When I visit my locker at the end of the day, I consider making a quick stop at the counseling office on my way out. Someone needs to know what Zoë is doing to herself, and I wonder if maybe Ms. Sauvé could be that someone. The up side of telling Ms. Sauvé would be that Zoë might get help and stop cutting. The downside is that Ms. Sauvé would be legally required to call Zoë's mother, which would end badly. Based on what Zoë has told me about her mom, I think she's the kind that would be angry rather than concerned if she knew her daughter was cutting. Fuck, this is pointless. Adults are useless. I've known this since the first time I was taken to see a therapist as a kid, but it's somehow more frustrating when it's hurting someone other than me.

Just as I'm about to close up my locker and head home, Tristan nervously approaches.

"Esme, I think Zo has a problem."

It's awkward to be talking to my ex's current, but I realize that this conversation isn't about me or about my past love. It's about Zoë, who seems to be all I can think about lately. It's in my best interest to give a damn, so just this once I'll try.

"I know," I say, my own feelings of helplessness starting to sink in. "What are we going to do?"

I watch Tristan fold his arms while he thinks about how to word his idea. "Miles and I talked, and we agreed that we can't just tell on her and expect her to be happy about it. I mean, I learned my lesson about playing the narc last semester."

I feel relief wash over me. He isn't planning to involve me in completely betraying her, at least. "So what else can we do?" I ask.

"Maya saw some of her cuts too," Tristan says, "and the three of us were all thinking that maybe we need an intervention. It'd just be a chance to talk to Zoë where she'd have to actually say something back instead of ignoring us, you know?"

Poor Tristan. I can tell he means well, but he has no idea what he's doing. "If Zoë won't listen to any of us by ourselves, what makes you think she'll listen to us in a big group? Don't you think she'll feel ganged up on?"

"I don't know," Tristan says tensely. "I just…y'know, we've got to do something. I don't want to watch another person I care about destroy themselves."

I know he's referring to what Miles did last semester, and I do feel a small twinge of guilt over that. "What's your plan?" I ask.

"I told Zoë to meet us at my place after school," Tristan says. "She knows she needs to be there, but she doesn't know why. I'm unsure whether to involve Winston or not," Tristan said, "I kinda want to limit it to people who already know what she's doing."

If he has to stage this ridiculous, awkward intervention, I'm at least glad he's thought it through that far. "That sounds like a good idea," I say.

It takes me a moment to actually make the decision to go to this well-intentioned but likely doomed intervention. I figure I should be there to keep things from blowing up worse than they have to. That's not usually my job, but Zoë seems to bring a protective instinct out of me.

Maya is there too, worrying herself sick. Tristan sits next to her, trying to reassure her that this won't be like "that other time" while Miles stands around with his hands on his hips, looking unhappy to be in the same room as me.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about last semester," I say to him.

"S'okay," he said. "It's partially my fault anyway. I shouldn't have let you give me those pills."

"Truth," I respond. "So are we cool?"

"Like a cucumber," he says, sounding too sour to mean it sincerely.

Once we're all settled onto Tristan's couches and such, Zoë walks in looking upset. "What is this?"

Tristan looks very presidential as he stands up and faces her. "We're all worried about you, Zo."

Her eyes twitch nervously around the room, like she's looking for an escape. "Oh God."

"We've all seen you cutting," he continues. "We think you're in trouble, and we want you to consider seeking help."

She shakes her head. "Esme? Seriously? Tristan and Maya I can believe, maybe even Miles, but you're here too?"

"I figured I'd be better off coming than skipping if it had to happen anyway," I say.

"How about instead of coming or skipping you try warning me next time so I can be the one to decide between coming or skipping," she snaps.

"This isn't Esme's fault," Maya interjects. "We're all just worried about you, okay? Whatever's going on, you need to talk to us. Tell us what's wrong, please."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Zoë insists. "Nothing."

I sigh, feeling a combination of frustration and worry overtake me. "I've seen your scars, Zoë. We all have."

She looks like a deer in headlights. I feel bad for doing that to her, but I know that this is important. When she finally speaks, she speaks with the kind of anger people get when they're really scared and won't admit it. "What I do to myself is none of your business. It's none of any of your business, so why don't you all fuck off?"

With that, she storms out of the house. Against my better judgment, I decide to follow her.

"Did you not just hear me?" Zoë asks. "I told you to fuck off."

"I know, but listen to me," I say. "I'm not really into the mushy business, so please don't make me say this twice. You're pretty much the only friend I have, and it would suck if anything happened to you."

"Well it's your lucky day 'cause nothing's going to," she says. "I'm fine. I'm just under some stress, okay?"

"Stress that's entirely self-made," I say. "You don't have to come out to everybody, like not to your parents and the whole school, but you could at least admit you're gay to yourself. To me for fuck's sake."

Zoë actually starts to cry. "I can't. If I say it, even to myself, then suddenly I can't run from it anymore. It becomes true, and then my whole entire world falls apart. My mom becomes my worst enemy, my boyfriend becomes a beard, and what will I have left?"

"Plenty," I say. "You'll have Tristan. You'll have Miles. You'll still have a father out there, and hell…not that I count for anything, but you'll have me too!"

I know I should stay and listen to what she has to say and try to slowly reason out our relationship, but I can't. I get myself out of there, afraid of the heartache that her next words will cause. Fuck it. I'm starting to fall for her, and I can't ignore it any longer. I don't think she can keep ignoring it either, but I know she's going to, and I know it's going to destroy her. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?