Cat spent Friday and Saturday catching up on her ceramics projects. Thankfully, this seemed to be some sort of art that came naturally to her. Pinch pot? Easy, peasy. A kleenex holder? Also easy. Something about working the clay with her fingers, warming it with her skin, kneading it against the stone workspace, felt so soothing and instinctive. She’d been able to predict every next step the projects called for, just by sensing it. Every moment she spent staining her hands red kept her in a meditative state; no thoughts in or out, no thoughts at all. Just the clay and the tools, and the cold bite of the winter air that snuck through the open roll-up door to the studio.

She didn’t think about anything of the past or the future. After that intake appointment, an odd tug in her stomach made her both nervous and excited for what was to come, but when she sat on the metal stool under the fluorescent lights, the feeling dissipated and left only relief. She didn’t have to decide how she felt about the idea of counseling, or whether or not she could be fixed--or if she was broken in the first place. What remained during her focus was only the promise of something different: the ball of clay would turn into something else as long as she worked it and gave it the proper treatments. She didn’t have to think too hard for all of this to be quite symbolic.

The third project was a mini-bust, a shoulders-up sculpture of a head that was meant to be half the size of a real face of a person Cat knew. The project paperwork cited several ways to build tall structures without drying the clay out or putting in supports, one of which was spiraling clay and building sort of like a pyramid, from the bottom-up, layer by layer, and smoothing it out as she went along. Cat took her time on this, and eventually realized there was no finishing this project in one sitting. So she grabbed a trash bag to wrap around her project, and placed it in her cubby to work on later, hoping it was sealed just enough so that no air could dry it out prematurely. At least she had more time to figure out what face she would try to imitate. Though, the instructions for the project noted an odd phenomenon: busts always had a unique edge, where their creator’s face always snuck through whatever portrait they planned--at least for amateurs. Looking about the studio to gather ideas, Cat figured that either this was true, or amateurs regularly picked sculpting their own face. It was impossible to tell without anyone explaining their work, though. And conversation wasn’t commonplace among the strangers that worked on the weekends.

Cat’s only sense of the world around her returned when she happened to glance at the clock after setting her piece aside. She had no intention of skipping lunch. How in the world did she just spend four hours here, without a single break? More than that, after realizing it was already one in the afternoon, she was starving, and lunch with the group started half an hour ago.

She dumped her supplies into her bucket without cleaning them and scrubbed her hands raw until she saw her natural skin color under the soap bubbles of the sink, then grabbed her bag and dashed for the food court.

Cat’s walk there felt similar to when she overslept and ran to class; it was as if she just took the World’s Most Refreshing Nap. She hadn’t actually spoken to any of her friends yesterday since she was in the studio, either. She got back late, barely had a chance to say good night to Hannah, and woke up early so she could keep going.

Maybe if communications didn’t work out, she could be a starving artist that spent more money on supplies than she earned….

The food court bustled, crowded and warm from all the ovens and stoves of the restaurants; it was so stuffy, Cat elected to take off her sweater and hang it on her bag as she made her way to the buffet-style deli to grab a quick sandwich.

If it weren’t for Peter’s stupid hair poking up over the decorative hedge bushes, Cat wouldn’t have known where to go to find her friends. But that telltale flash of blonde right under the skylight of the cafeteria was a beacon telling her where to go, so she headed over to the center of the court where tall dividers gave the illusion of privacy to sets of tables.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she heard him say with a slight edge to his voice. Cat hesitated on the opposite side of the hedge, holding her tray. He sounded defensive. She didn’t like to make a habit of eavesdropping, but….

“Well, I mean--she’s been so wildly different.” Hannah. She sounded irritated, and the tingling sensation on the back of Cat’s neck made it clear they were gossiping about her again. Rather than round the decoration and announce her late presence, she came to a stop before she could be seen approaching, behind the trash can, behind the hedge. “She’s taken more naps in the past month than I’ve seen her do all last year. She avoids us like the plague--like now? Ignoring all of our texts to skip lunch? And she’s been skipping classes?” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “And I don’t think I’ve seen her do any homework for anything. It’s like she’s a whole different person.”

“And--” Kelsey continued, her voice sing-songy, “like last year she was always messaging this dude on Talkative, but now she’s not even looking at her phone. So it’s not just us. She’s avoiding everyone. When’s the last time you heard her complain about her brother?” Cat pursed her lips. Her knuckles turned white against her plastic tray, struggling to keep the budding embers in her stomach under control. She already felt herself take an automatic step back, solidifying her decision to listen a bit longer.

