I sit with my head resting on my desk and mindlessly bounce from Sudoku to YouTube to Instagram on my phone. Katie's Instagram is lit up with pictures of her and Luke drinking in Eric's basement, and the other guys play beer pong in the background. Obviously I didn't get an invite. I'm alone on yet another Friday.

So I might as well embrace it. I'm burning out, though, and I need another hit. If I get high enough, I'll forget about school, Katie, Luke, everyone. But there's one person I don't want to forget: Lucy. Wherever she is, whatever she's doing, I hope she's okay.

I've never met someone like her. All my friends have always had two-story houses and big backyards. Katie has a swimming pool with a hot tub attached, and we used to bounce off her trampoline into the water every year at pool parties. But Lucy wasn't born in the attic of an abandoned building—she must have a family, an old house, a life. I can't stop wondering where she came from, and what led her to being homeless.

With a flick of my thumb, my feed refreshes again. A few new random profiles just followed me. I've been getting more media coverage lately so I actually have a couple thousand followers now, and my name shows up on Google, which I'll never get used to. I've always been anxious in the limelight, but it got a billion times worse after what happened last year. I love hockey, but I cringe at the idea of so many strangers being invested in my life. It's all starting to get so real.

Through the window, I see someone walk up our driveway. Shit, my family was supposed to be gone for hours, they can't be home already. Eye drops in my hand, I peek outside, where a girl stands on the porch. Lucy.

Maybe I'm still stoned, but I smile like an idiot. Just yesterday, she basically said she wants nothing to do with me, yet here she is.

I open the window. "Hey, thief girl!"

Her head snaps up, but when she sees me, her shoulders relax. "Hey."

"Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"No, I'm returning this." She holds up my coat. "I was going to just leave it, but since you're here, come get it."

"I'll be there in a second—don't run away!" I race downstairs and whip open the front door. It's still light outside, and snowflakes rest on her faded leather jacket with studs missing along the shoulders. Her bangs are stuffed in a black beanie and the violin is at her side, that flimsy denim backpack on her shoulders.

"Here," she says, "take this back."

The porch is cold on my feet as I step outside, and the air smells crisp. "It's yours. I gave it to you."

"I don't need your pity coat, Elliot. It will only draw attention to me, and someone will steal it." She averts her eyes. "It's a nice coat... miracle I was able to keep it for this long."

After what happened the other day, that makes sense. My chest pulls, but it isn't pity I feel for her. I'm not like Katie. I don't pretend, at least not like that. I just want to help.

"Fine," I say, "I'll take it back. Wanna come in for a bit?"

"What? No, I think I'm good."

"I have Fruit Roll-Ups."

Lucy's nostrils flare. "What?"

"Fruit Roll-Ups. You know, those—"

"Yes, I know what they are, Elliot. Are you seriously bribing me with fruit snacks to get me in your house?"

"Yep. Take it or leave it."

After a few moments of silence, where she eyes the shit out of me, she huffs. "Fine. I'll come in for like, five minutes."

Grinning, I hold the door open for her. Lucy passes under my arm, and once again, I'm alone with this girl. Her eyes—dark brown, spotted with gold—shine under the lobby's chandelier. They're so pretty, but she looks at me like I'm a freak.

"Are you seriously high right now?" she asks.

"What? I had a shitty day, okay? Don't judge me."

"Okay then. Anyway, you said something about Fruit Roll-Ups?"

"Right, they're in the pantry."

She kicks off her boots and sets them on the mat next to Charlotte's old Uggs. I follow her to the kitchen, and it's funny how she already knows where to go. Little stalker girl. And she's so... short. Her green and black flannel reaches past her hips while baggy jeans hide the thinness of her legs. Lucy goes straight for the stool she sat on last time, and I toss a Fruit Roll-Up at her.

"Hey so, look..." A faint blush crawls up her freckled cheeks as she tears off the wrapper. "I didn't mean to snap at you yesterday. You were trying to help. Thanks."

"That's okay." I pause. "Did you know those guys who attacked you?"

"Sort of. Everyone knows everyone around there."

"You're okay now though, right?"

"I look okay, don't I?"

Aside from the fact that she's super skinny, yeah. She looks good.

We fall quiet. A million words are on the tip of my tongue, but I'll just babble like an idiot if I open my mouth, so I keep quiet.

"You know..." Lucy's Fruit Roll-Up dangles from her lips like a snake's tongue. "You're not very good at this whole talking thing."

"Well, fuck. Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"Sorry—shit, I mean. I'm not sorry?"

I laugh. She does, too, but she hides her teeth with her knuckle. It's pretty cute, not gonna lie.

We sit for a while, and I tiptoe around asking her questions about herself because I don't want to be too pushy. Mostly, I ramble. She listens to me complain about my dad and hockey and school, before she eats three more fruit snacks and says she should go. It sucks, because for a minute there, I'd actually forgotten everything going on with my friends and the team.

Chimes cling at the front door and echo through the hall.

"Shit, that might be my parents," I say.

Lucy scampers to the back door, but I slide in front of her.

"No! It'll be worse if they see you sneaking out back. Just play it cool, pretend you go to Saint Jacob's."

"What?"

"My high school, genius."

"Don't get snarky with me, Junior."

I raise my eyebrows at her, just as Mom and Dad walk in with grocery bags in their arms. Their eyes land on Lucy and widen.

"Oh!" Mom exclaims.

"Hi." Dad frowns. "El, aren't you gonna introduce us?"

"Right. This is Lucy. She's my—"

"We're partners," Lucy says.

"Yeah." I nod. "For Science."

"Right..." Dad's hawk eyes squint at me.

Oops. Not supposed to have girls over when they're not home. Sorry, forgot.

Dad sets the grocery bags on the counter and faces Lucy. She walks right up to him and shakes his hand.

"I'm Lucy. It's nice to meet you, sir."

My jaw nearly drops as she gives the same polite greeting to Mom.

"Aren't you adorable," Mom gushes.

Lucy grins and hides her mouth, and I swear her cheeks redden. No longer the mischievous thief girl I've been getting to know, she adopts the persona of a nice, shy student. And it's genius. Mom and Dad eat it right up.

"El," Dad says, "is Lucy staying for dinner?"

Lucy backs away. "Oh, no, it's okay."

"You sure?" I whisper. "My mom's making pizza."

"No, really." She nibbles at her bottom lip. "I can't intrude..."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't be intruding at all!" Mom points in the air. "It's decided, then. Lucy, you're joining us for pizza. It's been way too long since one of El's friends has been over."

Lucy forces a tight-lipped smile. "Of course. Thank you, ma'am."

While Mom and Dad put away the groceries, Lucy follows me into the living room, where I face her with a smirk.

"You know, you're awfully polite for a street girl."

She shoots me daggers, leans up on the tips of her toes, and whispers, "I'm going to kill you for this."