On Friday morning, I went to a counseling group, missing my first and second classes. Near the gymnasium, counseling groups are held. There's this room where they assemble students who have been in and out of counseling for months. I was told by Clarissa and Ms. Wilson that they all felt it was a smart idea to get me out there. Let my story be known. I can't help but chuckle at the thought as they told me about it, considering that most of the people in this town already knew what happened.

"Hello," I say as I was getting up from my chair. It had already been my turn to discuss and tell my story. Emily, who sat next to me, had just done sharing hers. She told everyone she has OCD and couldn't stop worrying about evening out the odd numbers. She claims that when one number stands out, it makes it special. To her, at least.

"My name is Lauren," I say, "Lauren Sanders."

All of them are looking at me, quietly. Slowly, their eyes judged me from head to toe to my face as to why I was here.

"I have been clinically—and mentally—diagnosed with anxiety and depression," I say, leaving the most important thing out: my schizophrenia.

There have been rumors circulating about this school. Janice's rumors circulated after she found out about my psychotic episodes. She convinced everyone that I was insane and then was left branded by people as a psychotic woman who had just fled from the psychic ward.

It was like I was wandering around with a note, stuck to my back that says crazy woman: beware. It had been going on for a year, and when the teachers had a meeting, they all stopped and gathered the students at the gymnasium, educating us all about mental health, and that if anyone hears someone make fun of other students, they'll have to report them instantly and they'll get kicked out automatically.

A guy with thick-rimmed glasses lifts his hand as if I were a teacher wandering around asking for questions from someone.

"Yes, Andy?" Ms. Reel, the woman assigned to watch over us and listen to the group looked over at the guy who was raising his hand.

"I have a question for Lauren," Andy says, making me furrow my eyebrows.

Ms. Reel looks at me then looks back at Andy, "I don't—"

"I don't really mind answering questions," I cut off Ms. Reel. She looks at me as I gave her a nod and a reassuring smile that it was really okay even though I'm not too sure.

"People say that you have been admitted to a psychiatric ward. Is it true that you have escaped?" Andy asks, pulling a pen and a little notebook out of his jean pocket.

Ms. Reel grabs the pen in his hand and says, "Andy, we're here for counseling not for your newspaper."

"No, it's not true," I deadpanned. It was a simple answer to a complicated question that I wanted to add an explanation to but if I do, I'll end up looking guilty.

❀

I sat watching Mr. Bennet's mouth open and shut as he points at the board in History class. I didn't hear anything coming from his mouth. All I hear are voices in hushed tones that call out to me all the time. The more I ignore them, the louder they are.

What? I say to myself, answering the voices.

Savannah looks at me and says, "What?"

I glanced at her and the voices died down gradually. She gave me a curious expression on her face, and she tilted her head to one side, studying my face. I smiled at her and shook my head.

"Nothing," I say as I look back at Mr. Bennet.

I was thinking of heading back to Bill's studio when the bell began ringing. It was only when I told Clarissa that I was going to visit a friend I had just met that day at school that she decided to let me out last night. When I told her that, her eyes started to sparkle as if she had just seen a glimmer of hope shining from me.

I grabbed my bag from the floor and put everything back inside my bag.

"I can't believe Jeffrey," Savannah says, grabbing my attention as I hear her talk about how disappointed she was at her boyfriend, Jeffrey last night. "Instead of spending some time with me yesterday on our tenth month, he blew me off."

I try not to cringe or seemed as if I didn't really care when Savannah usuallybrags about those dates and how Jeffrey goes big every month.

"I saw Jenny's post last night on Instagram and they were hangingout," Savannah says, looking at me, mad as if I were the one that blew heroff on the night of their monthly anniversary—a monthsary, she calls it.

"Have you confronted Jeff about it?" I asked her.

We both walked out of our seats, watching Savannah wave goodbye to Mr. Bennet before leaving the classroom. He smiles at both of us.

"No, I'm just about to," She says, eyeing someone from afar.

I follow her gaze and I see Jeffrey by his locker talking to Jenny. Jenny was leaning on the locker beside his, her index finger twirling her hair like she always does when she flirts with guys.

I watch Savannah walk off beside me, approaching them both.

"Is your mother's name Cora Sanders?" I hear a familiar, disembodied voice behind me.

I twist my heel, and I turn around. I see Aaren with his phone in his hand, staring at me. I glanced at him, shaking my head slowly at his question.

"How did you know?" I ask then I said, "I never told you my mother's name."

He's turning his phone in my direction. I'm staring at the photo he's showing me. On a winter day, it was a painting of the Brooklyn Bridge. It was much like the time I toured New York City with my family.

"I don't get what you're trying to point out," I told him as I look up from his phone.

He zooms into the painting at the bottom right. I read it and saw the name of my mother marked on it.

"That's my mom's signature," I say as I grab his phone, inspecting the picture.

I zoom in more and see the date. November 19, 2015. It was the year we visited New York.

"Where did you get this picture?" I ask him as he grabs his phone from my hand and places it back inside his pocket.

"I saw a picture of it on Instagram. It was displayed in a studio named Studio Bazaar. They collect paintings that were being sold at different bazaars in different locations here in California," He says.

How would anyone buy a painting from my mom and then sell it at a bazaar? I want to at least see the painting for myself in person if I can't get it back.

"Do you know where that studio is?" I ask Aaren.

I heard Savannah shouting at Jeffrey before Aaren could even answer my question. When she pushes Jenny out of the way, Aaren and I both watch Savannah go nuts. Savannah points to Jeffrey's chest and, before storming off, she mumbles something. After Jeffrey follows Savannah, Jenny rolls her eyes and walks away as though nothing has happened.

"You up for a trip to Los Angeles?" Aaren asks with a huge smile on his face.