My dearest Sigrid,

Your concerning behavior has brought itself to light. I worry for you and the place you are at mentally, presumably everything has been piling like a tumbleweed and it is soon to grow taller than you. As you might not know, I am friends with Mr. John Keating and he has informed me that you are showcasing some symptoms of major depression. This is something to be taken with the most gentle and considerate hand. Better than to give you a phone call and have the conversation fall into a downward spiral I am certain you'll try to blame on every thing else but yourself, I write to you to inform you that I will be arriving to Welton very soon.

Theresa has been calling home a lot more recently, she says you don't pick up the phone anymore and I want to let you know you are doing the right thing. There are humiliating, dehumanizing things people would do for money and one second of vulnerability caused your downfall in a world I was sure I had sculpted for you. I have failed you as a father, this much I know. I have failed you as a friend, as your mother wished for me to fill in the role. It's time we start picking up the pieces from the floor and put them back together.

Remember: even when you are certain it is too late to reconcile and better yourself, time is in your hands and being 'too late' is an excuse. Being too late to something is a figment of one's imagination to console the denial, to envelope the distasteful thoughts into falsified comfort.

Think. Let your sun come up before it shifts into a permanent winter you'll struggle to come out of. And love yourself, writing and painting the way we taught you to with that same smile I wished to have when my art turned bleak. Make you art extraordinary, your life extraordinary, say what you can't in every margin. Most people take that for granted.

Your father,

the melodramatic arguing, chasing, and packing things in case she'd suddenly get an adrenaline rush for Massachusetts: Sigrid never got the chance to open the letter from her father. The white envelope sat on her nightstand for almost a week, reminders from her roommate filling her ears every morning and nights before going to bed. Yet, she threw herself in bed and thought restless and intrusive thoughts.

It was difficult. Deciding. Making that pros and cons list was insensitive, it tore them apart from being human. Thinking of all the good moments she overlooked the bad, and having emotions decide just made her remember the barrier broken between Richard and herself for having sex. She figured he meant more to her because he was the first boy she had had sex with since Mr. Blythe. He'd made her forget temporarily, and most importantly, she didn't feel guilty about it until she reconsidered bringing up new soil to the land that was Charlie and herself's relationship.

Richard, in his own way, was a corn maze to her. His switched persona caught her off-guard, his words telling she was pretty made her feel secure, and there was something particularly captivating toward him when he recited little poems. He'd hold her, always, after and let her dish out on her problems. Sometimes he'd braid her air, others he'd clothe her so she wouldn't have to move, or talk about his own inquiries.

After that slip up where he pushed her away from the door and back into bed, they were quiet. It was a 'hello', angry removal of clothing, hatred sex, and silence. No hair braiding, no poems, no arms around each other. It was mechanical. And it was most certainly a fight both of them weren't going to back down from. Yet, they didn't make an effort to fix it.

He wouldn't even call her Lori anymore.

"I really need help," she whispered before face planting onto a pillow. Maeve and Layla had heard her from the bottom bunk, they had gotten back from a soccer game and were currently cuddling while complaining about how sore their calves were. They giggled quietly as they tried switching from little spoon to big spoon. "What with?" Kassandra said, almost carelessly, while rereading a book she struggled to keep in one piece.

"Boys, homework, I don't know....setting myself on fire," she groaned as she turned to face the roof. She held her hands over her stomach for comfort. She'd eaten too much at lunch she felt her food baby and nearly went nauseous at the thought of how much sauce was on the spaghetti, "It doesn't make sense."

"How come?" Kassandra flipped a page.

"Is it this whole Charlie thing again?" Layla rolled her eyes, Maeve playfully pinched her side to get her to quiet down.

"The Charlie Thing," all of them echoed like it was a historical event. They made ghost noises as they repeated the same phrase a couple more times.

She scoffed, "Don't make fun of me, this is serious."

"Oh we know," Maeve giggled, "C'mon then, we'll make a circle on the floor like we're a cult and talk about it."

"No."

"Fine, then you won't get any help."

