Flipped

Chapter 20- The Colors of Envy and Honesty

^^^The song that Dan plays

*******************************

Sam

The next morning, something new happens. Something incredible. Something that has probably never happened on any school day in the entirety of my regrettable existence.

I wake up before my sister.

Maybe it's the nightmares, or the fear and anxiety about what my parents are going to say when they see my new look, or maybe it's just the frigid air creeping into our room from under the window. Whatever the cause, something makes my eyes fly open at the grand hour of five in the morning, with the world outside still pitch black and Rosie still sleeping soundly in her bed across the room.

Immediately I shiver. Damn, it's cold. I pull my blankets up tighter around my body, closing my eyes in a futile attempt to fall back asleep. After tossing and turning for about ten minutes, I give up with a sigh. Pulling my phone from its charger next to my bed, I check the weather.

Fuck, It's 25 degrees outside. No wonder I'm freezing my balls off in here. Dad has this stupid habit of never turning on the heater in the winter, claiming that it's too expensive."You have blankets. You'll be fine," he says.

"Fucking cheapskate," I mutter under my breath as I get out bed. Even though every fiber of my being wants to stay warm and safe under my covers, I know that if I don't get up now it's likely that I never will.

In the bathroom, I wash my face before examining my new, much shorter bedhead. I have a bad cowlick in the back and the shorter chunks are all sticking up at odd angles, but it still makes me smile. I would take this fucking mess over my old hair any day.

I douse my head under the faucet, drenching my hair until it lies flat on my head, then begin to comb it in different directions to decide what looks best.

I try it combed back first, but immediately cringe at the result when I turn out looking like a brunet Draco Malfoy. I ruffle my hair back up, then comb it so my bangs hang forward. Ugh, that looks terrible too. Maybe if my bangs were more evenly cut it would look better, but unfortunately that isn't the case.

Sighing, I scrap that style and change it out for one with my hair combed to the right side, giving me slightly better-looking bangs that hang down over my eye. I don't love this one either, but decide that it's the best I can probably do right now.

After sort-of fixing my hair, I return to my room to get dressed. Rose is still asleep, her soft breathing the only sound that disrupts the quiet of the hour.

It's too quiet, I decide, shutting the door as I pull up some music on my phone. I decide on the gentle, comforting sound of Bon Iver, and play it on low so as not to wake my sister.

After sliding into my normal jeans and combat boots, I hesitate before selecting a shirt to wear over my stupid fucking sports bra. As I stare at my selection of unisex band tees, my eyes wander over to the dresser drawer where I know my salvation hides-- a painful, yet much preferable alternative to what I'm currently wearing. But should I....?

Oh, fuck it, I think to myself, pulling off the sports' bra. If Rosie can wear a bra to school, then I can go to school without one.

Unfortunately, it is when I am physically wrapping the ace bandage around my chest that Rose stirs.

"Sam?" she says in a sleepy voice, causing me to freeze. "How are you already awake? And....what the hell are you doing?"

I sigh. "What does it look like, Rosie?"

"It looks like something dangerous," says Rose without hesitation, squinting at me. "And I thought you didn't want to come out yet?"

"We're not. But if you can wear a bra without coming out, can't I bind?"

"Not like that." Rose gets out of bed, approaching me gently. "Sam....the chest thing can wait. I won't wear a bra to school again, okay? I just wanted to try it once. But you can't constrict your chest like that for seven hours. You'll break a rib for sure."

I heave a frustrated sigh, but don't argue with her. I switch out my ace bandage for the bra I just took off, cringing as I do so. "It's not fair," I mutter. "Where the hell am I ever going to get an actual binder?"

Rose grimaces apologetically. "I really don't know. I'm sorry."

I just shake my head, buttoning up a red-and-black plaid flannel over a simple tank top. "Forget it. So....what about you? Are you doing your full-on makeup routine today?"

Biting her lip slightly, Rose shakes her head. "Probably not, the more I think about it. It's bad enough that I wore a bra and now you've cut your hair. Baby steps, you know?"

"Right. Baby steps." I mutter, messing with my chopped hair in the mirror across the room. Seems more to me like we've been taking giant fucking leaps. But, you know, that's just my opinion.

Despite Rose deciding to go without makeup today, she still takes twice as long as me to get ready. After washing her face and using tweezers on it for a good ten or twenty minutes, she spends about ten choosing an outfit.

"Okay, so I won't wear a bra today," she mutters. "But I still think I should go with a V-neck. Ooh, but I have this pink t-shirt. Should I wear my pink shirt, Sam?"

"I really don't care, Rosie," I mutter, without looking up from the game of Candy Crush I've been engaged with for the last thirty minutes.

She sighs. "I'll just wear my blue-- wait....no."

"Oh my god, what does it even matter? You never take off your hoodie at school anyway," I point out.

Rose ignores my comment, and continues being indecisive until she finally settles on a plain white V-neck and, to my surprise, a black-and-orange jacket with the logo "TØP" on the front, that I've never seen her wear before.

"Hey, where did you get that?" I ask her.

