"Are you okay?" I glanced up from my knees to where Dr Grant was sitting, tapping his pencil quietly against his notepad. He had his Doctor Look on. I was starting to be able to recognize his faces now. Doctor Face only happened when he was Deeply Concerned About Something, and it usually came with an inviting cock of the head and slightly narrowed eyes. I thought of the notebook he had given me, full of my thoughts, the lists he'd had me make, the mantras he'd made me repeat. I had been so sure that he could cure me.

I nodded.

"What have you been up to?" I hadn't seen him in a few weeks-he'd been called away for the beginning of the semester. I had seen the long lines of cars driving back to the university, had heard the boom boom boom of first semester parties. I would never go to college. No one would ever think I was worth the cost. No one would even think of it.

I shrugged. I didn't feel like talking. I was pretty sure I would be able to, if I wanted to. Dr Grant wasn't terrifying anymore, but I had no desire to try.

"What does the shrug mean?"

I shrugged again. His eyes narrowed further, and he pursed his lips. Unlike with Nola, this expression on Dr Grant wasn't threatening. I was a puzzle to him, and he was trying to figure me out.

"Don't feel like it today?"

I shook my head.

"Did something happen while I was gone?"

I locked eyes with him again, then looked away. The seconds stretched out between us, pushing him to the other side of the room, the other side of the house. The other side of the planet. I found myself wishing he was far, far away from me, and a twinge of guilt swept through me. It wasn't his fault. I didn't want anyone to be near me.

"Fawn, you know I'm here for you, right? There is nothing you could tell me that would make me judge you. Your secrets are safe with me."

He meant it, but I remembered the day when he had turned away from me when I'd told him I didn't want to be a freak anymore. He had judged me then, whatever he said now. He didn't want to judge me, but he'd done it anyway.

"We don't have to talk, you know. We can just sit here, if that's what you'd rather do. You do look tired." He gestured to the couch. "You can take a nap, if you want. But this time is yours, so you get to decide what we do with it."

I tapped my foot on his carpet, watching the curve of the toe of my shoe. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to scream. I wanted to weep. I wanted to wrap my hands around Nola's neck, around Tom's neck, around Mary's neck, Henry's, Mireille's, Julia's, and even Ned's, and strangle them until they noticed me or until they died or until I died. I wanted to be held, to be loved, to be loved unconditionally. I wanted someone to be proud of me for something besides saying a couple words in public. I wanted to cause grievous physical harm to the people I loved most in the world for no reason. To be noticed. Me. The girl who had nightmares that revolved around being noticed at all.

I couldn't tell Dr Grant any of that. He already thought less of me for even thinking I was a freak. What would he think if he found out I actually was one?

"Fawn, my darling, my dear," Henry said, stretching out next to me, his arm flung across the back of the couch. He wasn't too close, but he was close enough for me to feel the electricity of his nearness. "It has been too long."

It had been a day. It had been fifteen hours. I sent him a look and tried to get to the bottom of the page of my book. We weren't in Mrs Bertram's parlor, but instead in the living room downstairs. Mrs Bertram had sent us down here so we didn't have to whisper around her.

"Not in a talkative mood, are you?"

"N-not really."

"Am I bothering you?" His head tilted toward me, his eyes sparkling with humor. No one had looked at me like that, not since Ned had left. Ned rarely smiled.

Thinking about Ned made me angry and sad at the same time.

"Yes." No stutter.

"Do you want to go for a walk or something? In the great outdoors? It's still nice out there. Still warm enough." He stood up and held out his hand. "Come on, Fawn Price. Let's go for a walk. God knows I could use one."

I looked up at him, my pulse racing with annoyance. "No." I tried to keep my voice level.

He sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair enough to make it stand on end. I found the effect distracting. Henry crouched down in front of me, his eyes a little lower than mine.

"Here's a true story, Fawn. Well, as true as I can make it. When my mom died, I didn't leave my house for, like, three weeks. I shut myself inside, and nothing and nobody could get me to come out, not even Mary. And the bastard of the thing is that when I finally left and went for, like, a walk, I started to feel better immediately. I was so in my own head, you know? Getting outside was like getting out of myself for a little. Now," he held out his hands in a position that indicated surrender, "I'm not suggesting that everyone leaving and you being here alone is the same thing as my mom dying, but it's a change, you know? And you can sit here and try and read fucking Anna Karenina, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that Tolstoy isn't going to make you feel better about your situation. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do, but if I have to come into this house tomorrow and watch you walking around like someone died, I'm going to flip my shit. I would really, really, very much, super, definitely, decidedly appreciate your company as I take a turn about the grounds, and I would like to invite you to do so. Capice?"

