I've been living with Laura Barry for about a week now, and I say with a heavy heart that she's not a cruel woman. She hasn't solidified the blurry image of a cold hearted witch I've hung onto since childhood like the one in my memories and flashbacks.

She's not careless and neglectful. Quite the opposite. She found out about my grades dropping and, once she'd composed herself on my first night here after she'd run out of my room in tears and figured out how to muster authority, she assured me that there'd be no more of that. She told me she knew I was a smart kid and that I could be in the top of my classes if only I applied myself.

I wanted to remind her that the only reason my grades dropped in the first place (this time) was because of the mental abuse this whole custody battle had put me through, but I didn't. I realized that talking back would only disprove the point I was trying to make: that I'm mature and independent and that I don't need her.

She also laid down some ground rules: a curfew of 11PM, no drinking, smoking, or doing drugs, and if a boy came over I'd have to keep my bedroom door open.

I suppressed my smirk and she still has no idea about Emerald.

She said that if I failed another test, I'd get my phone taken away.

"And that's not an empty threat," she'd said with severity in her voice that made my heart rate accelerate even though I knew she wouldn't lay a finger on me. And then she took my phone away to prove her point, promising to give it back in one week. An unfair and unnecessary way of "teaching me a lesson."

I kept my cool, but I was yelling profanities at her in my head, because I hadn't even gotten to text Gerard or Emerald yet. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I refuse to cry as long as I'm in this house. If anything, I'm being the cold hearted one, but I refuse to conform to what she wants me to be. She wants me to be open with her, she wants me to "make myself at home" knowing full-well that this old two-story house, nestled between two much nicer houses, is not and will never be my home.

When I make my way downstairs, my knees begin shaking more with every step that takes me closer to Laura. The same thing happens every time I try and approach her. My hands were shaking when I asked where the silverware drawer was. I wonder when this fear will end, if ever?

"Hey, Laura?" I ask, sticking my hands the pockets of Gerard's hoodie I took. It smells like home, it's comforting, and I've been living in it as much as possible. She looks up at me blankly from the book she's reading while sitting on the couch. "You— uh— you said I could have my phone back after a week and, well, it's been a week. And if I'm starting school tomorrow I'm gonna need it with me."

A lightbulb seems to go off in her head at the mention of my phone, and she perks up. "Oh, of course! Has it really been a week already?" she asks conversationally.

I take it as a rhetorical question and follow her silently upstairs to her room where she's been keeping my phone. I've only ever caught glimpses of the inside of the room when walking by. The door is usually shut and this is the "off limits" room in the house.

"Wait here," she says before slipping inside the room.

"Well, I have nowhere else to go," I mumble.

I busy myself by looking at the blank walls in the hallway and try and picture them covered in pictures Gerard and Lindsey and I, or the band and I, or Emerald and I. That's what my house will look live when I have my own place. And it will also have a Beauty and the Beast style library, which is a dream I've had for a long time and still haven't given up on.

Emerald would love that too, I know. We could live in a nice house together, maybe near a lake, and it'd be peaceful. The library would have shelves upon shelves of books we wouldn't even have time to finish reading, a copy of my own novel I hope to write one day on display.

"Here, Evelyn," Laura says, handing me my phone. She shuts her bedroom door again behind her. "Now, I want to see your grades raising, okay? And you don't have to strive for an A in every class, but Bs would be nice to see, too."

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "Why do you even care about my grades so much?"

Laura falls silent and chews her bottom lip for a second, thinking about how to answer my question. "I just don't want you to make any of the mistakes I made," she decides finally.

I don't have a comeback to that, so I just nod. "Oh, well, thanks for my phone," I say, then go back to my room.

When I get there and hop onto my bed, laying on my stomach, I'm relieved to see that my phone still has battery left so I can immediately text Gerard. I've been anxiously waiting for the moment I'd get to talk to him all week, because we don't have a landline I could call from and I wasn't about to break down and ask Laura if I could use her phone.

Call me petty or stubborn, but it's all part of the image of myself I'm playing off to her.

I don't know what to say to him after not having spoken for a week, so I simply text: Hey dad

He must've already had his phone in his hand because immediately, he replies: Evie, are you okay?? Why haven't I heard from you in a week?? I miss you so much!

Evelyn: I'm sorry!! Laura took my phone away for a week

Instead of texting me back, my phone starts ringing. When I pick up, Gerard's voice is on the edge of deafening and I need to hold my phone away from my ear.

"Why the fuck would she take your phone away from you!? You can't have already gotten in trouble! Are you okay, Eve? Is she treating you alright? I fucking swear, if—"

"Dad!" I cut off his angry and worried ranting. "I'm fine, don't worry about it. I'm just glad to finally be talking to you now."

"You're sure you're okay, Evie?"

"Yeah, Dad. Laura's... she's not so bad. Don't get me wrong, I still hate her, but she's not so bad."

"How are you holding up, Darling? Have you, uh, did you keep your promise?"

My heart sinks. I was really hoping he wasn't going to go there. "I... I couldn't text you for help, Dad. Everything was just hitting me and I didn't know what to do so I did what I always do and—"

"Calm down, Evie. I couldn't expect you not to slip up first try, so just— you have your phone now so text me next time, okay?"

"Okay."

I fall silent, the only sound each other's breathing, the stinging on my wrists and forearms suddenly at the forefront of my mind. I won't slip up again. I can't keep disappointing Gerard even if he's in a complete other state and lying would technically be easy.

"Eve?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"I don't want to keep disappointing you."

"You're not disappointing me, Evie. All I can ask is that you try your best and I know that you really are. It's just a really hard time right now— for all of us— but none of it is worth hurting yourself over. It's gonna get easier, I promise."