"What? Oh, this?" She looks down, as if just noticing the jacket is new. "Um....I kind of borrowed it from Rose Parker one day and she, uh....she never asked for it back."

I open my mouth to respond with some kind of sarcastic comment, then close it again. I'm actually not sure what to say, she's been so sensitive to the subject of Rose Parker lately. I'm surprised she even mentioned her.

I decide to say nothing about it. "Come on." I grab my backpack, motioning for her to follow me out the door. "Let's get out of here."

"Now?" Rose looks at the clock, which reads 6:45, and back to me. "But it's so early."

I raise my eyebrows. "And? Do you wanna wait for Mom and Dad to wake up so we can face our doom now instead of after school?" And by we, of course, I mean me, since I'm sure our parents will be much too distracted by my choppy haircut to notice a couple of bobby pins in Rose's.

Rose grimaces as she considers this. "You're right. Better get out of here while we can."

I nod, and am about to flick off the light on the way out of our room when I'm stopped by a sharp, "Wait!"

I pause, turning around to find Rose examine her reflection in the mirror across the room. "....Should I put on some foundation at least?"

I sigh. "I don't care, Rose. Just do what you have to do."

She hesitates, spending a moment running a hand over some spots on her face. "Maybe just some concealer for this acne. But if I'm gonna do concealer, I'll pretty much have to do powder foundation at least--"

"Rosie, look at me."

She does, and I grab her by both shoulders, making sure I look straight into her eyes and enunciate each syllable when I speak. "I. Don't. Care. Do whatever you want, but for the love of god, stop talking about it."

"Okay, okay. Jeez," says Rose defensively, putting down her backpack as she returns to the mirror. "This'll only take a minute."

Heaving another long, exaggerated sigh, I reopen Candy Crush on my phone in preparation for another long wait.

-----

Eventually we do make it to school, Rose having settled on a single layer of powder foundation that gives her skin a glowing, feminine look. She debated wearing mascara for a few minutes before I finally dragged her ass away from her makeup and out the door. Luckily, we were still early enough to miss our parents.

During our walk, I shoot Dan a quick text: Hey, just letting you know that Rose and I left for school early. Come join us and chill. I have a surprise for you ;).

I send the exact same text to Cody (minus the wink face, of course). Both of their responses are almost immediate.

CODY: Cool. I'm already here, so see you in a few.

DAN: Oh shit, should I be scared?

I laugh at Dan's, responding back, Definitely.

We reach the front doors at 7:15, a whopping 45 minutes before the first bell rings. Luckily, this also means there are very few people here yet, so Rose and I are able to make it through the commons without having to deal with too many stares.

We find Cody in our usual spot, dressed in his usual nerdy outfit, gazing at his phone so he doesn't see us right away when we approach him.

Rose and I grin at each other. "Hey Cody," I say casually.

"Hey Sam, wha--" But the rest of his sentence vanishes from his mouth when he looks up and sees us both. "Oh my god. You...."

"Yep," I smirk, ruffling my hair.

He turns to Rose. "And you're wearing....."

She presses her lips together, which I just now noticed have the slightest hint of shimmery lip gloss. "Yep," she mimics me.

Cody blinks, stepping back as his gaze switches between me and Rose. "Holy shit, I need a moment."

I laugh. Meanwhile, Rose stares at him curiously. "Why are you here so early, anyway?"

"I'm always here early," Cody responds with ease, but I still notice a significant change in his demeanor.

"But why?" asks Rose.

He shrugs. "I'm a nerd. I like school. How much of an explanation do you want?"

"Yeah but, do you you walk? Or do your parents drive you?"

Cody raises an eyebrow. "What is this, an interrogation? Do you want my address and social security number too?"

Rose backs off, looking offended. "Hey, I was just asking."

I remain silent during the exchange, searching for a hidden emotion under Cody's too-blank expression. I'm not sure exactly how, but I can tell that something is up. And I would bet money that it has to do with his little sister.

My thoughts are interrupted, however, by the astonished voice of my boyfriend sounding from behind me. "Sam? Holy fuck, is that you?"

I turn around, my smirk back into place. "Hi Dan."

"What the shit did you do to your hair?" His pale face holds nothing back, conveying shock, amusement, and confusion all at once.

"What does it look like, dumbass? I cut it all off."

"With garden sheers?" He chuckles, messing with some of the choppier pieces on the sides.

"Hey, I did that part," Rose remarks. "And I take offense to that."

Dan turns to my sister, getting a clear look at her for the first time, and does a double take. "And you....are you fucking wearing makeup?"

"A little bit," says Rose, grinning mischievously.

"Alright, so what's the deal here?" asks Cody. "Are you guys coming out, or....?"

"No," I say at the same time that Rose says, "Sort of."

I give her a stern look. "Remember what we agreed on."

"I got it, I got it," she assures me, adjusting the bobby pins that are holding her hair back. "No names, no pronouns, none of that."

"Wait, what?" Dan asks, looking confused. "So you guys aren't coming out?"

I shake my head. "We're gonna wait on that for a bit longer."

