I planned this so well. An even 20 chapters. (Ha, planned.) But can you believe it's really here? I can't. Hope you like. Last chapter. Please let me know what you thought. Apologies x infinity for the wait.


Now I see that it isn't the problems along the way that make us or break us. It's how we learn to stand and face them that makes the difference. -Joan Bauer, Rules of the Road


Chapter 20: Pressing On

I think we're going somewhere, we're onto something good here
Out of mind, out of state, trying to keep my head on straight…

And I won't sit back and take this anymore
Cause I'm done with that, I got one foot out the door
And to go back to where I was would just be wrong
I'm pressing on.


By the time they get back home, James and Lucy are both exhausted, and they're both terrified of what will happen when Mrs. Diamond gets ahold of them. He'd been on his way home when his mother called him, screeching into the phone that this was the dumbest thing he'd ever done and how he would be grounded until he went to college. Maybe longer.

He'd tried to explain to her what was happening, but she was having none of it. So James resigned himself to the yelling and hung up when she was done, thankful for the fact that it would be awhile before they got home and hopeful that Mrs. Diamond would have time to cool off.

"It's gonna be fine," he says, keeping his eyes on the road. "We're not going to let anything happen to you. Once she knows, once we explain it to her—we just have to make her understand. She won't make you go back home."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Lucy tells him, staring out the passenger window. There are few cars on the road and not much else to look at but the highway ahead of them and the occasional tree.

Truthfully, she sounds a lot braver than she feels, because this… this is her only hope. She can't—won't—go back home, not as long as Jack is there, and if James is wrong about his mother, then. Then…what? She literally has nowhere else to go, because it's not like she can just go crawling back to Carlos, not now. Not after… She didn't even say goodbye to him, didn't try to explain it or anything, just left with James—god, what a bitch, she thinks—walked right on out of the hospital without checking that he really was going to be okay. Who does that, Lucy asks herself. You do, she answers. You avoid and you stay quiet and you try to not feel anything, and a fuck ton of good it's been doing you.

James has barely pulled into the driveway when the front door to his house flies open and Mrs. Diamond storms outside. She grips James by shoulders and shakes him slightly. "What the hell were you thinking, James David? Taking off in the middle of the night?"

"Mom—"

Before he can start explaining, his mom pulls him into a hug that he returns tightly. "You are in so much trouble, James David. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but your friend needs to go home."

"Mom, wait. She can't go home. She doesn't have anywhere to go."

Mrs. Diamond frowns. "What are you talking about?" She takes a good look at Lucy and realizes the girl must have been through hell and back, with her tired face and her disheveled clothing and her unwashed hair. "Come inside then, both of you, and explain to me what is going on."

"This is Lucy, Mom," James says when they're all inside the kitchen. Mrs. Diamond frowns, trying to place the name.

"Lucy. From, ah, your group?"

Lucy nods and pretends not to notice the immediate pity that fills Mrs. Diamond's face. She doesn't know what James' mother knows about her, but all the same, she knows Lucy's been in therapy, and that's enough to at least gain her some sympathy.

"Don't be mad at James," Lucy says quickly, trying to intervene before the woman in front of them can get a good rant going. "It wasn't his fault. We ran away and I called him in the middle of the night because I didn't know what else to do—"

Mrs. Diamond silences her by holding up her hand. "Lucy, you look exhausted, and quite frankly, like you could do with a shower. Why don't I grab you some clothes from the laundry room and let you get cleaned up? Then we can all sit down and talk this out."

"I—yeah." Lucy falters, not having expected that response. But… a shower in a real house, with normal sized shampoo bottles and hot water that runs on a temperature other than icy or scalding sounds like heaven right now. "Okay."

After she points out the guest bathroom to Lucy, Mrs. Diamond returns to the kitchen and sits with James.

"Aren't you mad, Mom? I thought you'd be furious."

"Oh, I am. I wasn't kidding about you being grounded until you go to college. But both of you look like you've been through hell and I want to know what's happening. So start talking."

So James talks, and whatever guilt he feels about betraying some details of Carlos' personal life dissipates as he explains why he needed to take off in the middle of the night. It all comes out as one long run-on sentence and he's not even sure he's being clear. He pauses to take a breath.

"Then Lucy called me because she knew his mom would have to come take him home and she can't go back to her house so I told her she could stay here, and in retrospect I probably should have cleared that with you first, but if you knew her the way I do, you'd understand what I mean about her really not being able to go home, and I'm really sorry I worried you, but I had to go help them, Mom."

"James," Brooke sighs, "whatever problems Lucy is having with her parents, they need to be sorted out with them. I know you mean well, son, but…"

"Mom, please. You don't understand. She can't go back there. Her stepdad is literally the worst fu—the worst person ever, okay? He—he hits her."

Mrs. Diamond gasps. "Are you sure?"

"I've seen the bruises, Mom. That's why she's been at the Palm Woods. She's scared of him. But the thing is, she's eighteen, so, she doesn't have to go home if she doesn't want to, right?"

"Technically, no," Mrs. Diamond says slowly. "She's a legal adult now, so her parents can't force her to live with them if she has other options. But hasn't she told her mother what's been happening?"

James shakes his head. "She's too afraid."

"I need to think about this."

"Mrs. Diamond?"

James' mom turns to find Lucy standing in the kitchen doorway, her hair wet, wearing the Nike shorts and t-shirt Brooke had given her. The clothes hang on her small frame loosely (though not nearly as much as James' clothes had the last time she spent the night), but that isn't what Brooke Diamond notices first.

"Oh, honey."

It's impossible not to notice the scars that run down Lucy's arms, and the ones littering her thighs. They range from pale and fully healed to angry and red and recently made. There are short rows of lines, as if they had been done carefully and methodically, and there are hasty gashes done in moments of especially horrid pain.

"I understand if you don't want me here," Lucy says softly. "And I'm sorry about worrying you."

"Come here, Lucy." Mrs. Diamond pulls out a chair for Lucy to sit in and watches the girl closely for a moment. "Your stepfather. He abuses you, physically?"

Lucy nods. "And um…" She glances at James. "And… sexually."

Brooke closes her eyes for a second. "And no one knows? Except us, I mean?"

"And Carlos."

"Okay. I won't make you go back there, Lucy. I can't make you confront him if you aren't ready. You'll be safe here for the time being. When James goes off to college… well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Thank you. So much, Mrs. Diamond."

"It's fine. You look exhausted. Go sleep for awhile and then we'll figure out what to do about getting some of your clothes and things."

When Lucy leaves the room, Brooke turns back to her son.

"Are you serious, Mom? About letting her stay?"

