On Wednesday, I arrived back at school right on time for Gerard to pick me up. I weaved my way through the torrent of people leaving the school, and found him waiting in the parking lot as always. What's different about today versus yesterday and Monday, though, is that I'm not coming back from The Box. I didn't go there today, I didn't even see Krash, Zero, or Raven, and explored a bit instead.

I ended up down some off road I'd never been to before which lead me to a bridge. It looked old and unused. There was absolutely no traffic down here, so I just sat and hung my legs off the bridge between the safety rails. The area offered me no protection from the mid-December cold and wind that began to pick up.

I took my bag off my back and fumbled with the zipper, my fingers numb, and pulled out my notebook and a pencil. And there I sat, writing and reading and waiting for the day to go by.

"Hey Evie, how was school?" Gee asks me as I get in the car.

I shrug and shut the car door, then buckle up. "It was fine."

He, as far as I can tell, has no reason to be suspicious of me, but I can't help but feel paranoid that maybe my nose is a little too red from being outside in the cold all day, or that my posture isn't quite good enough despite my best efforts at keeping myself upright, which is difficult because I'm exhausted. Always exhausted. But the doubt, or disbelief, or even the "I call bullshit" I was expecting never comes.

As we pull out of the school parking lot he says, "That's good." And I nod, holding in a sigh of relief, as he goes on. "Frank's at home waiting for us."

"Okay, cool."

"You're shaking, Eve. Are you cold?" he asks, taking his eyes off the road for only a second to glance at me.

"Yeah, just a bit." I'm more than cold, though: I'm freezing. So he turns the heat up, but it doesn't do much good because we arrive home soon afterward. When we've stopped, I get out of the car and make my way into the house, going straight to the living room. Usually I go directly up to my room, but if Frank is here, I guess it won't hurt to hold it off long enough to say hi.

"Evie!" he yells when I walk in, but a look of concern crosses his face when he sees me, so fleeting I might've imagined it. He seems to catch himself, though and his expression quickly changes to a grin, and I step forward for a hug I could've stayed wrapped up in for hours.

But what was that look all about? Did I really imagine it? No, I swear, I saw his face drop, his eyebrows knit together, even just for a split second.

You've probably gained about ten pounds since the last time he saw you.

No. There's no way.

Remember that apple yesterday afternoon?

Stop it.

But you remember it, don't you Evelyn? I bet you regret it now.

Shut up.

Add apples to the list of foods you can't eat anymore.

But I like app—

"Evelyn?" Franks taps my shoulder lightly, pulling me back to reality.

"Huh?" I look up at him and see that that look of concern is unmistakably on his face now. "Sorry, just spaced out."

"That's okay, I was just saying you could take your stuff up to your room and then we could watch this." He holds up a plastic case for me to see. It's a movie: Die Hard.

"You don't want to watch on Friday with the others?" I ask.

He looks down sheepishly. "I've made them watch it too many times. But I bet you've never seen it, right?" He eyes me hopefully.

"Nope." I sigh. "Did you really need to ask?"

He shakes his head, but gives me a smile as he says, "But, hey, I like showing you stuff."

"Good, cause there's still a lot left to show me."

I trudge up the stairs to my room and dump my bag in the corner where it always goes. My life might be a mess, but one thing's for sure: My room is not. Everything is always in its right place. My steadily growing book collection is organized alphabetically on my shelf, along with my CDs and records. I always make my bed, spending at least a few minutes smoothing out every wrinkle. My closet is organized by colour.

But when I open my closet now, intending to grab a warm hoodie, I don't see the perfectly placed array of colours that I was expecting. Immediately, I spin on my heel and go back downstairs.

"You ready to watch—" Frank starts, but I cut him off, turning on Gerard.

"Did you go in my closet?"

"Did I go in— what?"

"Did you go in my closet?" I demand again, a bit more slowly this time.

"I did some laundry and put some clothes away for you, yeah."

"Well, you shouldn't have done that."

"What are you going on about, Evelyn?"

"You ruined my closet! I had everything perfectly organized— like, by colour and everything— and you messed it up!" I'm not yelling, but I'm definitely raising my voice a bit more than usual. I see Frank raise his eyebrows out of the corner of my eye, but I don't care, the anger pulsing through my veins feeling completely rational in this moment. Tears are beginning to blur my vision which is only making me angrier. I hate it that I cry when I'm angry.

Gee keeps his voice calm, though. "I'm sorry Eve, I was just trying to help. I didn't know it would be such a big deal."

"Well it is!" I take a shaky breath and the tears that were threatening to spill finally run down my face.

"Hey, Eve, I'll help you fix it! It's not the end of the world," he says. When he pulls me into a hug I only cry harder. "Okay, this isn't just about a closet. What's going on, Evie?"

He's right, isn't he? It's not just about the closet. My emotions have been running on high. But I thought I was numb. Nothing makes sense anymore and I want it all to stop. It's the incessant nagging in my brain, and need to ignore the hunger constantly gnawing at my insides, painfully pushing away images of what Rosa's little body must've looked like after the crash... Why can't it all stop, just for a little while?

If I was a character in a book, the author would clearly just want me to suffer.

"I don't know, Gee." I cry into his chest.

That's when I hear Frank whisper, "Maybe she's on her—"

"Finish that sentence and I throw a shoe at you." I rip myself from the hug and round on him. I hear Gerard snort from behind me and I have trouble keeping a smile from creeping onto my own face.

"Okay, okay, no need to throw shoes," Frank says, raising his hands in defence.

I wipe the remaining tears from my face. "I'm just gonna go up and fix my closet, I guess," I say, back to my quiet and awkward self, and both guys nod, probably afraid that I'd break down in tears again if they dared protest.

Every time I see her, Evelyn looks less and less like herself. This time it was almost shocking. Her face was pale— or, paler than normal— and the bags under her eyes were prominent. Her hair looked unkept, even though she usually doesn't leave the house without it being as smooth as possible. Still, I put a smile on my face when I greet her and hug her tightly, almost afraid of breaking her.

When she goes upstairs to bring her backpack to her room, I turn to Gerard. "How's she doing? Is she doing okay?"

"I mean," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, "she's as okay as she can be with... everything."

"Yeah." The conversation ended there, but my worry only got worse when Eve came barreling down the stairs, all worked up about the way Gee had put her clothes away. Then she started crying, which she doesn't do often (in front of people, that is).

I know Gee has been worrying about her constantly for a while now, and I wasn't quite sure why. I'm not a parent. I didn't get it. But now, I just might see where he's coming from.

"Should I go up and talk to her?" I ask, but I don't wait for an answer.