I gaped at him, mouth open. He had told me more about himself in that one speech than I had ever known about him. I wasn't sure when the last time someone had said so much to me had been, but it had been a long time. I felt my heart melt toward him a little. I had been rude. He was just trying to help, after all.

"Please?" He wore a charming, pleading little smile.

"Let me g-get my shoes," I grumbled, propping myself off the couch. He grinned and high-fived me.

"Awesomesauce. Let's do this."

Henry had been right-it was still warm enough to walk around outside without a jacket. Fall, real fall, was fast approaching, by the smell of the wind. Fall had always been my favorite season.

"I bet you know every corner of these grounds, am I right? Like, you know all the hiding spots and such."

I nodded. "We used to p-play hide-and-seek all the t-t-time."

" 'We'? What, like Mireille and Julia and Tom, too?" His incredulity was so funny I grinned.

"S-sometimes. Mireille liked to s-earch because she didn't want to g-get dirty. She would always give up before she found me, though."

"Why?"

"Because I had the best hiding spot and she never wanted to find me, anyway." I said it matter-of-factly, since it was a matter of fact, but Henry still frowned.

"So you know about all that, then."

I stopped, looking up at him. His surprise was clear on his face.

"I grew up with her, you know. There's n-not m-much I d-don't know about."

He just looked at me, a concerned frown still on his face. I turned away from that face, from what it meant. He had assumed, like everyone else, that I was incapable of understanding what was going on around me just because I couldn't talk about it. Mireille had never wanted me around. Nola had never wanted me around. I had always known that, even as a mousy, timid, damaged eight year old. I had been in a prime position to know when someone didn't want me around. That was how I'd grown up. I wondered if Henry was as capable of understanding true malevolence.

No. No, he wasn't. He hadn't been able to grasp the idea that I didn't want to talk a walk with him. What would he do if someone really, truly rejected him?

I tried not to think about it. It was one thing for someone to reject me, or even Billy. We were used to it at this point. People like us, we could deal with being unwanted. Billy used sarcasm and humor. I used silence. We both pushed on. But people who had grown up adored, the way Henry and Mary had, the way Ned and Tom and Julia and Mireille had, what would it do to them to learn that some things were impossible? How could they even understand that some things were impossible?

I walked away, strolling toward the big tree. I didn't want to think about Ned, who still hadn't called. I didn't want to think that anything was impossible for him.

Henry caught up with me, hands casually in his pockets. "Still, bet that wasn't really the worst fate, right?"

I sent him an amused glance. "N-no one has ever found my hiding p-place." I had said so much already. I was doing well.

"No one? Not even Ned?"

I shook my head, looking away quickly.

He stepped closer, a mischievous look on his face. "Can you tell me? I swear to God I will keep your secret until I die."

He was very close. I could smell him, a clean, soapy, piney smell, blended with something else that was infinitely more confusing. I didn't particularly like him, but I had a brief flash of what might happen if I stepped a bit closer and touched him. What would it be like? How would it feel?

I had looked at Ned like his once, when he was vulnerable and asleep. I had imagined brushing his hair out of his face. I had never imagined spreading my hands over his body, or having him touch me. I had never entertained the possibility of that happening. I was in love with Ned, but I had never imagined him this close to me, had never imagined what it would mean if he touched me the way I had seen Henry touch Mireille. I was not in love with Henry, but I wanted him to kiss me.

I was out of my mind. I was completely out of my mind.

Henry watched my face, and something in his eyes changed. He could read my thoughts on my face, I knew. His hands came up to cup my elbows, warm and firm. My arms bent until my hands touched his abdomen. I could feel him breathing as he pulled me to him.

My first kiss happened underneath a tree at the very beginning of fall. It was sweet, simple, and remarkably innocent, given that the man who was kissing me was adept at ripping women's clothes off with his eyes. In short, the kiss was perfect. It was just with the wrong man.

I pulled back, my hands now flat on Henry's chest to push him away. He looked down at me, confused. "What's the matter?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it. There was no way I could explain it to him.

"Well, well, well," came a voice from behind me. Henry released my elbows and I turned to face Mary, a weekender bag thrown over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised, and a wry smile on her face. "I go away for a week and look what happens."

I glanced at Henry, who rolled his eyes at me, then winked. He was clearly not intimidated by Mary.

Not the way I was.

A wide grin spread across Mary's face. "Ned is going to die when I tell him."

A/N: So, excuses excuses here, but my computer died (again) and then I was mid-semester. But now I officially have my Master's and exactly nothing to do until I get a job. So things should be coming faster now. Sorry for the false promises, etc. I love you guys for continuing to read this story. Thank you for your patience, my loves.