"I'm not made of stone, James. I know you think I am, but I only want what's best for you. And your friend looks like she needs help."

"I don't think that about you."

"Yes you do," Mrs. Diamond says matter-of-factly. "But you're a teenage boy and I've come to realize it's just part of the territory of being a parent sometimes."

"I just get frustrated with you," James tells her. "I feel like you think everything I do is a screw up, from my grades to my friends, to what I want to do with my life."

"I have never called you a screw up, James."

"No, you just made me feel like one." His mother looks hurt but James presses on. "I know you don't mean to make me feel like that, but you have to start letting me decide things for myself."

"I just want what's best for you, James. I want you to be happy."

"I know, but I want you to understand that I am happy. Or at least, I'm getting there."

Mrs. Diamond looks at her son affectionately. "You really are growing up, aren't you?"

"Trying to." James shrugs his shoulders.

"What if we…made a compromise?"

"A compromise?"

"I'll let you choose what you want to focus your studies on next year, but you have to promise me that you'll get your degree before you leave school. And I would like it if you take some business classes, just in case."

"Mom, really?"

"Really."

"That's… yes. I promise. Seriously? This is awesome. Thank you."

James hugs his mom again and she reaches up to stroke his hair soothingly. "Now, you go get some rest, too. You look like hell."


There's a lot of silence and awkward staring at the Garcia house.

Carlos is fidgety and wishes he could sit still because it's actually pretty painful to keep moving, given that every inch of his body feels like it's taken a beating. Which, of course, it has. As he sits in the living room with his brother, his arm in a sling and a bandage on his head, Carlos is still only thinking of James and Lucy.

It's gonna be okay. Take care of her.

Would it be okay, though? Could it? The one—one—fucking girl he'd ever really loved, chose his best friend over him. And that's all he cares about right now, because honestly, being shipped off to Montana doesn't seem like that bad of an option anymore if it means he won't have to see them every day. He wasn't lying when he'd said we both know I'm not that mature.

But no. He'd told James it would be okay, and it would. He would make it because through all of it, his friends deserved to be happy. Especially Lucy, because fuck if he knew anyone on earth who'd been through as much as she had. And if it was James she needed, and not him, then he wouldn't begrudge her that.

Carlos and Javier can hear Mr. and Mrs. Garcia arguing in their bedroom, their muffled voices carrying through the house. Javier huffs a little and looks at Carlos, and Carlos can see it written on his little brother's face that Javier is trying so hard not to blame Carlos for this, but he is, a little bit, and Carlos can see that too. And some of that guilt that he'd been trying to push away for a long time now, that comes creeping back into the forefront of his mind, how his parents can never just relax because they're always dealing with him, and how his little brother doesn't get the attention he deserves, and how they all have to lie and say Carlos is doing just fine whenever any relatives ask about him.

It could have been a lot worse, he thinks. Those guys could have killed him if Lucy hadn't called an ambulance. They'd have beat him to a pulp and left him for dead in the middle of a dark alley. The other thing he thinks as he waits for his parents to come out, is that even though it sucked, and it hurt like hell, and at the end of it all he still lost the girl… maybe that's what needed to happen to get him to realize that the person he's been trying to be for the last few years isn't the person he actually is.

Maybe despite everything, he can be something better than he is.

Because he has to say, at this moment in time, there is literally nowhere to go but up.

When his parents enter the room, Carlos doesn't know whether to expect more yelling or crying or what. They sit down across from the brothers, Mr. Garcia gazing at Carlos with an unreadable expression.

"Carlos. It's time to start talking. We can't go on like this."

And that's it. No shouting. No guilt tripping.

So he talks.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing out of his mouth, something he hadn't said to his parents in years probably, and he's surprised to find how much meaning is packed into those two words. He's sorry for worrying them, he's sorry for their constant fighting, for the fact that they're spending all their savings on sending him to the Palm Woods for treatment. Just. Everything. His eyes tear up of their own accord and he says it again. "I'm sorry," he chokes. "Mom…Dad."

And then his mom is crying and she looks like she wants to hug him but decides against it because it will probably cause more pain than comfort, and his dad looks more relieved than he's looked since Carlos started high school, as if he knows that just by saying those two words, things might actually, somehow, turn out okay.

And actually, somehow, Carlos thinks they might, too.

"We don't want to send you away," Mr. Garcia finally says. "But we need you to let us help you."

A week ago, Carlos would have gotten angry, defensive. He would have scowled and said, "I don't need your help." He would have stomped off to the park and gotten wasted, numbing everything out and loving the feeling of not existing for a few hours. Until reality crashed back down around him.

"If things aren't working at the Palm Woods," his mother starts hesitantly, "we can try something else. If you'd rather work this out with just us as a family, we can negotiate that. Just tell us what you want, Carlitos."

Carlos shakes his head. "No. I—I like it there," he admits. "They can… it helps me."

"But there's one thing that's not negotiable," Mr. Garcia says. "This cannot happen again. So if you want us to take you seriously, the drugs have got to go. You have to get yourself clean and stop selling."

"And you really don't want to make me go to Montana?" Carlos asks, not daring to believe it.

"No," replies his father. "That was obviously a mistake to threaten you with that. We want you safe at home with us, but we need to know that you're going to try to make a change."

Carlos nods this time and looks up at his parents. "I can do that."


James sits next to Lucy on the guest bed, rubbing circles into her back as she holds her phone in her hand. She stares down at it, the seconds ticking by, and still she makes no move.

"You can do this," James tells her.

The girl shakes her head. "He'll make me come home if he knows where I am," Lucy says quietly. "And there's no way my mom will keep it from him, even if I ask her to."

"Lucy…" James pauses, wanting badly to say what's on his mind. He's far past the point where this is none of his business anyway. "I think you need to tell your mom what's going on. She needs to know the truth. You can't hide it from her forever."

"He'll kill me," she mumbles. "Or her. I can't."

"Yes you can," James insists.

"What if she doesn't believe me? Then what do I do? Because if it gets back to him that I opened my mouth…"

"She's your mom, Luce. It might be hard for her to hear, but she'll believe you. She has to. You wouldn't lie about something like this."

"You'd be surprised about what I can lie about," she retorts.

"Then maybe it's time to stop," James says gently. "You don't have to do it right this second. But you do need to tell her you're safe."

Steeling herself, Lucy presses the button that speed-dials her mother's cellphone. It rings twice before a frantic voice on the other end picks up.

"It's me," Lucy says shakily.

James sits close enough that he can hear the woman's response.

"Lucy, where are you? What's happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Mom. I'm—I just wanted to let you know I'm safe."

