I tap my pen subconsciously on my paper, waiting for the class to end. Charlotte, writing furiously in her notebook, sits in front of me and I frequently get lost staring at her blond curls. They're distracting, okay?

"Alright class, that's all for today, the bell's about to ring! Just get those questions done for tomorrow!" The teacher finally calls out, clapping his hands together. Then, to my surprise, he locks eyes with me. "Ms. Way, I'd like you to stay back a couple minutes, unless you have a bus to catch."

"Um, alright," I say awkwardly.

Charlotte whips around to look at me, her hair flying over her shoulder. "I wonder what that's about. Are you in trouble, Evelyn?"

I don't have the energy to give her a sassy remark back, so I just say, "I didn't do anything." Then I stuff my math notes into my bag.

She laughs shortly, then, with a smirk on her perfectly red-painted lips, declares, "It's a shame your girlfriend isn't here to save you." The bell rings as soon as the words leave her mouth and in the blink of an eye she's already pushed her way out of the classroom along with everyone else.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and take slow steps towards Mr. Philip's desk. He looks up from some papers he's grading as I approach.

"What did you want to talk about?" I ask innocently.

"We have to do something about your grades," he states bluntly. "I know you can do better than this."

"Sir, math has never been my strongest suit."

"Evelyn," he says, standing up from his chair. "You were one of the top in my class just a couple months ago, what happened?"

He looks me in the eye intently, enough that I lower my gaze to the floor. Mr. Philip is a young guy, early thirties, maybe. He's got neat, black hair and trusting blue eyes and I feel bad that I can't bring myself to look into them as I mumble, "I don't know, Sir, it's just been hard."

"What was that?"

"At home. It's been hard at home." I tug on my sleeves nervously.

Silence falls over the room, although it's only the two of us and it was already pretty quiet. I already regret the words I've spoken, but it's too late. They've left my mouth and there's no real way to take them back, which is why I should really just never say anything at all.

"And you haven't been able to complete homework or study because of that?" Mr. Philip asks skeptically.

I nod hesitantly just as my phone buzzes from inside my pocket. I take it out quickly and glance at the screen and, before my teacher can keep me here any longer, I say apologetically, "My dad's outside, I don't want to keep him waiting. I have to go."

Then I dash out of the classroom.

There is no snow left on the ground outside, for which I'm glad, but I still turn the seat warmer on in the car. "Sorry, my teacher just wanted to talk to me before I left." I tell Gerard as I buckle up.

He leaves the now mostly empty school parking lot and heads in the direction of Sam's office. "Don't worry about it," he says. "What did they want to talk about?"

"Um, well—" I sigh. "Dad, I suck at math."

Gee kind of laughs. "Me too, Kiddo. I wish I could help you out with that."

"The obvious solution here would be to just drop out of school."

"Nah, Eve, you can't give up like that."

"I'm obviously joking," I mutter under my breath. He doesn't hear me, so of course that's his cue to launch into one of his inspirational speeches. I truly wonder how many of these I've heard at this point, and why Gerard doesn't just go ahead and do a TED Talk.

"Don't let one class get you down, Evie, you're passing every other one with flying colours, right?" he says confidently, but little does he know... "And there's more to life than grades anyway, you know? I wasn't an A plus student and I'm doing alright. You can be successful even if you suck at math, just work hard and work towards whatever it is you want to do. Don't live your life always trying to make other people happy, you know?"

"Yeah, Dad, I know. I'm trying."

We arrive at my appointment right on time, as usual. Sam holds her clipboard and pen, as usual. And I sit in the comfortable chair in front of her's, as usual.

It's the same thing every week, only it used to help. Talking through my problems with Sam, feeling listened to, feeling like I could say anything I wanted without being judged; it helped. But now I have too much to hide.

I'm wearing an over sized hoodie that's not supposed to be oversized because really, I just stole it from Gerard's closet. It's grey. The sleeves go down to the palms of my hands.

I sit cross-legged in the chair. "Hi," I say.

"Hello, Evelyn." Sam smiles, her eyes lighting up when she does behind her large lenses. "How are you this week?"

"Pretty good." I shrug.

"That's good to hear!" Sam says, her smile never leaving her face.

I let the corners of my mouth turn up as I nod.

"So, last time I saw you, you said you and Emerald hadn't hung out outside school in a while. Is that still true?"

"Yeah, but everything's fine between us. We've just been busy with school and stuff," I explain.

Sam nods understandingly, scratching something on her paper. "How has school been, generally?"

My grades are plummeting.

"Other than busy? The same as always," I say, then sit up straighter in my seat when I remember something. "Charlotte actually acknowledged my existence today! It was weird."

"Oh yeah? What did she have to say?"

I laugh a bit. "Um, my teacher wanted to talk to me and she was like 'Are you in trouble Eve? Too bad your girlfriend isn't here to save you.'"

"What a b—" Sam covers her mouth.

"Say it." I prompt.

"That girl's a bitch."

"You got that right."

Throughout the rest of the session I couldn't avoid telling more lies. Though I vowed I would never do this again, I'm living by hopping from one lie to another. I know you're not supposed to lie to your therapist. That's like, the opposite of what a therapist is for. But what can I say? I'm back on my bullshit.

Sam wraps up the session by clapping her hands together and saying, "Well, I'm so glad to know that you're doing so well recently. I know it must be hard with... hard things going on."

"Yeah, I'm managing better than I thought I would." I pull my sleeves lower, almost to the tips of my fingers.

"See you next week, Evelyn," Sam says.

I wave over my shoulder and turn the handle of her office door. When I open it, I jump back. Gee is standing there, his hand outstretched like he was about to knock.

"Shit, you scared me!" I exclaim, clutching a hand over my heart.

"Eve, we have to go." He has a wild, worried look in his eye.

"Yeah, I was just leav—"

He cuts me off, grabbing my wrist. I bite my lip so as to not hiss in pain. "I mean we have to get home now. Quick." He drags me away and makes a beeline out of the building.

I can only imagine Sam is left standing in her office, as utterly perplexed as I am.

"Dad, what's going on?" I ask, almost running and tripping over my feet to catch up. He doesn't answer me though, and only speaks again when we're on the road, going at least 20 over the speed limit.

"Linds just texted me to get home, it's an emergency," he explains, though that really doesn't explain anything. Was she going into, like, super early labour? Was the house on fire? Were we being robbed?

"What kind of—"

"I don't know, Evelyn!" he snaps.

Flashes of my reoccurring nightmare every time I close my eyes cause me to hold my breath around every curve. They cause my heart to skip a beat every time I see an oncoming car. I could tell him to slow down, at least a little, but I think it best to keep my mouth shut. I content myself by gripping my seat until my knuckles turn white.

When finally we slow down, my heart doesn't just skip a beat.

It just about stops completely.

A cop car is parked outside the house.