"Sam's not ready," Rose clarifies.

I punch her in the arm, even though she's completely right. I'm just embarrassed that she said it.

"Oh, so it's you who's not ready now," Dan says to me with a teasing smile. "Interesting. And here I thought you were some big man."

"Shut the fuck up," I grumble, crossing my arms like a child. This is exactly why I didn't want him to know.

"Oh, you know I'm just teasing," laughs Dan, ruffling my hair. "Seriously though....we have got to fix this mess on your head."

"Hey! I don't think it's that bad," I argue, reaching up to touch it self-consciously.

"Well no," Dan allows, even while grimacing. "But it could be a lot better. What do you say we take you to a barber after school and get it fixed?"

"Barbers cost money," I point out. "Which I have none of. And if you think I'm letting you pay for me to get my stupid hair fixed--"

But Dan cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Oh, relax. I know someone who will clean it up for free."

"Oh. Alright then. I guess I'm down."

"Good," says Dan, running his fingers through my hair again. "If we're lucky, you'll come out of there actually looking like a boy instead of a butch lesbian."

"Hey, fuck you!" I yell, actually low-key offended. "At least I'm not walking around looking like an emo garbage can." I shove his shoulder, forcing him to step back from me.

Dan laughs. "Call me whatever you want. At least I'm honest about who I am." He shoves me back. "Pussy-ass bitch."

"Whoa, chill out guys," Cody says, looking worried. He even looks ready to step in between us.

Rose, however, knows whats up and stops him with a hand on his chest. "It's okay," she reassures him with a smile. "This is just how they flirt."

"You're a fucking loser," I fire back at Dan, my smile as wide as his. "I can't believe I'm dating a literal pile of garbage."

"Yeah, you really should rethink your life choices," laughs Dan. "But hey, at least I have balls."

I gasp dramatically. "You take that back!"

Dan gets right up in my face, his lips inches from mine. "Never." I can almost taste the breath he releases with the whispered word, and it makes me shiver.

I giggle.

"HA!" yells Dan, pointing at me victoriously. "You broke character! I win!"

"Congratulations," I say, rolling my eyes. "Your coupon for free breadsticks at Pizza Hut will arrive by mail in four to six business days."

"Yesssss," Dan says, pumping his fist in the air.

Meanwhile, Cody is staring at us like we're circus freaks. "You guys....are so fucked up."

"We know," Dan and I say at the same time. We high-five epically.

Cody rolls his eyes, landing his gaze elsewhere, and suddenly he's captivated by something far away. "Uh-oh," he mutters.

"What?" I turn around and am greeted with the unwelcome sight of two people, a girl and a boy, marching towards us determinedly. (Well, the girl looks determined. The boy, on the other hand, looks more like he's being dragged).

"Oh god dammit," I mutter. I do not need this right now.

"Hey ya'll!" says the tiny girl in a cheery, deep-southern voice, tugging her much taller boyfriend behind her. "I'm glad I found you again. I dunno if you remember me. Alecia Kincaid, junior class president."

"Yeah, we remember," I grumble, glaring up at her boyfriend. He glares right back at me.

"Okay, wonderful. And this is my boyfriend, John--"

"We remember him, too," says Cody, suddenly standing right at my side.

"Well that's great!" She pauses, pressing her dark red lips together. "Um, I don't think I ever got ya'll's names though?"

We all share looks, as if silently communicating about whether or not we should entertain this girl.

Cody makes an executive decision. "I'm Cody," he says, stepping forward and holding out his hand. Alecia shakes it firmly, but then he extends it to John, who just stares at it. After being firmly pinched by Alecia, however, he gives Cody's hand a shake.

"Uh, I'm Sam," I say awkwardly.

"I think I introduced myself yesterday." says Dan, glaring up at John. "But since you don't look too bright, I'll give you a refresher. Dan Albright. 'Touch any of my friends, and I'll fucking maim you'. Remember that?"

"Say what, you bitch-ass--" starts John, but Alecia pinches him again.

"And I remember you!" says Alecia to Rose, sounding excited. "You're in my Baking class. George, right?"

Rose doesn't even try to hide her grimace. "Yeah."

"Wonderful, so we all know each other!" says Alecia, flashing a her perfect white teeth that stand out even brighter against her cocoa-brown skin. "Well, I'm sure ya'll remember the unfortunate incident that happened yesterday morning."

"You know, now that you mention it, I think it rings a bell," says Dan, his voice dripping sarcasm. He and John are still glaring at each other.

"Again, I am deeply sorry about that," says Alecia, looking down in exaggerated shame. "But I have someone else here who wants to apologize." She nudges her boyfriend.

John looks like he would rather be anywhere else right now. "Babe, don't make me do this--"

"John," she says through gritted teeth. "We talked about this. You were just awful to these poor freshmen yesterday, and you owe them an apology."

"B-but--did you see--I," John sputters, pointing at Rose in disbelief. "That fag is legit wearing makeup. Fucking makeup, Alee--"

"I don' care if that boy is wearin' a sash and fixin' to win Miss Teen Alabama," Alecia snaps, her accent getting thicker the madder she gets. "You will apologize to the freshmen, or imma smack you upside the head."