"Where are you? Do I need to come get you? You have to come home!"

Lucy shakes her head, though her mother isn't there to see it. "No, I—I can't, Mom. Not yet, okay? I'm staying with a friend. And I'm going back to school. But I'm not going home yet."

"But why?"

"I just. It's…" she mumbles. "I'll call you again soon, okay? Don't worry about me."

She clicks the phone off before her mother can protest again and looks at James, who continues trying to soothe her without words. He stays with her in the guest room until she finally drifts off to sleep, hoping against hope that he's doing the right thing.


Carlos and Lucy are absent from school again on Monday, leaving James to fill everyone in on what happened over the weekend. He doesn't miss the side-eye glance from Kendall when he admits that he and Lucy are together now, and he refrains from looking Logan in the eye, not wanting to see the pensive frown he knows is there. He knows he'll have to answer to them eventually, but as of right now, he's not ready to hash things out and endlessly discuss every choice he's made.

After school, he listens to Kendall and Jo have the argument about Princeton for the millionth time.

"Jo, you're the one who applied there in the first place! How can you be so scared of it now?" Kendall asks.

"That's not fair," she tells him. "You know exactly why."

"We're past the whole Jett thing."

"Maybe you are! But to me it's still the first thing I remember every morning and the last thing I think about at night. Every—single—day. So if I'm a little bit scared of putting myself in an unfamiliar situation, I have every right to be! Fear isn't always a bad thing, Kendall. It keeps you from making mistakes. From doing things you're not ready for. It's natural."

"But not when it keeps you from living your life! You know I'm right, so can you just admit that this is something you want to do instead of pretending that you'd be perfectly happy letting go of everything you've dreamed of since you were a kid just to stay with me?"

"Kendall, Jesus, just stop. I don't want to do this right now."

This time, James can't hold in a snort at Kendall's insistence that he's just trying to be helpful. Kendall kisses Jo goodbye, pretending to ignore James, but immediately rounds on him when his girlfriend is out of earshot.

"Dude. What's your deal?"

"No deal," James replies.

"James. Seriously."

James stops walking and looks at Kendall. "It's nothing, Ken. It's just… I mean. I think you're doing a great job with the whole pretending to be supportive thing. It's very smooth. I have to give you props."

"I'm not pretending, jackass." Kendall looks mildly offended. "And I'm not trying to be smooth. But she got in to Princeton, for Christ's sake, and if she stays here just for me, how can I live with that?"

"But you don't actually want her to go, do you?"

"What I want is to support her. And you're supposed to be my friend! I want you to support me for supporting her."

James rolls his eyes. "I do support you. Go Kendall. Woohoo!"

Kendall shoots him a glare, hearing the sarcasm dripping from James' voice. "You're pretending, aren't you?"

The corners of James' lips lift in a slight, sympathetic smile. "Just like you."

He bids goodbye to Kendall, heading for the parking lot, not noticing the figure trailing behind him.


Instead of school, Carlos has an appointment with his therapist. What he plans to say, he has no idea, but he's thinking that maybe it's time to start being totally honest. And that maybe he should start taking her advice.

Before heading to the Palm Woods, he takes one last trip to the park to find Wayne.

Carlos has to stop and laugh at himself for a minute. He'd always thought he was outsmarting Dr. Cartwright when she pressed him for details about his friendship with Wayne. He'd always known she wanted him to acknowledge that his choice of friends was the source of his troubled behavior, from vandalism to drug dealing and everything in between.

What he was never ready to do was tell her she was right.

Because yeah, he'd gotten into trouble, and he'd done a few—or a lot—of things he wasn't exactly proud of, but Wayne had been a friend to him. Hadn't he? If nothing else, he accepted Carlos for who he was and welcomed him into his group when Carlos had no one else. It was hard to forget about all that.

But a clear head is finally starting to change his perspective on it. Carlos has made bad choices—a lot of them in the past few years—and he never wanted to admit that a large part of it was because he wanted to impress his friends. He liked those looks of admiration when he pulled off something crazy, enjoyed it when they slapped him on the back and congratulated him when he got away with stealing something or applying a particularly obscene batch of graffiti to a blank wall. So, no, he wasn't an innocent bystander by any means… but he is finally ready to admit to himself that it's time to cut some things out of his life. For good.

When he gets to the park, he finds Wayne there as usual with a couple of other kids ditching school for the day.

"You look like shit, Garcia," is Wayne's greeting to him.

"We need to talk," Carlos says.

"You breaking up with me?"

Carlos shrugs. "If that's what you want to call it."

The smirk slides off of Wayne's face and he walks off with Carlos so that the others won't overhear them. He looks Carlos up down, noting the sling, the bruises, the bandages. "What happened to you, man?"

"Oh, now you care?" Carlos snorts. "That's funny, 'cause I don't remember you showing any concern before."

"What was I supposed to do, Carlos? You just up and took off with Lucy without telling anyone."

"You were supposed to give a shit!" Carlos says, his voicing raising despite his promise to himself that he would remain calm. "But you don't, and you never have, about anything but yourself." It's as if he's only realizing the truth behind the words as they spill from his mouth, like he's seeing Wayne for the first time.

"Seriously, dude? Where is this all coming from? Is it all your little therapy friends putting ideas in your head? I tried to warn you about them, Carlos. They don't want you the way you are. They only want you if you'll be what they think you should be."

"You're wrong," Carlos tells him. "You want me to believe that because otherwise, you're alone. I might be different to you now, but it's not because they tried to change me. It's because I tried to change me. The only thing they've ever done is help me be the best version of me, and that's a hell of a lot more than I can say for you."

"So, what, you're just gonna run off into the sunset holding hands and singing? Wake up, man!" Wayne shoves him lightly but it's not aggressive or malicious. It's like he just wants Carlos to pay attention. And in a way, he is sincere about it. "I told you, Carlos! They're going to leave you, and then what will you do?"

Carlos shakes his head. "It doesn't matter," he says quietly. "Even if you're right, and every single one of them gets out of this town and I'm still here, I'll always know that during this one year all of them had my back more times than you have in the last three."

"You know what? Fuck you, then," Wayne spits. "You can blame all your problems on me if that's what you think you need to do, but I hope you take a good long look in the mirror and realize that everything that's happened to you is because of you."

Wayne walks off then and Carlos doesn't bother trying to call him back or argue with him anymore. He's right. Everything that had happened to him was because of him, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to make a fresh start now.

When he gets to the Palm Woods for his session with Dr. Cartwright, she smiles at him calmly, her clipboard present in her lap like always.

"Carlos. It seems we have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah," he replies. "I think we do."


