to the dining room table where all my school supplies are laid out, and look through them compulsively to make sure everything is there. I have binders, folders, pencils, pens, highlighters, and everything in between. Upstairs I have too many new clothes to know what to do with; I couldn't be more prepared if I tried. Yet, I'm still standing here, making sure everything is in its place like something might have mysteriously disappeared since I put it here an hour ago. I count and recount my supplies, wondering if I'll really need all of them - at home, I used a pencil and sometimes a workbook. Most of the time, it was just plain paper.

I run one finger over the spines of the multicolored notebooks in my printed backpack, reminded of the little red one I tucked in the new purse Catherine bought me. I haven't written in it for ages - not since before Jackson and I first had sex. My thoughts have been too wild to even think about putting them on paper, but at the moment it seems like the only thing that'll feel right.

I grab it and sit on the little balcony we have overlooking the quiet, residential street. There aren't any chairs out here yet, so I sit on the ground with the notebook on my lap and a pencil in hand, staring up at the clear sky. It's not as clear as it was on the farm, but not bad. There are still stars.

I look down at the empty page after a while, drawing loopy circles and swirls - my typical doodles. I don't force my brain to come up with anything, I just try and let the words flow. They always come better that way.

Fly away little wings.

Trying to find light,

don't know what's right.

Not the person I always knew,

who went by everybody else's cue.

Left everything I had on the shelf,

is this the place I can be myself?

I don't realize how long I've been outside with my little poem until Jackson's voice comes through the screen door.

"Kitty cat?" he says. "You coming to bed? It's kinda late. School night, and everything."

"Yeah," I say, then unfold my legs and stand up with the notebook tucked close to my side.

"Were you writing?" he asks, as we walk down the hall to our bedroom. Our bedroom. That phrase so surreal to even think about. I nod, and he smiles a little. "That's good."

"Yeah, I wrote a poem," I say, then lay down with the notebook on the nightstand beside me. I went through my bedtime routine earlier while Catherine was still here, and she showed me how to use fancy face washes and creams to keep my skin clear. The days of scrubbing my skin with a harsh bar of soap are over. "Do you wanna hear it?"

"If you wanna share," he says. "You don't have to."

If it were any other night, I might rag on him for how he used to read this notebook without my permission. But I don't have the capacity for jokes at the moment.

Lying on my back, I open the tiny book and read aloud what I wrote. I know it's not that good, but I think I did an okay job voicing my thoughts. I've always been good at that through poetry, I think.

"That's beautiful, Shakespeare," he says, then turns to face me. He throws an arm over my belly and kisses the round of my bare shoulder, but I don't look at him. I keep staring at the page, going over the words I already have memorized.

"Who's that?" I ask, distracted.

"Who's…damn," he says, then his voice fades. "Well, shit. You'll learn about him. You got a lot… yeah. He's a famous playwright. Pretty cool. Kind of annoying."

"Oh."

"So, like me."

"You're not annoying," I say, quietly. I set the notebook down and feel his eyes on me, but I still don't look back.

"Tell yourself that about three months ago," he says.

I don't respond. I don't have anything to say; I have no energy to banter with him. I just want to go to sleep, but I don't want the morning to come. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Baby kitty," he says, rubbing circles on my stomach. He keeps his lips on my shoulder and his eyes on the side of my face, and I keep mine on the ceiling. He slips that hand beneath my shirt to touch my skin, then traces the waistband of my pajama shorts with his pinky finger. "Maybe we should do something to take your mind off it."

"No," I say, instantly. Sex isn't what I want right now. Knowing my current state of mind, I wouldn't get much out of it. It would be disjointed and disheartening over anything.

"Alright," he says, a little disappointed. "What can I do?"

"I don't know," I say. Suddenly, my eyes burn with the onset of tears. I'm terrified for tomorrow - terrified for a huge dose of the real world that I'm not sure I'm ready for. All of this is happening so fast. I've barely had a chance to breathe.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks. "That might help, at least a little."

I turn my head finally. "Of course," I say.

He smiles softly and cradles my jaw as he presses his lips to mine, and I close my eyes and let myself get lost in how gentle he is with me. I tell myself that, even if tomorrow goes badly, at least I have my boy to come home to. No one can take that away - even if it still feels like they can.

"You're so ready for this," he says, pulling away. He gives me one more quick, chaste kiss after he speaks, then traces the slope of my nose. "I promise."