"Ugggggh," John groans loudly, tilting his head back in annoyance. "Fine." He looks at us, making sure to meet all of our eyes individually. "I'm sorry I was an asshole yesterday."

"There," says Alecia, her voice back to its normal level of sweetness. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" She looks at us, expectantly.

It occurs to me first that she might be expecting some sort of response. "Um. We accept your apology?" I say, sounding more unsure than I meant to.

Dan snorts. "Pfft, I don't."

"Ignore him," says Cody to John and Alecia. "His brain doesn't have the forgiveness function--"

"Hey!"

"We appreciate and accept your apology," Cody continues, directing his sentiment to John, who is avoiding his eyes.

"Thank you," Alecia responds for him. "And y'know, I just wanna say that I think ya'll are incredibly brave. Doing what you do every single day, not being scared of judgement or nothing. Ya'll have my utmost respect."

The four of us share looks again, these even more confused than the last. Is she seriously assuming that all four of us are gay just because we hang out together?

Cody is the first one to come to his senses and respond. "Um....thank you."

"And I just want all ya'll to know," she adds, pulling a handful of buttons out of her shoulder bag. "That as senior class president, I plan on making' this campus a safer place for homosexuals, and all other GLBT people."

I hear Rose snort behind me, most likely at Alecia's arrangement of the acronym. But honestly, I give her credit for at least saying all the right letters. She passes a button to each of us, and even Dan accepts his begrudgingly. Mine has the background of the infamous rainbow flag on it, emblazoned with the words, Vote ALECIA KINCAID for Senior Class President!

"Supporting gay rights," Dan mutters, examining his button. "A bit of a controversial platform for this school, isn't it?"

Alecia bites her lip. "A bit of a risk, I'll agree....but something I am passionate about. Besides, supporting gays is, like, totally in nowadays! It's about time our school catches up with the world, don't ya reckon?"

Before any of us can think of a response, the first bell rings.

"Aw shoot, I have to go. My first class is way down far from here. I'll see ya'll around though!" She says cheerfully. She stands on her tip toes to give her boyfriend a kiss goodbye, but John still has to lean down to meet her halfway. Then with one final wave she departs, leaving John behind to stand there awkwardly.

"So, do you always let your girlfriend boss you around like that, or was this just a one-time deal?" Cody asks the bully, with the slightest hint of a smirk.

John's half regretful, half embarrassed expression immediately shifts into a scowl. "Fuck you, faggot!"

"Uh oh, you better be quiet," Dan laughs. "Wouldn't want your gay-supporting girlfriend to hear you using the F word."

"I don't give a shit what Alecia says," John retaliates, using one hand to straighten his cap before balling both into fists. "She can support homos all she wants, and I'll back off if it makes her happy. But don't think you're anything but a bunch of disgusting--"

"Come on," I mutter to Rose, suddenly bored of this. "We should get to our classes."

"Yeah," says Rose quietly. I sense a definite undertone of self-consciousness, however, as she messes with the pins in her hair nervously. "Let's go."

"Bye Danny Boy," I tell my boyfriend, tugging lightly on his shoulder to recapture his attention for a split second.

"Hang on babe, I'm not finished roasting this jackass," says Dan without looking at me. Then, to John, he says, "So? You got anything else to say to us? Anymore elegant, original insults to toss our way?"

"Better not use sarcasm with this one," Cody warns Dan, his eyes still set firmly on John. "His tiny brain might explode from trying to process it."

"Ah, good point," says Dan.

Rose is long gone by now, but I'm simply too fascinated by the scene in front of me to walk away. It never ceases to amaze me that Dan and Cody, who normally are as far from friends as two can get, will stand proudly side-by-side when confronted with a homophobic bully.

John seems to have been especially infuriated by that last jab, as his dark eyes narrow and he cracks his knuckles threateningly. "I'm warning you. I may have backed off before for my girlfriend, but I'm still my own man. I can kick your ass!"

"You sure?" asks Dan, his eyebrows raised and his voice full of mocking doubt. "Because personally, I don't believe that someone so unconfident that he has to bully freshmen could even hold his own in an actual fight."

John snarls, and I can see that Dan just broke the last straw. "That's it. You wanna go, little bitch? We'll fucking go."

Well, now seems like a good time to step in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey guys, c'mon," I say, throwing myself between them. "We need to get to class. It's the second day back for Christ's sake."

At that point, Cody seems to have snapped out of it. His determined and furious expression falls as he blinks, looking away.

Dan, however, does not drop his vicious glare from John, who stares back down at him from his extra foot-and-a-half of height. "Sure," says Dan. "Name a time and a place. Unless you were bluffing, of course."

"Like hell I'd ever bluff about a fight!" yells John, looking both pissed and offended. "I'm from L.A., white boy. Back there, this is how we settled things."

"Hey, what do you know," Dan shoots back with a smirk. "We're from the same place. So we both know how it goes. After school on the football field?"

