I spent the weekend wrapped up in a blanket, hidden away in my room trying to catch up on schoolwork. Turns out exams are starting at my school just before Christmas break and I have no idea what I'm doing. I should be able to pass English at least, because that's always been an easy class for me. The others, not so much.

I don't know how much catching up I really did, though, because my brain would simply not cooperate. For example, I read a single paragraph out of my History text book about three times without taking in any information. I eventually gave up and just moved on to the next one without having learned a thing.

That happened more than once.

How am I even meant to remember all this stuff? The names of all the U.S presidents? That's useless information, if you ask me.

Then there's math class, my personal Hell. My teacher even approached me once to let me know I was failing the class and that I'd need to 'step it up' or he'd be forced to call my parents. What good would that do?

"Yes, hello, Mr. Way, I was just calling to inform you that your daughter is failing her math class."

What would Gerard even say? Probably something like, "You think I can do something about that? I'm just some guy in a fuckin' band. You're the teacher here!"

• • •

In a blink, I'm already halfway through the week. I've actually been trying to focus in class, because as much as I'd like to think I'm carefree, I actually care a lot. I worry about my future a lot. My attempts haven't been very successful, though, as my mind often drifts to irrelevant things like food, exercise, and sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes I manage to stare blankly during an entire class, only snapping out of it when the bell rings loudly above me.

Thanks, brain.

After another lunch spent in the library on this fine Wednesday afternoon, I drag my feet to the gym for the only class I despise more than math.

It's when we're forced to play sports that I seriously consider hiding in the locker room for the entire period, which I've done on more than one occasion. I just get so self conscious. Realistically, I know everyone isn't staring at me while I'm standing dumbly as defence in a soccer game, or whatever, but I can't help but feel like everyone is secretly making fun of me.

I can hear them in my mind laughing and saying things like, "Look at her, she doesn't even know how to stand properly!"

"What's a fat-ass like that doing trying to play soccer?"

"I bet she'll trip if she ever gets near the ball."

Stupid, stuff, I know. But it's the truth, isn't it? That's what my mind likes to tell me, anyway.

"Alright class!" The gym teacher, Ms. Walker, blows the whistle between her teeth, then lets it drop. I watch as it dangles by a lanyard. "Quick warm up for y'all today. Five laps around the gym."

People groan in protest, but we all start running anyway. I can do running, this should be easy. I get enough practice pacing laps around my room every day.

Things don't go as planned.

After the first lap, I'm already panting.

After the second one, my lungs and muscles are aching.

I start feeling dizzy around the third lap, so I stop to catch my breath, much to the protest of my mind who's only encouraging me to ignore the pain and go faster.

Did I mention that the only reason I ever come close to enjoying running is because it brings delight to the bitch in my head? You know, the one who dictates what I eat, when I eat, and how much I eat? Not that I don't agree with every thought, but I'm also sick of the rules, sick of the rigidity, and generally sick of the anxiety attached to it all.

I move toward the wall, my legs feeling like Jell-o, all the while feeling very lightheaded and hoping I won't be noticed by Ms. Walker who loves to sound her whistle at the sight of slackers. I don't even have a chance to catch my breath, or even lean against the wall, before I feel my knees give out. My vision goes fuzzy first and complete darkness soon follows.

The next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes to everyone in my gym class standing around me, whispering amongst themselves. I'm laying on the floor uncomfortably, a dull ache in my head. The bright lights in the gym only make it worse.

"Everyone take a step back!" I hear the teacher's voice ring out. She crouches next to me. "You okay, Way?"

"I think so," I say quietly, sitting up very slowly.

She turns to the rest of the class, "Don't do anything stupid, I'll be back." She takes me by the arm, helping me up, and drags me to the nurse's office despite my protests.

Once there, she helps me onto the all too familiar cot, and explains to the nurse, Ms. Lee, what happened. Then, she rushes back to the gym.

Ms. Lee hands me a bottle of cold water with a sympathetic look. She might be the only person in this school I can stand to be around other than the librarian. "How are you feeling?"

"Head hurts a bit," I mumble.

"You might've hit your head on the way down," she says. "Are you seeing double? Nauseous at all?"

I shake my head lightly, cracking open the bottle of water. "No. I'm fine," I say before taking a sip.

"Has this happened before?"

"No."

"Were you dehydrated beforehand or anything?"

"I don't think so."

She thinks for a few seconds before speaking up again, mostly thinking out loud. "I don't want to send you back to class, especially not back to the gym. People don't just pass out like that... Look at you, you're still shaking."

I look down at my hands and see that they are, indeed, trembling. How I've managed not to spill this water on myself is a mystery.

"Wait here, alright? I'll go call your dad."

"No, don't!" I say, much too quickly. Composing myself, I add, "I mean, he's probably busy."

"I can't keep you here all day, Hun."

"Then don't, Ms. Lee. I'm fine now, I'll go back to class."

She shakes her head, "I'm not so sure about that. You should really get some rest. I'm going to call him, it'll be alright."

I realize I have no chance of winning this argument, so I just sigh in defeat and let her go to the phone. At least I know she takes her job seriously. Or, maybe, she just wants me to go home so she doesn't have to deal with me any longer.

It's probably that.

I don't know if I'm still trembling because of the shock that was put on my body when I hit the floor, or if I'm just nervous for Gerard to get here. He's gonna want to know what happened, obviously. And I know what happened— I haven't eaten in about eighteen hours— which means I'm going to have to lie to him. Again.

Less than twenty minutes later, I'm lifting my head from where I'd buried it in the paper thin pillow on this stupid cot when I hear someone say, "Eve?"

I'm relieved when I meet Ray's eyes instead of Gerard's like I was expecting.

"Hello there," I say casually, sitting up.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine. I just fainted in gym."

His eyes widen before he says, "Come on, I'm taking you home."

As we're getting in his car after he's signed me out— I had to explain to the secretary that "Yes, I know this man, he's my... uncle."— I ask, "Where's Gerard?"

"Home. He got all stressed out when the school called, I was there, so I offered to pick you up instead."

"Why would he get all stressed?"

"He worries about you, Eve," he puts simply.

"Oh."

Ray doesn't ask any questions about why I actually fainted, for which I'm glad. He's the only one I haven't directly lied to yet.

When we get home, I realize what he said was true: "He worries about you." We find Gerard pacing back and forth in the kitchen and when he sees me walk in, he basically tackles me in a hug.

"Eve, what happened? Did that girl get to you again? I fuckin' swear, I'll knock her out."

"Relax, I passed out in gym class, that's all."

He takes me by the shoulders, "That's all? Evelyn, how the hell... did you have enough water? Did you eat?"

No. "Not really, I misplaced my lunch money so I didn't get to. And- and then gym was right after lunchtime, so..." I trail off, not knowing how to add to that.

"Call me if that happens again, okay? Now, let me make you something."

I don't say a thing because I know there's nothing I can say that will make him not feed me. My body is screaming for nutrients anyway, but my mind is screaming the opposite. Louder.