"Okay," I whisper, and tell myself to try and believe him.

…

The next morning, I open my eyes from a very restless sleep before the alarm goes off. It's still dark outside and I don't feel refreshed at all - in fact, I feel more tired than I did when I laid down last night. I woke up every hour on the hour, frantic that I must be late. So now, all I feel is groggy and listless.

I curl on my side and wait until the alarm actually goes off. When it sounds, Jackson inhales sharply and swings an arm over my shoulder to press the phone screen until the noise stops.

"Mmm…" he groans, then buries his face in the back of my head, in my hair. It's tangled and greasy - I need a shower. A shower, which is such a new, luxurious and foreign concept. It's been nice to actually feel clean instead of scrubbing myself raw in an inch of tepid bath water. "Time t'get up."

I don't say anything. I keep my eyes open, but I'm faced away from him so he can't tell.

"Babe," he says, hand flat on my side. "Gotta get ready."

I take a deep breath and set my jaw. My stomach is jumping, my thoughts are deafening, and I don't want to move.

"I can't go," I say, very quietly.

"Huh?"

I tuck my arms closer to my chest and repeat the sentiment. "I'm not going," I say.

"Yeah…" he trails off. "Yeah, you are. I don't think it's really an option. Sorry."

He's obviously right. I need to go to school, but I can't picture anything worse. I can't see myself in a building full of other kids who all know each other, where I stick out because I'm the freaky farm girl who's been homeschooled all her life.

"What are you so scared of?" he asks, stroking the bare skin between my tank top and shorts.

I shrug and press my face further into the pillow. "I don't know," I say. "Everything. I'm not gonna know anyone. They're all gonna think I'm weird."

"Hey, hey," he says. "No, they won't. You're not weird. You're funny, headstrong, and beautiful, not to mention fuckin' smart. Don't get down on yourself."

I know he means what he says, but for some reason the words don't sink in. I can't make myself believe him. I feel like a baby bird who's been ripped away from the nest too soon - bare, pink and vulnerable. Like I have no chance of surviving on my own. Once I start falling, I won't fly. All I'll do is hit the ground and die on impact.

I try and get ready as best I can. I take a quick shower, brush out my hair so it can air-dry, and put on the outfit I chose painstakingly last night. It's simple - a pair of fitted jeans and a blousey-type shirt, but still more intricate than anything I used to wear for lessons on the farm.

It's strange, not getting up with the sun and going straight outside to take care of the animals. I wonder who got saddled with my duties now that I'm not there to do them. My stomach sinks when I realize it's probably Alice.

I haven't let my little sister cross my mind for the past couple weeks because when she does, I feel evil and powerless. I left her in the home that was cruel to us both. I didn't save her, I saved myself. What does that say about me?

I'm sitting at the table with a bowl of untouched cereal in front of me when I start to cry. I can't help it; the tears come on faster than I have control over, and I lose all the composure I had left. I let my shoulders curve forward and cover my face with my hands, body racking with sobs while Jackson hurries to follow the sound.

"Kitty," he says, sounding worried. I feel his hand in the middle of my back, rubbing slow circles as he tries to soothe me. "Baby, what's wrong?"

I try and catch my breath to tell him, but it doesn't come. It catches in my throat and makes me hiccup and stutter, and I struggle to make a sound that isn't a strangled wheeze.

"It's alright," he says, then kisses my hair. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn't really know how to handle me like this, but I can't stop. "Just try and breathe. I just wanna know what's wrong."

I take a huge inhale that strains my neck and makes my veins bulge. "I-" I begin, then lose it again before starting over. "I want my mom!" I sob. "It's stupid, I know it doesn't make sense… but I want… I want… I don't know!"

He looks at me with pain laced in his aquamarine eyes. He doesn't understand me. Truth be told, I don't understand myself, either.

"I'm gonna call my mom," he says. "Stay here. I'll be back."

He disappears for a bit while I devolve at the table, spiraling further and further into hysterics. I know I have no reason to feel alone, but I do. I've been stripped of the only support system I've ever known, no matter how unsupportive they actually were.

"She's on her way over," he says, when he comes back. "Do you wanna sit on the couch?"

I nod shakily, tears still streaming down my cheeks, and he leads me there. He doesn't try and stop my crying while we wait for Catherine, and I don't either. He stays at my side, only getting up when he needs to answer the door.