It was silent for a couple seconds before she threw one of the pillow she didn't use to sit down. "Fine, but promise not to make fun of me at all. I need some serious advice and you all struggle to sound like you care," she went down her ladder then pulled on the girls legs to sit on the floor.

"Ok, maybe not sitting down on the floor. Can we stay here? I'm really sore and we finally got in a comfortable position," Maeve pouted at Sigrid in an attempt to convince her. "I'll never forgive you if you make us detangle from each other."

Sigrid looked over at Kassandra, she threw her pillow down reluctantly. "Ok you two lovebirds, I'll let this slide this one time."

"We appreciate you," Layla mumbled, half asleep put still playing with Maeve's hair. Layla clung onto Maeve's back like a spider monkey, leg fully over her and Maeve knew the moment Layla actually fell asleep she'd have to fight for her air. Layla lazily opened her eyes, moving to rest her chin on Maeve.

"How is that even comfortable for you?" Kassandra tucked her skirt to make herself 'ladylike'.

"It's not, I just love being impossible," Layla grinned before looking up at Maeve, who turned her head back to groan, "Shut up, you love me."

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Anyways!" Sigrid butted in, "I need to make a decision. And quickly. Before he slides off my hands like sand and I need to settle for the Elvis impersonator in front of Bloomingdales."

"Do not," Maeve mumbled one last time before Layla pressed her lips against hers. Sigrid seemed to be piqued, being ignored by them. Maeve apologized, directing her attention to her after kissing Layla's cheek.

"Choosing? There's two boys? Golly, Sigrid I didn't think you had it in you," Kassandra folded her arms in amusement, ready to swallow every bit of information like a Thanksgiving dinner and immediately report to Marvette. She'd get a kick out of this.

"Yes, there's two boys," she put her face in her hands. "There's Charlie, and then this Richa-

"RICHARD?" all of them spluttered in disbelief. Once the disbelief had faded it transitioned to disgust, which Sigrid could partly agree to. There was a far more obviously attractive boy out of the two, and it wasn't him. "How did you even get emotionally involved with Richard? You two are like ice and wine."

"Everyone knows not to put ice in the wine," Layla shook her head in disapproval. "You two are like water and oil."

"Like paper towels being used to dry the ocean," Maeve added.

"Like dogs and people who are deathly all-

"We get it! We're not a common mix. It's frowned upon, not recommended. Otherwise impossible to a common person's eyes," Sigrid laughed. "But trust me, you don't know him like I do. He's actually really sweet," she looked down at her hands, refusing to blush in front of them because she knew she'd get hell for it. "And considerate. And selfless. I totally painted him the wrong way, you know?"

"Really?" Kassandra leaned forward in curiosity. "Tell us about him."

Maeve and Layla understood what Kassandra was up to but stayed quiet. Layla gave a disgusted look at Kassandra.

Sigrid sighed, "Well..I used to really hate him. Like want to throw him in the Grand Canyon type of hate. He was unbearable, and it always felt like he had it out for me. But then it slowly started to change, he started smiling at me in the hallways and letting me copy his notes when I didn't want to get out of bed. It was an unspoken thing, I'm still uncomfortable telling any of the boys when I'm on my period and Richard knew when I didn't want to get out of bed that that is the reason. Even before he tried to help me...he just always knew and made sure I had everything I needed. And it's weird...because he did so much to show others he hated me just to completely shut down the barriers when we were alone,"

Maeve and Layla decided to sit on the floor to continue the current spill coming from Sigrid's heart. "He warned me about you guys," she looked around uneasily.

The girls furrowed their eyebrows in confusion, "Why? Because he knew we were going to be better-looking than you?" Layla said sarcastically. Sigrid rolled her eyes.

"Theresa, Charlie's mom. Before you all came to Welton we got in this disagreement and she hit me pretty bad," the girl's eyes widened in horror. "That's one of the reason's Charlie came to apologize to me and why we weren't on speaking terms for so long. Richard warned me about you all because Theresa said she'd exchange me. She said that if I wasn't going to be a fit wife for him she was going to exchange me for someone that could play the role. She called me a dog. She said, and I quote, 'Charlie could get a new dog any day for the week', she picked Marvette. Then it became unclear who else she'd pick when everyone came walking in. Speaking as Theresa, you all are options."