"Unless you pussy out," John agrees, smiling wide. "We'll see how the gay boy fights."

"I'm bi, thank you very much," Dan responds simply. "But either way, I'm still gonna knock your lights out."

"We'll see about that, faggot."

Before he can say anything else stupid, I grab my boyfriend by the collar of his leather jacket and drag him away. By now, the crowd filing out of the commons has thinned dramatically, and I know we both have less than a minute left to get to class, but I don't care. I drag Dan around the corner and slam him into the nearest wall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Daniel?"

"Hey, that guy was being a total douche!" Dan yells defensively. "I wasn't gonna just let him get away with it."

"Dan, that guy is a junior." I remind him, disbelief tainting my anger. "And way freaking taller than you. You really think you're going to prove something by getting your ass kicked by him?"

Now, Dan just looks offended. He puts a hand on his chest, scoffing. "You seriously think he's gonna win? You don't believe in me at all?"

"That's not the point, Dan!"

The bell rings, and teachers up and down the hall shut their classroom doors, but still we stand here glaring at each other.

"You really don't believe in me," Dan says, the hurt in his voice sounding only slightly fake. "Wow. Some supportive boyfriend you are."

I groan in exasperation. "My point is, you shouldn't be picking fights on your second day--"

"I'll bet you ten bucks I win."

"WHAT?!"

"Ten dollars," says Dan, holding out his hand for a shake. "That I win this fight. If I get beaten to a pulp, you can also laugh in my face and say that you told me so."

I sigh, but also can't help taking the bait. "Fine." I shake his hand. "But just for the record, I am totally against this."

"Sure. Whatever." He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now let's get to class before more trouble finds us."

As soon as Dan has run off, I let my irritated expression turn into a smirk. Why does that stupid kid have to be so fucking cute?

As I speed-walk to history, I form a quick text to my mother.

ME: Hey Mom. One of my classes just assigned a group project, so I'm gonna be home kind of late today....

------------

Rose

I'm thrilled to get away from the drama my tiny friend group was creating in the commons, and not just because I loathe conflict. I'm actually really pumped for the second day of art class, because this is the day our first projects for the semester are assigned.

When I reach the art room, I'm surprised to find none other than Lucas Santos sitting at the table in the front of the room that I was prepared to occupy alone for the rest of the year.

"Yo," he greets me with an awkward wave of his hand.

"Um....hey." I don't know how else to respond as I awkwardly take a seat across from him.

"Sorry, should I move?" He asks, grabbing his backpack from under his chair as he prepares to stand up.

"No! Oh, well I mean, if you want...."

"It's just that....you know--"

"Yeah."

"Yesterday, Miss Vaughn seemed to want us to sit together--"

"Yeah, I remember."

"And I mean, I was sitting alone anyway--"

"Dude, it's fine, chill." I laugh. Since I'm normally riddled with anxiety myself, it's not often that I'm the one telling someone else to chill. In this case, it seems especially funny.

Lucas also laughs, leaning back his chair on two legs as he flips aside his black hair that hangs over his eyes. His unzipped, burgundy hoodie falls open to reveal a vibrantly colored Pierce The Veil shirt. "Sorry. I can get a bit ramble-y sometimes. Also...."

"What?" I ask when he doesn't complete his trailed-off sentence.

Lucas snaps his fingers a few times, looking to be straining, then sighs. "Okay, I am literally the worst, but....I cannot for the life of me remember your name."

My expression at his words probably comes off as offended, but in reality I'm just pissed that I have to introduce myself with my stupid birth name again.

Luckily I'm saved, at least for the moment, by the ringing of the final bell. The gentle chatter in the room dies down as Miss Vaughn, who had been beaming at us from atop her own desk, legs crossed classily under her bright blue dress, hops down to her feet and officially starts the class.

"Good morning everyone," Miss Vaughn greets us in her usual smiling fashion. "You all ready for your first assignment of the semester?"

There are definite murmurs of excitement throughout the room, but as always, Lucas's reaction stands out. "I can hardly contain myself," he says in a perfect monotone triggering laughter.

"For this month's project," Miss Vaughn continues, obviously trying to contain her own laughter. "I have named the theme 'Up Close and Personal'. The assignment itself is simple: I want you to paint something from a very close angle. This will require extreme attention to detail, which might make it challenging, but I believe you all are more than capable. It can be anything you'd like, just as long as it's personal." Something seems to occur to her very suddenly as she adds, "Oh, and it has to be appropriate, of course. Not that I should even need to say that."

"Dammit," says Lucas, just loud enough for me to hear this time. "And here I was looking forward to painting an up-close and personal view of a vagina."

I physically cannot contain the sputtering laughter that comes out of my mouth, which unfortunately causes everyone to look at me. I blush.

"Alright, if there are no questions," Miss Vaughn concludes, motioning to the supply closet. "Everyone may grab a canvas and get started!"

"Hey, can you grab me one while you're over there?" Lucas asks when I stand up, making no move to get out of his chair himself. His sits slouched at a remarkable angle, bouncing his pencil up and down by the eraser.