"Where is she?" I hear Catherine ask.

"Living room," he says. "She's on the couch just crying. I don't know how to help. She said she wants her mom."

"Oh, bless," Catherine says, then appears in the entryway.

We make eye contact and I start sobbing all over again, body trembling and convulsing as I let my emotions take over.

"Oh, honey," she says, hurrying over. She adjusts my body so my head rests on her thigh, and instantly starts petting my hair in a calm, repetitive rhythm. Instantly, I feel a little better. "What's going on, my sweet girl?"

I take a few deep breaths so I'm stable enough to talk. "I know it's stupid," I say, voice still wobbly. "But I just miss my family. I… I miss all that stuff I used to know. I don't know what's gonna happen to me at school. I'm just really scared."

I turn over so I can look at her, and she glances down to make eye contact. She caresses my forehead, then wipes the dampness on my cheeks away.

"I know you're scared, baby," she says. "But life is about being scared sometimes. You can't move forward without being terrified out of your wits. I know it feels cruel and you just wanna go back to what you know. But I promise, this is gonna lead you to a beautiful life. One that you deserve. So many doors will open for you, honey. And I want to help you open them. I would never leave you stranded. Jackson wouldn't, either. We're here for you, April. And as long as this new life is something you want, we'll continue to help you cultivate it."

"I do want it," I say, sniffling. "I don't know why I miss them so much. I don't want to go back."

"It's just what you're used to," she says. "And that's okay. It's to be expected. Honey, honestly I'd be more worried if you didn't have a meltdown this morning. You're human. You're allowed to have feelings and express them without being punished or shamed. Completely allowed. Encouraged, actually. I'm here to take care of you. I'll always be around when you need me. I mean that, okay?"

I nod, a few more tears leaking out from the corners of my eyes for different reasons now. I've never felt this kind of motherly love before. I don't know how to process it.

"I'll come inside the school with you," she says. "We both will. Help you find your locker, get acclimated. It'll be fun. Does that sound good?"

A little smile fights its way to my face, and Catherine kisses my forehead. I close my eyes as she does and say, "Yeah. It does."

…

Huron High School - that's where I'll be attending my senior year. The school is huge - a building bigger than I've ever seen. It's beautiful, but very intimidating.

I stare out the window, stunned. This doesn't look like a place for learning. I can't imagine how many students must fit inside - it must be thousands, at least.

I might throw up.

"You're fine," Catherine says, patting the hand that's resting on my thigh. "Might as well not waste any more time. Let's get you inside before you're late."

I nod and grab my backpack, walking between the two Averys as we make our way up the ostentatious front steps. Kids are milling about on them, leaning on the railings and talking amongst each other, taking pictures with their cell phones. I don't have one of those yet, but Catherine promised me one in the next few days.

"We'll stop at the main office first," she says. "On the phone, the secretary told me she'd have your schedule today since we missed orientation."

"Okay," I peep.

Jackson takes my hand subtly. I smile to myself, then look over at him. He smiles back and squeezes my fingers, letting me know without words that he's on my side and isn't going anywhere. I'm already dreading the moment they both have to leave.

I follow them into the main office and barely listen while Catherine talks to a woman behind the desk. When she comes back, she hands me a slip of paper and helps me read through it - for the first trimester, I have five classes with lunch in the middle. Each one lasts 72 minutes with 6 minutes of passing time to get to the next room. I have Psychology, Gym, English, Global Issues, and Biology until Thanksgiving break.

I have no idea how to work the combination lock on my locker, but Catherine shows me and watches me practice until I do it right. I put everything inside except for the binder and notebook I plan on taking to Psychology, then walk with them to the classroom.

I'm not sure why people are staring, but it's impossible not to notice. Everyone's eyes are on us, and no one else has chaperones with them. I wonder why that is. I don't think about it for long, though, because my stomach sinks with the imminent goodbye.

"I don't want you to go," I say to both of them while staring at my feet.

"The day will fly by," Catherine says. "Watch. You'll be fine. Don't forget, your gym clothes are in your locker. You'll need to get those before you head to gym."

"Okay."

She kisses my cheek. "Have a wonderful day. I know you'll have a boatload of friends by the time it's over. I'll give you two a moment; Jackson, I'll be in the car."

He waves over his shoulder, then turns back to face me. "You gonna be okay?" he asks.