Everyone keeps telling me I need to make the decision for myself. That I should do what's best for me and worry about everything else later. What no one seems to understand is that I am doing what's best for me. And it is my decision.

I know he wants me to be happy and to… be the best person I can be. But what if I can only be those things when he's with me? It's because of him that I spoke up. That I confronted my problems—my fears. That I got better.

How can he want me to give that up and start all over again by myself?

Jo stops writing and puts her pen down, frowning down at the last line again. That's it, she thinks. There it is, right there. It had been forever since she actually did the writing exercise in her journal, but now she remembers why it was supposed to be so important. When you write something no one is ever going to see, you're more honest.

And now she realizes that this whole time, she hasn't been honest with anyone. Not Kendall, or her dad, or even herself.

If I do this… it means leaving him and everyone I love behind. My whole support system, everything that keeps me together.

It means being on my own… It means showing myself that I don't have to let fear dictate my life. I thought I had won that battle when I decided to testify against Jett. But I think I'm finally starting to understand that that was just the first step.

I think what scares me the most is that I'll be happy there. It seems unfair to Kendall—to everyone—that after everything they've done for me, I could just be selfish and take off and think only of myself. It seems unfair for me to be to just move on and be happy when they can't.

James was right all along. It's just as unfair for me to use Kendall as a crutch.

Kendall's words ring in her head as she closes the journal.

You deserve to go there, he had told her. You deserve to get the very best out of whatever life can give you. And if that's with me, then that's great. And if it's at Princeton… then that's what you need to do. That's where you need to be.


A short silence follows when Jo explains her plan to Camille. Then, the thin girl squeals loudly and throws her arms around Jo, crushing her in vice-like hug.

"Oh my god! That's amazing! This is great."

"Really? You think?"

"Yes! Look, I know it's not easy—I swear I know—but this, this is going to be so good. And it's our last month of school before graduation and I'm not going to let you be wound-up ball of angst the whole time. Besides, I have some news for you, too. And I haven't told anyone, not even Logan."

"Okay. What is it?" Jo disentangles herself from Camille and notices how nervous her friend looks.

"I'm going to LA."

Jo's jaw drops. "What?"

"I've been getting my college letters back, waiting and waiting to feel what Logan feels when he talks about making his course schedule and touring campus, and the longer I waited the more I realized it wasn't going to happen. I just…" She pauses and looks away. "I want to act. It's all I've ever wanted; the only thing that I've ever felt good at. And maybe… I don't know, maybe I'll get there and find that I should to do the college thing, but I just feel like this is something I have to try. So that's what I decided. It's really happening."

"Oh my God," Jo says, pulling Camille into another tight hug. When she pulls away, both girls have tears in their eyes. "You. Are. Amazing. Camille—you. You're brilliant, and I am so proud of you. But how are you not freaking out?"

"I am," Camille replies. "I'm a wreck. But… I'm also just so ready for this. Can I tell you something? When I started going to the Palm Woods, I didn't expect to get anything out of it. I was going through the motions, doing the bare minimum to make everyone think I was getting better so they'd let me out and I could go back to living the way I wanted. I never really thought about wanting more for myself. But I met you, and Logan, and everyone, and because of you guys, because of everything we've been through this year, I started thinking that I didn't have to just do the bare minimum. I could face my fears, like you did with Jett, and do things I never thought I could. You make me feel like I don't have to let anything hold me back. And so I'm not going to. But no matter what happens after graduation, you will always be my best friend, whether you stay in Minnesota or go to Princeton."

"I don't think I'm as strong as you think I am," Jo says quietly. "Deciding to pick up and leave has been the hardest thing I've ever done. What if I'm not ready? What if I fail miserably?"

"Then at least you know you tried it. The hardest part is deciding, and you've already done that. And you are ready. When I started actually trying to get better instead of just trying to convince everyone of it, I was terrified. Letting you guys get close to me, letting you see me at my weakest? What if I pushed you all away? But if I hadn't tried, I never would have made the friendships I did with you guys."

"Yeah. And you're stuck with us now," Jo laughs, wiping her eyes.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."


When Logan comes over for dinner that night, Camille has to stop and wonder she really is doing the right thing. How she supposed to look in his eyes, the person who helped her through her worst time, and tell him she was planning to leave him?

But he would understand, she tells herself. And that right there is the reason she knows she can do this. Because he'll understand and support her and he won't turn it into a fight. Because he's Logan.

The doorbell rings and Camille lets him in, standing up on her tip-toes to kiss him lightly before shutting the door behind him.

"Hey." He smiles at her with his crooked grin and his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Camille reminds herself to keep breathing as she looks at him.

Even after all this time, he still gives her butterflies when he looks at her, and it's so… unreal that she had had a crush on him for ages before he finally noticed her, and now they're really together, and he's every bit as amazing as she imagined him. Every bit and more. He's the guy of her dreams. Better than that, actually, because he's real.

She's quiet through dinner, doing her best to pick at the meal she'd made, and trying to focus as Logan talks about finalizing his plans for freshman orientation this summer.

"Anyway, so the compromise my parents and I made, since they won't let me go out of state for school, is that they said I could live on campus instead of at home, but I have to come have dinner or whatever every other weekend so they can check on me…"

"I need to tell you something," Camille blurts out, interrupting him.

Logan stops talking at once and looks at her, concerned. "I knew something was on your mind. What is it?"

"I—" Camille stops. She really should have thought this through better. "Um, I…shit."

"Camille?"

"I got into U Minn," she says.

Logan's eyes practically bug out of his head. "You did? That's fantastic! This is—you're not happy," he pauses and stares at her again. "Why aren't you happy? What's wrong?"

"Well. It's. I got into some other schools too."

"Okay…" Logan says slowly. "That's… okay. We can figure it out."

Camille shakes her head. "I, um, I already know what I want to do."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I—I've been thinking about it a lot, and I don't want you to think that I wasn't thinking of you when I made the decision, because I was, it's just that… Fuck." Camille pauses and takes a breath before trying again, wishing she didn't see the cloud of uncertainty settling behind Logan's eyes. "I don't want you to think that I'm—abandoning you or—goddamn it. I can't even… Okay. Here's… I'm going to LA. To act."

She's met with a shocked silence. Logan looks surprised at her announcement, and she can tell there's something else going on in his head but he remains impassive, not betraying any hint of whatever else he might be feeling.

"Oh," is all he says after a while.

"Oh," Camille repeats. "Is—is that all?"

"I don't… really know what else to say," Logan says truthfully.

He's happy for her, really. But at the same time… "When did you, um…?"

"When did I decide this?"

Logan nods and swallows thickly. "Yeah."