"Has she seen me?" Layla held Maeve's hand in front of Sigrid. "I can't write in cursive, I can't do math, and I compliment other girl's asses too much to ever be considered straight!"

"Yeah, I can't...do math either," Maeve mumbled the last part, not liking the other word that explained why she was holding Layla's hand.

"Ok, I think all of can't do math. Sigrid...I know you can't write in cursive either."

"Kass...do you think I'm gay?"

Maeve jumped at the word, they all went red. "Well it would explain why you do so terribly with boys."

"I..." Sigrid blinked a few times in disbelief. "I think we should move on to Charlie."

The girls giggled as they noticed Sigrid going beet red. "If you can please!"

"Charlie's mean, but at least he's never made me get to the point of crying. Richard did that a few times unintentionally, but it still happened. Charlie knows when to stop and he always makes sure I know when he's joking. He used to call me Bambi, and I hated it at first but then it turned into me saying I despised it while the butterflies in my stomach debunked my every word. He's protective, I like that. He's not afraid to say what he's thinking, or do what he's planning on doing, he doesn't live life with expectations. Everything about him is new, you can't read him like a book and already know how it's going to end. We kissed three time, the night he said he liked me. He was comforting me when Knox tried sticking it out for me for not knowing why Chris didn't show him the interest he wanted,"

"And I know I'm dramatic sometimes, if not all the time," she peered up at the roof as the girls looked at each other knowingly. "But the entire time he was trying to get me to explain I was thinking about the one relationship I did have. How cold his hands were...how he constantly made me feel like a child for doubting him. All the gaslighting...it became too much and so I ran and Charlie ran after me. That's when I found out he liked me, and I really liked him back. All that time denying because I was afraid of someone to turn out like Mr..Mr. Blythe, it all went away when I chased after him and kissed him in the snow. It felt like a movie. I felt our breathing sync, I felt his heartbeat against my hands and his hair swishing on my forehead. It felt like I couldn't get enough of him. He was something amazing that happened to me, and it went away because of Theresa. I hate her. I despise her. I wish she would die."

roamed the hallways in search of nothing in particular. Her hair was still wet from the long shower she had after her soccer game. She'd scored four goals and she felt invincible, Stephen walked next to her in an almost completel silence. He'd look over every once in a while to mumble who he knew behind the dorm doors. "Steph...I really appreciate you walking around with me," she mumbled as she looked over at him.

"I-It really isn't a problem. I've got nothing to do and you were lonely so I figured I'd tag along. I just wish I knew where to take you, this is the third time we've passed my dorm," he pointed at the door with a small chuckle. She smiled in return.

"Yeah, it's really a shame there isn't much to see around here. Do you want to go back out to the field? I have an extra ball in my dorm, I could go get it if you want to play soccer. We could get the boys to come along. It'll be great," she grabbed his arm excitedly.

"Ette, you just showered, and I doubt we have enough people to form two teams."

Truth is he wasn't as great as he wished he'd be and he wanted to find another medium to impress her. She pouted, "It's me, you, six other boys, and Stassie, she always says yes. That's what...nine people? We could have four people on each people and have someone as a sub. I'm sure we could work something out."

He didn't get a chance to disagree before he got dragged along. She went knocking on the boy's doors. They walked out, amused to how Stephen was getting handled like a rag doll. "Ok, everyone. There's going to be a game in ten minutes at the field. I need a headcount of who wants to play."

Stick and Peter looked at each other before going back inside to get their cleats. The rest of the poets decided to play as well, Marvette gave Stephen a huge grin. "Look we got Peter and Stick too. That's...twelve people?"