"Why?"

"Because you're up and I'm comfortable," responds Lucas, slouching down even more.

I roll my eyes. "Fine."

"Thanks!" He gives me a cheeky smile.

"Whatever."

As I wait in line for my turn to enter the supply closet, I begin to draw designs in my head for what I might want my project to look like. Up close and personal....

My first instinct, of course, is to just draw a zoomed-in perspective of a rose. But....that's pretty much what I did for one of the squares on my character block, wasn't it? That was a bird's eye view, but still a very close-up view of the spiraled petals.

And the more I think about it, if I'm completely honest with myself....the rose thing is getting a bit played out, isn't it? I've always drawn and painted roses because they're beautiful and symbolic to me, because they represent the namesake that I was never allowed to live. And I know that because of this, no matter how much I incorporate them into my art, roses will never lose their magic for me.

However, they no longer create much of a challenge. And if being in Advanced Art is supposed to challenge my abilities....isn't it about time I start expanding my art into other territories?

"Took you long enough," Lucas snorts when I finally arrive back to our table with the two canvases and some paint. "Thought I was gonna start growing a beard over here."

"You're welcome," I respond without any malice, hoping to make him feel guilty.

It works. "Hey, I was just messing around," he assures me, straightening the canvas I just handed him. "Thank you."

I smile. "No problem."

We fall silent, and I spend a few moments staring at my own blank canvas. What to paint if not a rose?

"By the way," Lucas says out of nowhere, and I notice that he has already dipped his brush into the gray and is creating light strokes with it. "I like the look."

"Huh?"

"You know, the whole....what you've got going on here." he gestures over his own face. "You're wearing makeup, aren't you?"

"Oh!" Jesus, how had I forgotten? Maybe because, besides the incident this morning, I haven't received nearly as many reactions as I feared."I mean, uh....thanks."

"Really brave of you," Lucas continues, not even looking up from his panting.

"Thanks," I say again, blushing. I don't look up from my canvas either, although mine is still totally blank. What the hell do I paint?

When I can't come up with any ideas, I move to watching Lucas move his paintbrush in light, delicate strokes across his assigned surface. He has moved from gray to a very light brown, and I silently wonder if he's going to paint a tree. He told me that trees are his thing, right? Just like roses are mine?

"So," Lucas breaks the silence again. "If you don't mind me asking....what's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, opening the lid of the crimson paint canister, as if I'm going to use it. I can't have Lucas knowing that I still have no idea--

"With the makeup," Lucas clarifies. "Not that I care, just wondering. Are you gay? Trans? Just making a statement?"

My brain goes off like a fire alarm in my head at the sound of the T word. Abort! Abort! Abort!

".....Uhhhh....." Is the only sound that I can produce as suddenly Lucas is staring right at me, expectantly.

"Dude, you know I don't care what you are, right?" Lucas says in response to my extended silence. "Like, I know that a lot of people say that and don't mean it, but I actually mean it."

Oh, how I wish I could believe you, I think over the fire alarm still sounding in my head. Not that being accepted by this kid is even my biggest concern right now. It's really Sam that I'm worried about. What's he going to say when he finds out that I've gone behind his back and revealed my identity to someone, right after agreeing that I wouldn't?

"Can we....not have this talk right....in this moment?" I ask, cringing at my own word choice. I swear to god, I am the biggest potato when it comes to words.

But to my relief, Lucas just shrugs. "Okay," he says, and goes right back to his painting.

I breathe out a relaxed sigh. "Thanks."

"Whatever. So what are you going to paint?"

Relieved by the quick change of subject, I actually admit the truth. "I have no idea."

"You need some help?"

I raise an eyebrow. "How are you gonna help me? It won't exactly be my project if you come up with an idea for me."

"That's not what I'm suggesting," he says, pushing aside his own canvas for a moment. He grabs all of the paint canisters that I brought to our table and lines them up in a row in between us. "See, when I struggled with ideas for art class last semester, I would always go home and line up all my paints on my desk. I would pick one without looking, then I would call in my little sister and ask her to pick a color. I decided that I would use both of the colors we picked in my art project somehow. This always really helped with narrowing down my options, and eventually led me to pick something."

"Huh," I say, thoughtfully. "Interesting."

"Wanna try it?"

"Uh....sure."

"Okay. I'm gonna mix up all the colors. Close your eyes."

I do, and hear him shuffle around the order of the paints for a little bit. "Okay," says Lucas's voice. "Now choose."

Reaching out my hand slowly, I pick up the first canister my fingers touch. When I open my eyes, I see that I picked up black. "Wow, that helps," I say sarcastically. "What did you pick?"

He holds up a small container labeled Forest Green. "This one," he says, sliding it my way. "Now put them together."

I look at the two colors I hold now-- black in one hand, green in the other-- and sigh. "Well, I guess it was worth a shot," I mutter. "But I still don't know--" I cut myself off when suddenly, a beautiful vision envelops my mind in a warm light. I see the black, I see the green....and other colors too. ".....Oh."

"What?" asks Lucas.

I smile. "I know what to paint now."