"Pretty recently." More silence from Logan. "Can you say something? Please?"

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Anything! Yell at me if you have to, just tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't want to yell at you," Logan says quietly. "I just. I-I know this is everything you want. And I'm so, so proud of you for being strong enough to do this, and I swear to god that I'm excited for you, it's just. Fuck. Camille, I—" Camille looks up and meets his eyes when he pauses, and she notices that they're red around the rims, as if he's trying not to let himself get too emotional.

"You what?" She asks softly.

"I lo—I'm going to miss you," he answers. "What does this mean for us?"

"I don't know, exactly," Camille admits. "I know that I don't want to give you up. But this is something I need to do. You get that, right?"

"Of course I do. I would never want you to come to U Minn with me if your heart was somewhere else."

Camille reaches across and rests her palm on Logan's cheek, stroking her thumb in small circles. "My heart is wherever you are."

"Same here."

Logan grins at her and she can still see the sadness in his eyes as they both realize that in the not-so-distant future they'll have to say goodbye. But tonight is not that night, and Camille speaks again.

"There's something else." She can feel her heart beating in her chest and she knows her face is flushing red. "We don't have to decide and talk about everything tonight. But there's one thing I am sure that I want." She meets his gaze again and hopes that he understands what she's trying to tell him.

Surprised into silence again, Logan raises his eyebrows. "You mean, um-?"

"Yes."

"Okay, not to like, ruin the moment, but what about your dad?"

"Late shift. We have plenty of time."


Kendall exhales, avoiding looking Jo in the eye as she finishes her speech.

"You were right, Kendall. This whole time you've been right. If I stay here next year, I'd just be doing it because I was scared," she says. "I don't want to be scared anymore."

"So… you're going to Princeton," he says slowly, letting it sink in.

Jo nods. "I have to do what's best for me, right?"

"You do," Kendall smiles, his throat tightening. "You know I want that for you. It was just… easier to say it than it is to actually have it happen."

Jo clasps Kendall's hand tightly, her eyes tearing up again. "You can come with me," she says, only half joking.

"You know I can't do that," Kendall says gently. "I can't go with you. I love you, Jo, you know that, but you can't stay here just to be with me, and I can't leave just to be with you. We both have to do what's best for us. But we can make things work when you leave. I don't want to lose you."

"I love you, too! But the thought of leaving you and everything I know here kills me! I don't—I don't think I can do the distance thing, Kendall. It's going to be too hard trying to pretend like we have a normal relationship when we're so far away from each other. I can't do it. I don't…want to."

Kendall takes his hand from Jo's grasp, frowning. "So, what? We're just another one of those high school couples that breaks up after graduation when we go our separate ways? Is that what you want?" He shakes his head, unable to believe the turn their conversation has taken.

"Of course it's not what I want! But let's just… let's just finish out the school year and see what happens. Can't we do that?" Jo pleads.

"No," Kendall snarls. "How can you say that? No, screw that. I'm not going to be in a relationship that has an expiration date! If you don't have more faith in us than that, then we should just break up now."

"No," Jo says. "No, that's not—I don't want—"

"Too late. It's done."

Kendall walks away, fuming, hurt, and feeling betrayed, leaving Jo standing speechless in her doorway.


Camille gasps in a breath when Logan sucks on her neck, her mind and heart racing as she contemplates what they're about to do. His body rests on top of hers, both of them still fully clothed as they ease into the idea of taking this to the next step.

Logan kisses her on the lips and looks into her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Camille nods. "I told you, I do," she says playfully. "You ask me again and I'm going to wonder whether or not you want to."

"Of course I do," Logan grins. "I just don't want you to feel pressured."

"It was my idea in the first place, if I recall correctly."

"Touché."

Logan sits up and backs away from her, pausing to bite his lip before lifting his shirt over his head and letting it fall to the floor. Camille does the same with hers, revealing the purple bra underneath. There isn't anything fancy or particularly sexy about, and she has a moment to wonder whether she ought to have tried a little harder to make this special. There are no candles flickering in her bedroom, no soft romantic music playing in the background.

It's just the two of them in her room with the door locked, both sitting on her bed with their shirts off. The lights are still on, for crying out loud.

Apparently the same thought strikes Logan at the same time, but rather than fret about it, he cracks a smile. "So. This is kind of weird, right?"

His sincerity puts Camille at ease again. "Yeah," she breathes. "But good weird. This is how it should be, you know? I don't want—I didn't want to make it seem like… like it wasn't us. Because I—it's enough for me, just having you here—and I—"

"I love you, Camille."

Camille stops midsentence. "I—what?"

"I love you," Logan repeats. "I just want you know that."

"I love you, too." The words feel strange, foreign on her tongue, but she knows in her heart that she has never meant anything more than she does now.

Slowly, shyly, awkwardly, the rest of their clothes make it to the floor, both of them blushing, both unsure what to do with their hands and whether or not they should cover themselves up. Logan has the presence of mind to hit the light switch, leaving them in partial darkness as her nightlight glows. Both of them take in each other's appearance. Her small breasts, her collarbones, the way he can almost count every individual rib in her torso; the slight muscles of his shoulders and arms, the small patch of hair on his chest, and of course the scars that serve as a permanent reminder of where he came from, and also of how far he's come.

But despite the flaws of which they are both well aware, neither feels ashamed or self-conscious.

"You're perfect."

They say it at the same time, smiles lighting up both their faces before their lips meet, tongues moving together as they had done so many times before.

He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about it. He was a growing teenage boy, wasn't he? He couldn't help the images that came to him unbidden late at night when he was in bed, or in the shower. He couldn't help that he wondered what her body would feel like against his, what her voice would sound like as it rasped his name when he touched her.

What he finds is that none of it is like what he thought; it's better.

She lets out a quiet sigh when his hand finds her breast, her lips parted ever so slightly as he kisses her neck. When he moves lower, Camille's eyes falls closed, her chest heaving as he touches and explores her. Electricity moves up her spine and she threads her fingers into his hair, moaning softly as his fingers move slowly inside her and his thumb rubs her clit. Suddenly she is jello, boneless against the mattress, feeling everything all at once and taking shallow breaths.

Logan bites his lip, a slight frown on his face like he usually has when he is working hard on something. He moves his thumb again and watches the curve of her back as it arches up, feeling her body shiver around him as the comes. He presses his forehead to hers, their eyes meeting as he revels in the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat and her unsteady breathing as she regains composure.

When she can speak again, it's his name on her lips.

"Logan," she whispers. "Now."