Gerard walked outside with Stephen cleats in hand, "Alright! I'll go get Stassie," she squealed excitedly before scurrying to the girl's wing.

and Kassandra gossiped in the hallway as they put on their cleats. Mr. Hall looked at them before tipping his head a hello, they both verbally greeted him before looking at each other with wide eyes and standing up to see where he was going. "I think that's Sigrid's father," Kassandra mumbled as he started looking for dorm numbers. He stopped in front of one of them, they realized the assumption was correct and waited for the door to open. They'd never seen someone go so pale at the arrival of someone they hadn't expected. She was as white as paper, "Oh, I'm going to love this. She hasn't sent him any letters since she came here and she's ignoring the one he sent her a week ago. He must be fuming," Kassandra smirked as Mr. Hall welcomed himself inside and the rest of the girls scurried out of the room.

Maeve and Layla looked at each other with grins but they quickly fell when he slammed the door shut. Layla's eyes widened comically, "Do you think we should've checked him for bombs? It'd appreciate it if my room was still there when he leaves."

"Ah yes, because he could totally bring in a bomb and only explode our room," Maeve squinted and Layla's stupidity.

"Of course, he'd find a way to do it if he's just as crazy as Sig."

Maeve and Layla met up with Marvette and Kassandra, Marvette smiled at both of them then looked down to examine their bruises legs, "Want to join us?"

"I'd rather do anything than be in there," Layla mumbled.

"Lulu, you just finished a game. I dragged you back to the dorm, you can't play."

"Whatever, mom. I made you drag me because you don't baby me anymore."

"I'm not dragging you back!" Maeve called out as the other three girls were already running out of the school. "That's fine! But if I die, my cold dead body will be your fault!"

The front doors opened as Marvette threw the ball for someone to catch, it hit the back of Peter's head and he fell face-first onto the damp grass. Maeve groaned, stopping herself from stomping childishly and running after them. Peter was getting mud off his face once they got to where everyone else was.

The boys were already picking their teams. One of the captains was Charlie and the other was Todd because everyone decided he should be in control of something, ironic taking into account that he wasn't in control of that decision. They picked from the crowd, Richard hoping Charlie wouldn't pick him because he had a vexed expression on his face. He was decent enough to not get personally attacked by the soccer ball but not as skilled as Charlie to run in case someone went for shins out of pure revenge. He sighed in relief when Todd pointed at him. He jogged toward him and shook hands with Neil, a huge grin on his face.

Charlie picked Peter, who was telling himself his asthma wouldn't act up after ten minutes of running. Charlie was unsure of his decision but he had already secured Gerard. The girls went to the small crowd to choose from. Stephen looked at Marvette sadly, he was the only boy aside from Stick that hadn't gotten chosen. Todd picked Marvette, she grabbed Stephen by the wrist as led him to Todd's team with a kind smile. Charlie took both Maeve and Layla. Kassandra and Stick look at each other awkwardly before playing a game of Rock Paper Scissors to decide who would go where. Valerie came along after from inside the forest, she sat by the benches and waited for the game to start. Knox, who was the sub, sat next to her. She nearly fell asleep as he talked about his 'lover'. Unsurprisingly, of Chris.

silence was overwhelming to her, he did not sense the discomfort as he stood across from her with his arms folded across his chest. She hadn't seen him in a considerately long amount of time, she assumed he would never step foot on Welton, but as he stood in front of her waiting for her to speak she realized she was mistaken. "Sigrid, it's rude to keep company waiting."

"Oh I'm sorry, I haven't got any tea or crumpets to invite you to. I wasn't expecting your company, so I didn't necessarily have the time to tidy up. Can I interest you in some..." she looked in her cabinet, her eyes widened as she noticed a certain box her father would yell at her for having. She cleared her throat, deciding to continue the joke as she took out a pack of gum, "Sweet watermelon blast gum?"

"Sarcasm is a bleak color on you, Sigrid Taylor," he prevented himself from glaring, instead looking around the room. He sighed in disbelief, "I take it you didn't have the precious time to open my letter before I arrived?"

"Correct," she looked down in shame, "I didn't have the time to open it, it's become decoration on the nightstand."

"That much I could tell," he tried to joke but she didn't budge. His eyes widened slightly at the awkwardness before he cleared his throat. "I suggest you open your letters the week you get them. Especially if it's got a parent's name is on it. I could've been dead."