I nod, though I'm unsure. I don't know how else to answer, though. There's no way I'd be able to leave now. I can't get out of this. I have to get through.

"Anyone messes with you, just tell me," he says. "I will fucking kick their ass."

"Okay," I whisper, then jump as the warning bell rings. "What does that mean?" I ask.

"Time to head in," he says, then holds my face with both hands. "I'll miss you today, beautiful."

My face radiates with heat at those words, and I close my eyes and smile. He kisses me slowly, gently, until someone clears their throat loudly right next to us.

"I'm not sure what you think you're doing with such blatant PDA, but I'd advise you to read the handbook," an older woman says. "No touching. No kissing. Get to class before I write you up."

I break away from Jackson with fear and surprise, but all he does is roll his eyes as she walks away. "Old bitch," he says, then checks left and right before pecking me on the lips again. "I'll be outside at 2:45, when you get out. We'll go get ice cream or something, okay? I'll see you then."

"Okay," I say, the nervous jumpy feeling spreading all over my body.

"Okay," he says, then nods with finality. "You gotta get in there, babe."

"Okay," I say, then take one step nearer to the door as he turns around. "Wait, Jackson."

He looks over his shoulder casually. "Yeah?"

"I love you," I whisper, urgently. "Can I say that here? I love you?"

He laughs, happiness breaking up the tension on his face. "Yeah. I love you, too, kitty. A lot. Write me notes today, or something. I'm gonna miss your face so damn much."

"Okay," I say, for the thousandth time.

"Anyone in the hall better find their classroom!" a voice shouts.

"You gotta go," he says, urging me along with a smile in his eyes. "I'll see you in a few hours."

I nod, then disappear into my first high school class ever. A lot of the desks are already occupied, but I find one in the front row and sink low into the seat, shoulders hunched by my ears. I flatten my hands over the cover of my Psychology book and keep my eyes on the teacher; I can't bear to look around the room because I know people must be looking at me.

"Bull fucking shit," I hear from behind. "She didn't tell me that."

"Yeah, and why would she tell you? I'm not even supposed to be telling you right now."

"I don't believe it. You seriously fucked Meredith at that party?"

"Yeah. And in her parents' bed, too."

"That's kinda fucked up, if you think about it."

"Yeah, well it happened."

I crinkle my forehead and raise my upper lip, disturbed at the topic of conversation. I didn't know it was a regular thing for high school students to be having sex, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Me and Jackson are doing it; but I thought we were different.

"She was fucking flexible, dude. She sucked me off for like, ever, too."

I cringe again, unable to believe that I'm really hearing this. Is this honestly something that people my age talk about in public?

"What was her pussy like? Was it shaved? All natural?"

"You already know it was shaved. Come on."

I widen my eyes, lean forward, and bury my face in my hands. I already want to disappear and class hasn't even started.

"Hey, can you two pigs shut up for one second?" another voice says.

It's the girl sitting right next to me - she has shiny white teeth and pretty, curly hair. She wearing intricate makeup that I've never seen before - sparkles on her eyelids and subtle red lipstick on her mouth. I wonder how she did it so well.

"Save it for later. You're so fucking gross."

"Stop listening, then," one boy laughs. "What are you, gay?"

"I have ears, dumbass," she snaps, which earns her a series of 'ooooohs' from the two behind us. She turns to me after and quietly says, "Sorry. Just try to ignore them. They're really gross."

"Oh," I say, put on the spot. I don't know why, but I blush. "Thanks. I… I… yeah. It was just… yeah."

"They're idiots," she says. "Dumb boys. Are you new?"

I nod and blink a few times, rendered silent apparently.

"Cool. I'm Stephanie. People just call me Steph, though. Where'd you move from?"

"Uh… Otsego," I say.

"Never heard of it," she says, shrugging. "Welcome to Huron. You know anybody here?"

I shake my head no.

"Can I see your schedule real quick?" she asks, and I open my binder to take it out and hand it over. "Oh, cool. We have the same lunch. Maybe I'll see you. Wanna sit together?"

"Sure," I say, hope lighting up in my chest.

"Nice," she says, then the teacher stands up to start our lesson.

…

Steph and I part ways after Psychology and I feel lonely when she leaves. I'm not used to being alone and having to fend for myself - for my whole life, there's always been someone by my side. Usually, a sister or three.