Cam, who she thought would be on her side, interrupted Peter’s stammering: “I think you guys are right.” Right about what!

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Peter added quickly, further stoking Cat’s anger, “but I don’t think ambushing her with an intervention will work like you think it would.”

“With all due respect, Peter,” Hannah said, seemingly more agitated than before, “I don’t think you have any leg to stand on when it comes to comforting Cat. She hates your guts, and you guys have to have supervised interactions or she’d straight-up kill you.” Cat carefully set her tray down on the dirty table beside her, and slipped into the plastic chair that sat against the hedge barrier, her friend’s voices now effectively behind her. Their energy as a group was irritating, but what they said was far more obnoxious. Why did anyone ever think it was okay to speak for her? Why didn’t anyone ever just ask? She never said she hated Peter…well, recently.

While Kelsey and Cameron murmured words of agreement, Peter stammered again. “I was there--”

“Man,” Kelsey interrupted, “when she hit her head, her main thing wasn’t that she could’ve died, it was that you saved her. Like--” She laughed. “Maybe we should do the opposite of whatever you suggest.” Cam let out a chuckle, though it was airy and a little nervous. Cat scowled. She never even personally told Kelsey that story. Why was she commenting on it?

“Well…,” Hannah mumbled, hardly. She knew, at least, that Cat’s main issue with being saved was the feeling that she could never do the same, not that her savior was someone she didn’t get along with. The way Kelsey twisted it made Cat’s stomach hurt. And although Hannah started to protest, she didn’t try very hard to make it right.

Cameron continued, “Yeah, when I told her what the rumor was that was going around form after the party, she blew up like dynamite. I think the only thing that maybe saved your ass was that Georgia was included in it.” No one laughed, but Cat watched Peter’s hair move back a bit on the other side of the hedge; he was straightening his back, tensing up. She’d only ever seen him shut down like that in front of her.

Kelsey’s voice sounded a little less certain, but she doubled-down on Cam’s comment: “Yeah, you might be right when it comes to us, but leave understanding Cat to us.” Were they completely oblivious? Even if Peter was wrong, couldn’t they tell he was furious right now?

“I think you’re underestimating what she went through,” Peter said tersely. “And fine, you might all know Cat better than I do, but in this case….” Though as she listened to this, she disagreed. Peter seemed the only one to get her at the moment. It was as if his fury leaked through the leaves of the hedge between them, feeding hers.

"I think that as nice as you’re trying to be--”

Peter interrupted Hannah this time, his voice taut and sharp: “You weren’t there.” The table fell silent. “This isn’t something you just ambush someone about.”

“It’s not an ambush!” Hannah was defensive, now. “It’d just be like when she clammed up last semester, with your thing--”

“That was an ambush,” he corrected. “And it wasn’t about her at that time.”

“Peter,” Cam started, now, his voice calmer than before, “chill. We’re not going to attack her. It’s just like, ‘Hey, you’re being a bit distant, come back and party with us.’” Catherine fought the urge to roll her eyes. Cam sounded so stupid right now.

“Didn’t she make you promise not to talk about it to her?”

“Well--” Hannah started to reply, but Peter knew the answer.

“Then don’t talk about it to her.”

“Okay--” Cam started this time, his hand slapping the plastic table. “So you think we shouldn’t talk to her? Avoid it all like she is? Like that’s okay?” Peter responded in kind, but his slap was far louder, echoing across the cafeteria. Cat flinched.

“You think this is something where you just hug it out and everything will go back to the way it was?” His voice was louder, now, drawing a few glances from strangers at distant tables. Cat’s heart sank as her gaze fell to the ground. Internally, she knew what Peter was saying was right...but she didn’t hear it out loud, before. Now it started to click into place in her mind. “This isn’t an argument with an ex-boyfriend. Things aren’t going to go back to the way they were.”

The silence that filled the table on the other side of the hedge could be cut with a knife.

Hannah broke it, “But--like, here’s the thing: she ended up okay. She didn’t die, she didn’t--”

“So you’re cool with what happened, then?” Cat’s eyes widened at Peter’s venom.

