All I Ever Knew Was Your Name [Nick Robinson]

SEVENTEEN

for the first time by the script

Nick was right.

Life is not fucking fair.

As I sit in my bedroom, sulking pathetically for the fourth night in a row, I can't help but hear those words repeat in my head over and over again. It has been days since we spoke, since we saw each other, since we touched. But those words were so fresh in my mind. So harsh. So cold. So not Nick.

In the short time I've known him, I've never heard him sound so angry. I didn't know he could possibly be angry considering he's easily one of the nicest people I know.

I understand, though. His situation is tough. I can't possibly imagine going through something so devastating and traumatizing. But he is, and he's doing it alone.

Calvin is next to me on my bed as I stare blankly at the ceiling. The sun is starting to set— I can tell from the orange hue in my room.

It's so quiet. No television, no phone, no radio. The silence is deafening, but I'm so tangled in my thoughts that I don't care to fix it.

Should I tell someone about Nick? Should I try talking to him first? Should I get him help? Should I confront his dad? Should I do anything?

My head aches from the endless twirling of questions. Each thought has a completely different outcome. All in all, I'm at a loss. There is no easy decision.

Nothing is easy.

My eyes close quickly that night. I don't have much left to stay awake for, and that's when I know Nick's short lived presence was too good to be true.

It's after ten o'clock that night when I'm awoken by the ringing of my phone. I click on the lamp beside my bed. Without even looking at the contact, I answer. I mean, it's fairly clear who I want the caller to be, but I can't be so sure.

"Hello?"

"Mary!"

It's Tyra.

I almost want to sigh, but I'm afraid she'll hear it. It's nothing against her, I just— well, you know.

"Hey, Tyra. What's going on?" I ask, rubbing my forehead.

"Well, I'm at this party," she begins. It explains why her voice is slightly muffled and hard to understand. I can make out her words, but they're not very clear. "Matt Schilling's. Again. Go figure, right?"

I laugh softly. "I'm so shocked he's having a party. It's so unlike him," my voice drips with sarcasm.

"Good one," she snorts. I can tell by her tone of voice that she's sober for now, but I'm not sure how long it'll last.

"Do you need a ride home or something? I can—"

"Oh! God, no, Mary! That's not why I'm calling you! Remember that guy? Your neighbor?" she asks.

I swallow hard, nerves immediacy flooding my entire body. I didn't even hear his name, and I'm already panicking. Anything could be wrong, and I'm almost too afraid to know.

"Yes, I remember my neighbor," I attempt to joke, and I'm not sure how well it works. Being on the phone instead of in person has to play in my favor.

"He's here!" she cheers.

"What?" I nearly gasp.

Nick? At Schilling's house? What on earth could he be doing there? He hates Matt, let alone parties hosted by anyone in our school!