I find my way to the gym on my own, though, clutching my gym bag while I walk inside. The room is huge with rubber floors and concrete walls; I've never been inside a place this big. It makes me feel tiny, especially with everyone's voices reverberating off the walls.

I flock with everyone else while the gym teacher tells us to separate and change into our workout clothes. She points the girls in one direction and the boys in another, and I bring up the rear as we head into the right half of the private rooms.

They all start changing immediately, but I freeze, unsure of what to do. I stand in front of an open locker, but I can't seem to put down my bag. I stare inside it, mortified that there are nearly-naked bodies all around me while I look at the dust mites in the corner. Is this normal?

Most of the girls filter out, then the gym teacher comes in. "Get going, girls!" she barks. "We're gonna get right on it today. No lazy days." She looks at me, still fully dressed. "You new?" she asks. I nod. "Welcome. Get dressed and get your butt out there."

Disjointedly, I set my bag down and pull off my shirt. I stand there in my bra and jeans, totally exposed, and hear whispers come from behind me. I'm tempted to look towards the source, but figure it's better to mind my own business. I tug my gym shirt over my head and change out of my pants quicker than ever, then lace up my tennis shoes without even looking up.

"Just so you know, new girl," someone says as they pass me. "Arizona Robbins was totally checking you out. You should watch out for her."

I squint at her, this sandy-haired girl, at a loss for words. "I…" I stammer, but nothing else comes out.

"She's gay," the girl hisses, and I continue to frown. We stare at each other for a long time, and it's clear she expects me to respond, but I have no idea what's going on.

"Okay," I say, and the girl rolls her eyes before walking away in a huff.

I get up a few moments later, feeling bouncy in my new athletic shoes, when someone else brushes up beside me while walking.

"Hey," she says. "Don't worry. You're not my type."

I blink hard, still thoroughly confused. "What?" I say.

"What Meredith said," she continues. "I wasn't checking you out like that. I was looking at you 'cause I didn't recognize you. I didn't know there was a new kid."

"Oh…" I say. "Yeah."

"But it wasn't like that," she says. "I'm not creepy."

"Why… would it be creepy?" I ask.

"Well," she says, confused now too. "It's not really okay to look at other girls in the locker room. Even if you are gay. That's just a gross thing to do."

"Gay…?" I say, voice rising at the end.

Her eyebrows lower. "I like girls, honey," she says. "Everyone knows. I'm gay."

"Oh," I say, realizing. I've never heard that word before. "Oh…"

"Yeah," she says, then bumps me with her hip as we re-enter the gym. "You're cute, but I tend to go for brunettes. See you around."

Unsure how to take that reaction, I frown and try to piece everything together that I just learned. Girls can like girls, which I assume means that boys can like boys, too. I never knew that. It opens up a whole new world of questions that I'll have to remember to ask Jackson later. He might know.

…

When it's time for lunch, I make my way to the cafeteria and stand in the entrance while watching everyone else go through the motions. I have no idea where to start.

"Need some help?" someone asks, and I turn to see one of the guys from Psychology, the one with the unkempt, dark hair. It looks like a crow's nest. "I'm Derek. I think you sit in front of me in Psych."

"Yeah…" I say, and clutch my lunch close to my chest. "Um…"

"April!" I hear, then see Steph waving from a nearby table. "Over here!"

"I… I gotta go," I say, then hurry and sit down next to her, sighing with relief.

"God, do not let him get near you," she says. "He'll sleep with anything that walks. He'll definitely try and get you in bed." She looks at me and raises her eyebrows. "And you don't strike me as the type of girl who'd be cool with that."

"I… no," I say, shaking my head while unfurling the brown paper bag. "I have a boyfriend."

"Oh, look at you!" she says. "Alright, good for you. Does he go here?"

"No," I say. "He's gonna start at U of M in a couple days."

She makes an impressed sound. "College boy," she says. "Well, damn."

I smile a little while picturing him in my head. I miss him a lot, and can't wait until the school day is over so I can see him.

"So, did you move here for him?" she asks.

"Um…" I say, unsure of how to answer that question. "Um… kind of. I moved off my family's farm and we came here. I used to be homeschooled. This is my first year in real school."

"Oh, shit," she says. "No wonder you've been looking like a fish out of water all day. Why did you move away from the farm?"

Thinking about it puts me in a bad place that I don't want to return to, so I just shrug. I pick at the orange that Jackson packed in my lunch and shed the peel with my fingernails.