Late that night, with Mrs. Diamond already in bed, James and Lucy sit in the living room together, flipping mindlessly through channels. They're trying to keep Lucy's mind off the fact that she's returning to school in the morning, and not doing a good job of it. Still, she feels okay, curled into James' side, his arm wrapped around her, both of them breathing in unison. It's warm and peaceful and safe, which is not something she's felt very often.

Both of their hearts skip a beat when a loud banging comes from the front door. James' head snaps up as the banging continues.

He stands up and Lucy tries to tug him back. "Don't," she says. "It can't be anything good at this hour."

James throws her what he thinks is a reassuring look and continues to the door, standing stock still when he opens it to find her stepfather standing on his front porch.

"You," James says. "What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?"

"Me," Jack snarls back, ignoring his questions. "Where is she?" He attempts to shove past James, but the boy holds his ground and blocks the entrance.

"Leave her alone," James tells him. "She's not going anywhere with you. Not tonight. Not ever." This is when he notices, really notices, Jack's appearance. His eyes are bloodshot and nearly drooping, his clothes disheveled. James draws himself to full height and narrows his eyes. He can feel his anger rising to a boil—the man in front of him is the cause for all the pain and hurt suffered by the girl he loves, and James just wishes he could make Jack feel a fraction of that pain.

But he stays in control of himself. "If you don't get off my property in the next five seconds, I'm gonna call the cops. So leave."

"That girl is mine," Jack snarls, attempting to go inside again. "I'm not leaving without her."

James' fist slams into his face before he ever sees it coming. Jack stumbles backward a step or two, holding his jaw. It looks like he wants to lunge at James, but he seems to think better of it. Instead, he spits on the porch and glares furiously at James.

"Get out of here," James says, his voice deadly calm.

Jack sneers and turns his back, and James closes the door, making sure that the deadbolt is locked before he returns to Lucy.

"I should just go with him," Lucy says, standing frantically.

"No way." James shakes his head and reaches out to steady her. "I already told you, you're not ever going back there."

"This won't be the end of it! He's going to come back! What if he—what if he tries to do something to you? Or your mom? It'll be all my fault."

"No, Lucy, listen, okay? Listen to me. No matter what happens, from here on out, it's not your fault. It's his. This is because of him and what he did to you. He can't hurt you when you're with me. So we're gonna go to sleep and go to school. And we're make it through the day. And we're gonna keep doing that until we can figure out a way to get him out of your life for good."

"How can you be so sure of everything?"

James smiles this time. "The only thing I'm sure of is that I want to keep you safe, and I'll do anything I have to do to make sure you are."


From the moment she walks in the entrance, Lucy knows it's going to be a bad day. She gets called in to talk to the guidance counselor before first period, who lets her know that her chances of actually graduating with the rest of her class are slowly dwindling away. People stare and openly talk about her as if she can't hear them—phrases like "guess the goth slut decided to come back" follow her down hallways as she tries to make it from class to class. Her teachers mark her attendance, some skeptical that she'll be able to make up for lost time, others disapproving of her unexcused absence, and still others merely wondering why she's bothered at all.

Third period is when everything comes to a head.

She sits at her desk, listening to her teacher and taking notes (Logan would be proud) when someone softly knocks at the classroom door before entering without waiting for a response. The guidance counselor shares a few hurried, whispered words with her teacher and the latter turns and makes eye contact with Lucy. It's only there for a moment, but there is no mistaking the look of pity that flashes across her teacher's face before she speaks.

"Lucy, you need to go down to the office. Your mother's here to see you."

Suddenly, her insides are icy and her mind goes blank as she wonders what this could be about. Is she here to drag Lucy home? To force her to tell her where she'd been?

"What's going on?" She asks the guidance counselor as they start down the hall, but the woman merely puts a hand on her back as if to guide her.

"Your mother needs to speak with you," is all the answer the counselor is willing to give.

As soon as they round the corner, Lucy's mom is pulling her into a tight hug. When she finally gets a good look, Lucy notices that her mother is pale and tense.

"What's wrong?"

"I've already signed you out for the day," she says in reply.

Bewildered, Lucy follows her mom out to the parking lot, wondering why no one has given her any clue as to what this might be about.

"Mom-?"

Before they get to the car, her mom hugs her again and this time she can feel the woman trembling in her arms as she sobs silently.

"It's your stepfather," she finally manages to choke out. "He…"

Lucy's heart stops and she grips her mother by the shoulders, suddenly terrified. What did he do to her? "What happened? Did he hurt you? Threaten you? Because I swear—"

"He's dead, Lucy."


James had accidentally shut his phone in his locker, so it's not until lunchtime that he reads the text from Lucy.

He taps the screen, glancing around him to watch out for his friends, not even aware that her mother had taken her home for the day. His eyes widen when he reads the text, words not being enough to express his utter shock.

He's still staring down at it dumbly when Logan joins him and claps him on the back. "You coming to lunch, James?"

Blinking out of his stupor, he looks at Logan with an expression on his face that he might wear if he'd just been slapped. "In a minute," he replied. "I need to call Lucy."

Logan frowns. "Everything okay?"

"No," James shakes his head. "Well. Yes. I don't know. Kind of."

"Okay…" Logan says, confused. "We'll be at the table, yeah?"

"Yeah. Be right there."

Saying nothing else, James hurries away, leaving Logan puzzled in the hallway.

The smart boy shrugs and goes to find his usual seat with his friends, greeting them and finding that the table isn't nearly as full as he was expecting. Kendall and Carlos, in fact, are the only two people there.

"Where is everyone?" He wonders aloud. "James was going to call Lucy when I found him at his locker."

"I heard from Rebecca Reyes that she got called out of class earlier today," Carlos says. "I tried texting her. No luck."

"And Camille and Jo are probably having lunch somewhere else…" Kendall starts hesitantly. The other two look at him expectantly. The blond sighs and pushes some hair back from his forehead. "Jo and I, we… Well, we kind of broke up this weekend."

"Kind of?" Carlos and Logan say together.

"Was this about Princeton?" Logan asks when he recovers from the surprise.

"No! Well, okay. Kind of," Kendall relents.

"Kind of," the others repeat again.

"Look, can we wait for James? I'd rather not have to tell it more times than I have to."

The words are barely out of his mouth before James rushes up to the table.

"Did you talk to her?" Logan asks, momentarily distracted from Kendall's story.

James nods. "Just for a second. She, um. Crap. She didn't tell me whether or not I could tell you."

"Tell us what?" Kendall wants to know.

"Well, she didn't say I couldn't tell you," James says slowly. "Wait, where are the girls?"

"Kendall and Jo broke up this weekend," Carlos says matter-of-factly. "So they're avoiding us."

"Carlos!"

"What? You did."