He gives me a smug grin. "Ha. Told you it would work."

------------

Dan

Okay....I'm gonna be real with you here....I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I challenged that junior to a fight this morning.

But of course, that isn't something I'm going to admit when Cody asks me at the start of second period, "Dude, what the hell were you thinking challenging a junior to a fight this morning?"

I glare at him, slamming my backpack down next to my seat that is unfortunately next to his. I sit down slowly, however, as every movement of my tight black shirt sends a stinging pain across the skin over my ribs. "What, you don't think I can take him?"

"Not even a little," says Cody. "Though I'm sure it'll be entertaining to watch you try."

"Fuck you," I snap. "I'm gonna prove you all wrong. You'll see."

"Alright, quiet down everyone," Mr. Green calls for our attention as soon as the bell rings. "We have a lot to do today, starting with assigning groups for the first project of the year."

There are groans throughout the class, and mine is among them. But it's when Mr. Green smiles evilly in my direction that I know I'm truly fucked.

While he jabbers on about whatever miserable project he's assigning us, I pull my phone out compulsively and text Sam.

ME: Miss you.

SAM: Dude, it's second period. Clingy much?

ME: Maybe. Are you complaining?

SAM: No. I miss you too.

"Do you think he's really going to pair us together?" Cody mutters as the teacher starts listing off groups.

"Probably," I grimace, hiding my phone for a minute. "It looks like we're being put into groups of three, though."

"Even worse," Cody moans.

For once, I completely agree with him.

"Now for group five, let's have...." Mr. Green pauses, staring at a list of students as he makes a big show of thinking it over. "Ah, yes. Cody, Dan, and....Faith."

I don't know whose groan is louder, mine or Cody's. In front of us, a blonde girl with two braids and glasses turns and frowns at us. "What? Am I really that bad?"

"No," Cody assures her politely, jerking his thumb at me. "It's this asshole."

"Fuck you," I say to the same person for the second time in five minutes. Damn, I need to work on my creativity.

"I'll give you all a few minutes to talk and plan with your group," says Mr. Green after he reads off the last names. Then the room devolves into meaningless chatter, very little of which has to do with the actual assignment, I'm sure.

The girl called Faith turns her entire desk so that it faces mine and Cody's. "Alright," she says, opening her history textbook immediately. "So I have a few ideas for layout, but first, what are you guys thinking for medium? I prefer powerpoints myself, but I'm open to just doing a poster board if you guys prefer--"

"Whoa whoa, slow down Hermione," I stop her. "What's the assignment again?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"He was too busy texting," says Cody. I try to kick him under his desk, but he moves his leg just in time.

Faith sighs exasperatedly. "We have to do a presentation on someone significant from the French Revolution."

"Oh, nice!" says Cody, sounding legitimately excited. "I actually love this unit. The French had the most interesting revolution, in my opinion."

Faith smiles wide. "I completely agree! It was awesome! Um, I mean, besides all of the beheadings."

"And we get to choose who we're presenting on, right?"

"Yep. I don't know if you have any ideas, but I was actually thinking--"

"Please say Robespierre," Cody cuts in.

"Yes! That's exactly who I was thinking of!" Faith squeals.

"Ugh, I think I'm going to suffocate on all of these nerd fumes," I groan, dramatically.

Cody looks at me all wide eyed and innocent. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should we tone down the frequency of our speech to something you can understand?"

My fists clench under my desk and I have to resist the urge to throttle him. "No, but you can stop being such an irritating, pompous faggot."

"Whoa!" says Faith, immediately. "Dude, that word's not cool anymore."

"Oh it's fine, I can say it," I assure her. "I'm half-faggot."

Faith squints at me, as if unsure of what that means, but my attention is pulled from her when my phone buzzes surprisingly in my lap.

SAM: Hey, could I vent to you about something real quick?

I can't help but chuckle at the nervous undertone of his text. Like he even has to ask.

ME: Of course, Sammy. What's up?

SAM: It's Rose. The way she's been acting lately....it's really been bothering me.

I frown at that. What do you mean?, I text back. Personally, I see the drastic, overwhelmingly positive change in Rose's personality as something to celebrate, especially considering all that she's been through these past few months. I'm surprised that Sam doesn't see it the same way.

SAM: The way she's been talking about coming out, and being all excited about wearing makeup and stuff. Like, I get it. I want to come out, too. But I just don't get why she's so....committed to it all of a sudden. She didn't used to be like this.

Didn't used to be what? Happy?, I text back, still confused.

"Hey rich boy," says Cody all of a sudden. "You gonna put down your iPhone 7 and help us work on this anytime soon?"

I glare at him. "You gonna stop being an insufferable douchebag and mind your own business anytime soon?"

"Will you two stop bitching at each other anytime soon?" Faith snaps at both of us. "Honestly, I've been around you for all of three minutes and it's already getting on my nerves. I'm sure whatever petty rivalry you two have can be set aside for the sake of a two-week-long project."

"I'm not so sure about that," I grumble, turning back to my phone when Sam's response comes in.