"Alright, we don't have to talk about it," she says lightly. "You kinda remind me of this friend I used to have, Izzie. She moved away a couple years ago after she got cancer, then went into remission. She always put me in a good mood. You guys have sort of the same vibe."

I smile at that. "Really?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says. "I like it."

"Does that mean we're friends?" I ask. I just want to make sure.

She laughs, though I'm not sure what's funny. "Yeah," she says, then wraps an arm around me to jostle me playfully. "Best buddies."

…

I pay full attention in English and soak up everything the teacher has to say. She doesn't go into much detail because it's only the first class, but I answer almost every question. And every time she calls on me, I get it right. I feel a bursting warmth in my chest that might be something like pride.

In Global Issues, I can't help but zone out as the teacher drones on and on about the expectations this year. As he talks, I pull out my red notebook and pen, then let my thoughts wander to Jackson.

I smile to myself as I think about seeing him. All I want is to run into his arms, hug and kiss him, and tell him about everything that happened today. I have so many questions, and a ton of stories.

I want to hear about his day, too, that he spent at college orientation. He was more worried about me and it didn't seem like he had time to be nervous, but I still wonder if he was. I hope he has a lot of funny things to tell me about, because I love when he tells me stories that make me laugh. Maybe he made a friend, too.

I swirl my pen over the paper and write one simple phrase. It's all I really need to write.

You're all I can think about…

…

When the last bell rings, I feel a lot of things. I'm excited that I get to see Jackson, but also impressed overall at how well my first day went. It was scary, but not traumatizing like I thought it would be. People were curious about me because I was the new kid, but that was it. They didn't think I was some freaky farm girl. To them, I'm just another kid from a different town.

As I gather my backpack and shove everything inside, including first day homework, Steph comes up behind me. "Hey," she says. "Are you trying out for any fall sports?"

I look at her confusedly as I zip up my bag and throw it on my shoulders. "What?" I say.

"Tryouts for volleyball, tennis and cross are tomorrow."

"Cross?" I ask, but that's not the only word I don't recognize. The other two ring somewhat of a bell, but I'm not quite sure what they are. "I've never done anything like that before. What's sports?"

"What are sports," she giggles. "You really don't know?"

I shake my head as we make our way out to the parking lot.

"Oh," she says. "Well, uh, they're like organized games. It's a competition sort of deal. You play on a team, and it's pretty fun. Well, volleyball and tennis you're on a team. Tennis, kind of, I guess. Cross country you're on a team as a whole, but it's focused more on independent running. Do you like to run?"

"From what?" I ask.

She laughs, and I try to join in though I'm not really sure what was funny.

"You crack me up," she says. "Wait. Don't look now, but some guy is totally staring at you."

I look over and see Jackson leaning against his car and my whole body flickers with excitement. I gasp and smile, then clutch my backpack straps. "That's my boyfriend," I say, and it might be the first time I've ever gotten to say it out loud. I can't resist saying it again. "My boyfriend, that's my boyfriend right there."

I wave at him with one arm above my head and giggle uncontrollably when he waves back.

"He's hot," Steph says. "Get yours, girl."

I look at her while wearing the wild smile he gave me, and she's smiling back. "I should go," I say. "But see you tomorrow?"

"You got it," she says. "For tryouts?"

"Uh, sure!" I say, already walking away. "I can run!"

"Sounds good!"

I turn around fully then and sprint towards Jackson, backpack slamming against my back with every step. He laughs while watching me, and catches me swiftly in his arms when I finally arrive. I wrap my limbs around him and he spins me in a circle, kissing my face like it's been years since we've seen each other instead of only hours.

Without letting my feet touch the ground, we look into each other's eyes and grin. I press my nose to his and he nuzzles the tip, kissing my lips gently after.

"I wrote you a note today," I say softly, framing his face with my hands.

"Yeah?" he says, hitching me a little higher with his hands under my butt. "Is that all you did?"

I laugh and tilt my head, then press my lips to his. When I pull away, I say, "Yeah, basically…"

"What are we sending you to school for then, kitty?" he asks, still joking.

I shrug and laugh, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs while I kiss him again. "I missed you so much," I say. "Did you miss me?"

He nods and kisses both my cheeks, one after the other.

"How much?" I ask.

He sets me down and I stand in front of him, hands flat on his chest. "Get in the car," he says, then steals one more quick peck on my lips. "And I'll tell you."