Kendall opens his mouth to bicker but James cuts him off. "Lucy's stepdad died last night," he blurts. He exchanges a significant look with Carlos, who has frozen in place. The boys have a moment where they're sure they must be thinking the exact same thing: Good riddance.

"How?" Kendall is the first to speak.

"Car accident," James says.

"Is Lucy okay?" Logan asks.

James nods. "They didn't, um… They didn't have a good relationship…"

"He beat her," Carlos says. "Fucking prick. For years."

"Carlos," James hisses.

"What? I'm not gonna sit here and fucking pretend like we have to feel sorry for her because her stepdad died. Piece of shit had it coming. Now maybe she can have a real life instead of hiding behind all these secrets."

The table is silenced momentarily, until—"So, what happened with Jo?" Logan asks.

Rolling his eyes and grumbling a bit, Kendall relays to them what happened.

"And you're sure that's what you really want?" James asks. "I mean, after everything that's happened…"

"That's exactly what I mean, though," Kendall says, refraining from snapping at his friend. "After everything that's happened, I wanted to try to make it work. She's the one who said it would be too hard. Break up now or break up later were my two options. I chose now."

"Wow. So she's really going."

"She's really going," Kendall repeats. "Fuck, you guys. Why did I have to act so supportive? I knew she should go, but I wasn't ready for her to actually do it. I didn't think… This sounds shitty. But I didn't think she would go through with it."

He avoids catching James' eye, but it doesn't stop the boy from voicing his thoughts. "So you were just pretending."

"Do me a favor, yeah? Don't say 'I told you so.' I'm not in the mood, James."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Thank you."

"But," James continues. "Now that you mention it, I did tell you so." Kendall huffs moodily. "You've never lied to her before, Kendall. Why should this be any different? All you have to do is tell her you want her to stay. She was looking for a reason, she even had her reason to stay, and you didn't back her up on it. So if you don't want her to go, then tell her."

Kendall shakes his head. "How selfish would I be if I did that? I can't. Not now. This is the best thing for her."

"So… that's that, then, I guess."

"That's that."


After school, James and the boys head to Logan's house, where they hole up in his bedroom and wonder what they should do. Lucy hadn't responded to any other texts or calls the rest of the day, so they had no idea what was going on with her or how she felt. Was she relieved? Happy, even? Would she finally tell her mom what Jack had been doing to her all these years?

Could there possibly be a small part of her that was sorry ? A part that would grieve and be sad for him?

James wants to deny it with a firm no, but something nags at him. Jack was a monster, yes, but he had so thoroughly gotten into Lucy's head that she might actually believe she can't live without him.

"Sitting in the contemplative silence makes James nervous. It makes him hear his own thoughts, the ones he'd been ignoring ever since he found out the news. But now, with nothing to distract him, a single sentence runs through his mind over and over.

"I killed him," he says out loud, and the other three boys' heads snap up.

"What?" Kendall asks. "What are you talking about?"

"It was a car accident," Logan says gently. "You weren't—"

"I killed him," James insists. "You guys—I mean, not on purpose—I didn't think—but I was just so mad that I wasn't seeing straight—"

"James!" Carlos barks. "What are you saying?"

James takes a shaky breath and looks around at them, as if just now realizing that they hadn't all been present for his internal dialogue. "Last night," he starts. "Jack came to my house trying to force Lucy to come home with him. He was drunk. Wasted. And I just… I told him to leave. I knew he wasn't okay to drive and I told him to go anyway… And now he's dead. And it's my fault."

"That doesn't mean you killed him, James," Logan reasons.

"I should have—"

"Should have what?" Carlos interrupts. "Invited him in until he sobered up? Let Lucy go with him? Then they'd both be dead. This is not your fault! It just happened. Don't waste your time feeling guilty about that asshole. He doesn't deserve the sympathy."


At the end of the week, Lucy once again finds herself dressed up in her nice clothes, sitting in the front row while a procession of people shakes her hand and tells her how sorry they are. She knows what they're all thinking. Poor girl. Her grandmother and her stepdad. Tragic.

And in a way, she is sad.

But not for herself. For the people mourning a man who she hopes is currently rotting in hell. For her mother, who has just lost her husband, having no clue what kind of person he really was.

And so she sits there and listens to people talk about what a fun guy he was, how great it was that he accepted Lucy like she was his own daughter, how much he loved the two women in his life. And she cries. She cries because she can't do anything else—can't cause a scene by walking out of the funeral, or standing up and screaming about how he tortured her for years, how he threatened to ruin her life if she ever told anyone what he did to her. She cries and accepts the condolences of these people who don't know her, and they smile sadly as if they've provided her with a small measure of comfort in this difficult time.

Of course, the bloodwork has been done by now. Not that she'd needed to hear it to confirm her belief. But Jack's blood-alcohol-content had been nearly twice the legal limit that night, so there could be little doubt as to what caused the accident. Her mother had been shocked and heartbroken, while Lucy remained silent as ever.

Her mind had strayed to James, and that night in his house. He'd slept in the guest room with her, his body warm against hers, and had murmured quiet reassurances in her ear until she drifted off. She knew he was feeling some mixture of relief and guilt over the man's death, but as far as she's concerned, James has done the world a favor.

Later, when they're at home and the guests have left their 'I'm sorries' and their sympathy casseroles and potted plants (which, Lucy wonders, who ever came up with the idea of potted I'm-sorry-for-your-loss plants? Like, who thinks, you just lost a family member, what you really need during this time is a fern), Lucy sits in the oppressive silence of her mother's grief. She removes her sweater without really thinking and cringes inwardly when she sees her mother flinch at the scars.

For a brief second, Lucy wants to tell her. But the woman is mourning and this, Lucy fears, would be too much for her, so she holds her tongue, only nodding when her mother says she's going to lie down.

Late that night, when Lucy has fallen into a somewhat restless sleep, she feels herself being shaken awake. And for a second she forgets where she is. Fear sends a shiver down her spine and she says "No!" before she's even registered that the person who's entered her room in the middle of the night is her mother.

Even with only the moonlight shining through the window to illuminate the room, Lucy can see that her mother is pale and shaking. In her hand is Jack's cellphone, recently returned to her.

"What did he do to you?" She asks hoarsely.

Lucy sits up straight in bed, staring at the phone. On the screen is a picture of her. She snatches the phone from her mother's grasp and deletes the picture, only to find that there are more where that one came from. She shakes her head, her eyes wide. "It's nothing—he—"

"Don't lie to me!" She grabs the girl's arm and looks down at it. "He's the one who made you do this, isn't he? Isn't he?"