"But you, you got clean and sober in, what? 17 days? This is nothing in comparison, but I feel like I'm gonna be stuck struggling with this stupid thing for forever and you're gonna have to keep telling me the same things over and over again, but it's not gonna make a difference 'cause I'm weak and I'm fucked up and—"

Gerard cuts me off and the tone of his voice tells me I better shut up and listen, so I hold my tongue even though I could go on and spew self deprecating bullshit for hours. "You're none of those things. You are the strongest kid I've ever met. And, yeah, maybe I will keep telling you that you're beautiful and that you don't deserve to be hurt and that it'll get easier. I'll say it a million times if I have to if you eventually start to believe it. I got through shit because I had the best support system I could've ever had, and you have support too."

"But I don't. I'm alone here. And being able to call you isn't the same thing because sometimes... sometimes I just really need a hug." I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Me too," I hear him say under his breath. "Look, Eve, I didn't know how to bring this up but I'm just gonna have to do it..." He takes a deep breath. "You forgot to empty out the drawer you were hiding your meds in."

"Oh—" Before I say fuck out loud, I cover my mouth.

"I called your therapist and your social worker and they're finding you a new therapist right away. It was working, Eve. You were doing so well. I'm just trying to help you, I just want you back at that point so you can be h—"

"Oh my god, don't you understand I'm never gonna be happy as long as I'm living here? No amount of pills or therapy sessions are gonna change that," I say, a lot more angrily than I intended, but the pent up anger of having my phone taken away, of having all my secrets revealed, of starting at a new school tomorrow, and of being in the fucking state of Rhode Island of all places in the world, is really getting to me. "I think I'm gonna go now, I'm starting school tomorrow and I need sleep. Goodnight, Dad."

I hang up the call just as I hear him say, "Don't go yet, it's not even 7PM."

I'm angry at myself, mostly. I'd like to punish myself, but I'm not completely sure why. I ball the ends of the hoodie sleeves in my fists and grit my teeth instead, wishing that Laura would stop humming while she cleaned downstairs, wishing that everything in this house wasn't so perfect and pristine, a juxtaposition to the off-putting air I got from the outside.

I know what I need to distract myself.

"Hello?" Emerald's voice says from the other end of the line.

"Hi Em," I say, a small smile spreading on my face at the sound despite everything that just happened and the irritation picking at me.

"Evie!" she gasps. The excitement is clear in her voice, and if I close my eyes I can picture the twinkling in her's. "How are you? Why haven't you called until now? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Laura took my phone away, but it's nothing. Are you okay?"

She goes silent for a moment and my anger immediately dissipates, concern taking its place. "I'm okay, I just really miss you."

"I really miss you too, Em. Did— did you get my letter?"

"Yeah, I got it, but... I didn't read it yet. It's been sitting on my desk since Gerard gave it to me. I've been scared to open it because I knew it would make me cry and I've been crying enough since you left..."

I wish I could hug her. I wish I could kiss her. I wish I could take all her pain away. "I'll be back," I say confidently. "I promise I'll be back and when I am I'm never gonna let you go."

"I'm gonna cry again, let's change the subject." Em says. I think I hear her sniff. "How's your room? Have you finished unpacking?"

"My room's alright. The bed is pretty comfortable, the walls are just white and I put my posters up. I have two boxes left and they're just sitting in the corner of the room."

"What are they? Clothes you don't feel like folding or hanging up?"

"Memory boxes."

"What?"

"Well, one box is pretty much all the stuff you've ever given me, like the bear with the green ribbon (I named him, Jacques, by the way), and my heart necklace with the tiny picture of us is in there somewhere, and more pictures of us and stuff. The other one has stuff the guys have given me, records, pictures, and my Black Parade jacket."

"Oh my gosh, I forgot you had that jacket!"

"Yeah, me too, until I found it in the back of my closet when I was packing."

"I wish I had one of those," she mumbles.

I giggle. "You can wear it all you want when I come back."

"What if I come to you first? I wasn't joking when I said I'd, like, steal a car to come see you."

"I'm pretty sure you didn't say steal a car."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"I promise you won't have to do that." I change the subject before she can ask me exactly what I mean by that, but she'd know if she'd read my letter. I can't blame her, though. I've essentially done the same thing with stalling on unpacking those last two boxes. "I'm starting at my new school tomorrow.

"School's been so boring without you."

"Make some friends." I suggest. "Everyone likes you."

"As if you're going to go out of your way to make friends tomorrow."

"Good point."

"Maybe starting fresh will be good for you, you know? No one there has any expectations of you, the only pressure have is gonna come from yourself."

"And Laura," I add. "She wants me to keep my grades up. But I haven't exactly been pressuring myself to do that, have I?"

"I guess not," Em mutters. I know what she's thinking, though. You used to. Em has always been at the top of our grade, but there was a time when it was me against Charlotte constantly fighting for second place. Charlotte with her fluent French against my out-of-practice one, and her tendency to be articulate and know just what to say when teachers called on her, against the way I stuttered and fumbled for answers to questions I hadn't had enough time to process.

But at my new school, I realize, there'll be no Charlotte to fight against. If I just apply myself like people are encouraging me to do, I might be able to somewhat reclaim the whole "smart kid" thing I once had going on. And, furthermore, no one here will know I was ever adopted. It's like that whole process, plus the foster homes, have been erased from my past. I think I'm going to create a whole new image for myself tomorrow. As long as I'm here, I'm not Evelyn Way. I'm Evelyn Barry.

I talk to Emerald for a little while longer, then text Mikey, Frank, Ray, and Lindsey, and assure them I'm alive and as well as I can be. And when I go to sleep, I'm not tossing and turning for hours, I'm not afraid of having nightmares, and I'm not dreading school as much as I was before.

• • •

hey friends, happy trans day of visibility!