“Woah, that’s not--”

“If Georgia wasn’t there at that exact moment, we wouldn’t have even seen her. Twenty seconds sooner or later, Cat would have been--” He didn’t finish the thought. “And none of you would know what was going on, because Cat wouldn’t tell you.” She hadn’t even realized that she’d been clutching her hand close to her chest, holding her breath. Waiting, listening with unbreakable concentration. A small piece of her still felt so angry, even partially at Peter--he wasn’t her protector. He shouldn’t have been speaking for her. But the greatest part of her chest felt an overwhelming, bitter warmth. Of everyone there, why did he act like he cared the most? Cam called her his best friend. Hannah said they were better than sisters.

Cameron scooted his chair further away from Peter, as if he was leaning back in shock, as he said, “We’re on the same side, here. We’re all trying to help her through this.” Their voices sounded uneven through the hedge; three on one, now that Cam scooted away from his roommate.

“Then maybe you should start acting like it,” Peter snapped. “Help all of her, not just the parts that are convenient for you to see.” If Peter hadn’t scooted out of his chair, Cat wouldn’t have been able to blink herself out of Nate’s bathroom. She was only there a moment, vomiting and sobbing in her memories, but Peter’s deep breath brought her back out. “Sorry for the outburst. You’re all just being...incredibly dumb right now.” She watched Peter’s head pop up from the side of the hedge; his jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to get some laps in before practice. See you there, Cam.” The screech against the floor told Cat he pushed his chair in and picked up his tray, and walked to the trash can that punctuated the mid-point between that set of tables and the ones Cat currently sat at. Her throat closed up when she saw the edges of his jacket come into view while he dumped his tray, then the rest of him as he started his way to the door. He hesitated, noticing her out of the corner of his eye, and let out the smallest gasp.

She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him; as if it would help her disappear, her arms wrapped themselves until the sound of his footsteps alerted her to his departure. He seemed to understand she didn’t want to be visible right now, like he’d already seen too much.

“What was that?” Cam asked after a moment of silence. “Did you see that? He looked like he saw something--”

“Do you think they’re hanging out without us knowing?” Hannah asked suddenly, completely ignoring Cam. “’Cause why the hell would he think he’s an expert about this all of a sudden?” She sounded annoyed.

Kelsey hummed her agreement. “I don’t know what that was.” But her tone showed distaste. What, they were done gossiping about Cat, now, so they had to move onto Peter? With the shock fully out of her system, the anger returned.

“I don’t care what he says,” Hannah said finally. “I think we should at least try to talk to her about it.” Hearing this made Cat slam her hand on the table as she rose, and she stormed around the trash can and hedge to face her friends for the first time since she sat down.

Kelsey, Hannah, and Cam stared up at her like they’d just seen a ghost, though all of them looked far guiltier. All it took was seeing her flushed cheeks to let them know they’d been in the wrong.

“I’m not gunna make this a thing or whatever,” she said hotly, “but maybe you should listen to the person that was there, rather than just gossiping about your own selfish thoughts.” Cam was the first to look away in defeat, but Hannah and Kelsey still looked up at her, as if they thought they were in the right. Cat barred her teeth and took a step closer, pointing at each of them. “For the record, this is exactly why I wouldn’t tell you shit. You want to help me? How about you listen to me rather than just spread rumors and gossip behind my back?” She didn’t mean to dig at Cam again, but him shrinking in his chair like a child fed the flame in her heart. Kelsey finally looked away.

“Cat--” Hannah started, her tone defensive, but she interrupted her.

“No,” she spat. Hannah’s lips pursed tightly; her eyes finally drifted to look at her companions, the telltale sign she’d maybe started to understand. “If you don’t see something wrong with all of you ganging up Peter, when he helped carry me back to my dorm rather than just leaving me to get raped at a frat party, then you need to get your heads out of your asses.”

She waited a full second to watch their reactions, to see if there were any disagreements or protests, but she’d successfully scolded them into defeat. If they didn’t at least understand how incredibly insensitive they were being, they at least knew now was not the time to defend themselves.

“We fucked up,” Cameron finally muttered under his breath. She watched him try to make eye contact with Kelsey and Hannah, but they weren’t responsive to him.

Cat sighed. “Yeah. You almost did.” The guilt that always hung around her almost succeeded in her retreating to an apology, but she clenched her teeth and turned away before it could win.

Maybe she was a totally different person, now. But she was done being a doormat. Just because one creep manipulated her into a vulnerable enough spot to take advantage of her, did not mean she’d lost her courage forever. Nate had already stolen too much.