"Mommy." The word slips out in a strangled kind of sob, and Lucy sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "I need to tell you something."


(One month later)

"I remember being five years old, and people would always ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I always gave typical five year old answers—my mind changed from week to week. An astronaut, a cowboy, a dragon slayer, a superhero. Anything that sounded exciting and fun.

Later, when I was about twelve, the answers were different. Racecar driver, firefighter, president of the United States, Nobel Prize-winning scientist.

Now, I'm eighteen, and you're starting to expect serious answers. It's something my classmates and I have struggled with this whole year as graduation day loomed closer and closer. What were we going to say when we were asked about our futures? You want to hear things like doctor, lawyer, teacher, writer, engineer.

The only thing I can safely say about my future is that I have no idea where it's going.

We've been doing a lot of reflecting this week. Nostalgia has been hitting hard every time we experience a 'last' here. The last chem lab we'll take, the last essay, the last time we'll clean out our lockers, the last time we'll have to eat in the cafeteria. We've been thinking about these last four years and wondering whether we've done enough. I still have my doubts on that front. Have I done enough to prepare myself for college? For life? I don't know, and I can't know until I'm out there experiencing it.

What I do know is that I've made a lot of mistakes, some of them personal, and some of them very public. I also know that I'm not the only one who's gotten through high school on a run of trial and error. And I guess what I'd like to say is, I think that's okay. Because, at the end of the day, we're still teenagers. We mess up, mess around, fall on our faces. And that's okay, because we get back up. We get back up and we keep going, keep pushing forward, hopefully learning from some of those mistakes, and sometimes not, because, well, no one ever accused teenagers of being rational and level headed. We're stubborn, we're fickle, and we think we know it all. We're on top of the world, even when we're not.

Now's the only time we have when we can be this way. So I say, embrace it. That way, when we're older, and people ask us what we want to do, we'll know. Because we took the time to learn who we are and what we want. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that without my mistakes, I wouldn't be who I am today. So while they may be in the past, it's important—at least for me—to remember that my past is also part of my future.

I don't know what exactly my own future will hold. None of us do. But I do know now, thanks to the help of my family, some amazing teachers, and the best friends I've ever had, that I can handle anything that comes my way. We all can. And we will."

Logan looks up and smiles, and the auditorium bursts into applause. He can't pick out his parents in the crowd, but he imagines the proud smile on his father's face, and the tears on his mother's. The principal stands to shake Logan's hand and he returns to his seat, catching James', Carlos', and Kendall's eyes on the way. They all grin at him, and it feels like a scene out of a 90s teen movie. If only an upbeat song were playing softly in the background.

One by one, students' names are called and they walk across the stage to receive their diplomas, no one—miraculously—tripping or stopping to flash the audience. Logan claps and cheers loudly for his friends, laughing when Carlos thrusts his hands into the air and lets out a whoop.

The last person receives their diploma and takes her seat, and the principal clears his throat, a smile on his face.

"I present to you, the class of two-thousand and twelve!"

Everyone again cheers, and it's cheesy, he has to admit, but in this moment, it doesn't matter. So he takes off his hat and tosses it into the air, losing it in the crowd.

After, once the crowd has finally thinned out and he's received the congratulations of some teachers, and he's found his parents and allowed them to fawn over him, Logan's eyes scan the remaining groups of people. He pauses to smile or wave at whoever catches his eye, but the ones he searches for have yet to be found. The only ones he truly wants to spend this moment with.

It's Lucy that he finds first, the flash of red-streaked hair giving her away as she stands quietly by herself, her eyes doing the same thing Logan's were a moment ago. Jo reaches Lucy at the same time, having woven her way in from the opposite direction. Carlos follows shortly after, and then it's James, Camille, and—finally—Kendall. Their group is whole for what may be the last time, and wordlessly, they walk out of the auditorium and into the late spring evening.


"It really is a very good speech." Dr. Wilson smiles and hands the sheets of paper back to Logan. "Very insightful."

"Thanks. I meant every word of it," Logan says.

"I have no doubt that you did. And now that it's done with, how are you feeling?"

Logan shrugs and doesn't say anything for a moment. "It's weird. When I first started coming here, I didn't expect to get any real help. No offense."

"None taken."

"I just mean that… I thought I would come here, do my time, and get out. I didn't expect these people to become my best friends. I didn't know how—how much we'd all need each other. And the other thing… "I guess I thought I'd be better. You know?"

"Better in what way?"

"Just… at recovering, if that's what this is. I thought I'd come here, do my therapy, get better, and be done. I'd go back to my real life and this would all just be like, a speedbump or something."

"And now?" Dr. Wilson prompts.

"I realize now that it's more of a process than that. Like with Jo, or Camille. Just because they stopped coming here doesn't mean all their problems are solved. Mine won't be either, but I think I understand now that every single little thing doesn't have to be fixed before I can move on with my life."

"Do you think, in fact, that you can move on from this?"

Logan bites his lip. "I have to. We all do. Things are already changing. Lucy and her mom moved to Atlanta last week to be closer to her mom's family. James is taking it really hard, but he knows it was probably for the best. Jo's already up in New Jersey for orientation, and Camille has been packing her life away into boxes, getting ready to go to LA. And it sucks that we're losing them, but at the same time, we all have our own stuff to deal with."

Dr. Wilson looks proudly across his desk at Logan. "I'm really glad you've come to that conclusion, Logan. Because today I wanted to tell you that I would like to recommend your release from weekend stays."

"What? Really?" Logan blinks in surprise. "You think I'm ready for that?"

"I do. Of course, I'd still like to see you come in for sessions every so often, just to keep updated. But overall, I think you're going to be just fine."

Just fine. Some people, maybe, would think 'just fine' was a pretty mediocre description of what their life should be. But to Logan, it sounds like heaven. He'd spent so long wading in the deep end of a crap pool that 'just fine' would probably be and exponential improvement. It had been a long time since he could say that he was 'just fine,' and he doesn't think he's quite there yet. But he can be, soon. And he will be. And he'll have Kendall, James, and Carlos to pull him out if he starts to sink again.


So I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them. –Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower


Twenty seven pages later and this fic is done. Complete. Thanks so much to everyone who kept up, reviewed, followed me on tumblr, and just READ this story. It's been almost two years since this thing was started, and I have to admit, I didn't think it would take this much out of me. I had an alternate ending that was quite a bit darker, but ultimately I thought the lighter tone was more fitting. You might be able to guess what it was, but if you want to know, just ask.

Anyway. Thanks again for tuning in. Love you all! Please please please let me know if you liked the ending, and stay tuned for more writing. I will probably take another break until the end of the year and early in the new year plan to have another story started.