SAM: I mean that she didn't used to be so excited about coming out. She used to change the subject if I even brought it up. I used to be the one who wanted this, and she was the one who was afraid. I used to be the strong one.

It's the last sentence of his text that really makes it click for me. Suddenly, his recent unsettledness makes total sense.

ME: Ohhhh. I get it now. That's kind of shitty of you, though, tbh.

SAM: Huh? What is?

ME: The fact that you're angry at Rose for being more confident than you in something. You're literally always the strong one, and this is the first time that she has one up on you. She must have worked damned hard to overcome whatever used to make her so scared of coming out. You should be proud of her, not jealous.

"Interesting text convo there?" Faith asks, making me look up.

"Huh?"

"You look kinda mad," she remarks, seeming amused.

"Do I?" I wasn't aware that I looked it, and it's only now that I even realize I feel it. But maybe not mad as much as.....disappointed. I don't want Sam to feel the way he does towards Rose. Not only because he's better than this petty jealously, but because Rose doesn't deserve it.

"Maybe you should put away the phone and actually help us take notes," says Cody, who is jotting things down from the textbook onto a piece of paper.

This time I ignore him. Mostly because I'm distracted when my phone buzzes from Sam's response. Unsurprisingly, it's totally defensive.

SAM: I'm not jealous! And I'm not angry at her. If anything, I'm angry at myself.

ME: For what?

SAM: For being afraid.

And with those three words, all of my disappointment with Sam vanishes, and all I want is to hunt him down and wrap him in a ginormous hug.

But unfortunately, before I can send him any words of encouragement, my phone disappears from my hand.

"Hey, give it back!" I yell, not immediately realizing that it was Mr. Green who took it.

"Sorry Daniel, you know the policy," he says, not sounding sorry at all as he walks my phone up to his desk. "You can have it back after class."

I fume quietly in my seat while next to me, Cody smiles smugly.

"Shut up," I mutter before he can say anything.

"Hey, I did try to warn you--"

"I said shut up."

"You shut up."

"For the love of god, both of you shut up!" Faith exclaims, making a few people look. "All I want is to get an A on this project. I will gladly do it all myself if that's what it takes, but until it is done, I need you both to stop acting like children before I freaking choke you!"

------------

Sam

I don't hear from Dan again until third period gym, when he meets me right in front of the locker rooms, grinning sheepishly.

"What gives?" I demand, in reference to his extended silence. "Were you really so mad at me that  you decided to ignore me for an hour?"

"Teacher took my phone," he explains.

"Oh." Well that's better, I suppose.

"And I wasn't mad at you," he corrects. "Just got a bit defensive of Rose, is all."

"That used to be my job!" I snap at him, remembering my own bitterness all over again. "Why is everyone else suddenly making it theirs? First Rose Parker, then Cody, now you? What's so freaking special and pure about Rose that she needs to be protected by everyone?"

"Well well well, Mr. Not Jealous," Dan teases me with a crooked smile. Trying to lighten my mood, obviously.

I'm not having it today. Trying to hide my tears, I duck my head as I push past him and into the girls' locker room.

"Nice haircut, Sam!" someone sneers with mock-sincerity. "Fully embracing the lesbian life, I see. Good for you."

"Whoa, did you see Samantha?" someone else says.

"No. Where?"

"She just came in. She's gone full butch with her hair."

"No way."

"About time."

I grab my clothes in fists and practically run to my normal stall in the back of the room. Jesus, don't these bitches have anything else to talk about?

Once I'm changed, I try to rush out the door quickly to avoid facing anyone's comments. I should have known I wouldn't get away so easily.

Callie Dunham and three members of her posse stand directly in front of the doorway. "So," says Callie, smiling. "You coming out now?"

"Fuck off," I snarl, trying to shove my way through, but they push me back.

"Hey, I was just asking," says Callie defensively. "I mean, your brother already did, so I assumed you were next."

"Oh my god, did you see little Georgie today?" one of her friends laughs in a high-pitched voice. "All dolled up in makeup, with his hair pinned back. So cute!"

"Yeah, Edgar lost his shit when he saw," Callie laughs. "Said that the kid really looks like he wants to suck dick now."

While her friends laugh mindlessly, completely unaware that the comment was anything more than a joke, Callie winks at me.

Just as I'm balling my fists at my sides, thinking that Dan won't be the only one getting into a fight on his second day of school after all, Dan himself comes charging through the door.

Amidst shouts of "Whoa!" and "Hey!" and "You can't be in here!", he shoves the girls aside and grabs ahold of my forearm, yanking me out of the locker room.

-

I'm lucky that we're doing a mile today, because even after warm-ups, I'm still steaming mad from my encounter.

"You should've let me murder those bitches," I tell Dan as we start our run.

"No way. I'd miss you if you went to prison."

I roll my eyes but, even though I'm still angry with him, find it impossible to withhold a smile.

"I'm sorry, by the way," says Dan, after we've been jogging for a bit. We're not going very fast today, but have already managed to leave most of the class behind with our impressive stamina.

"Sorry for what?" I ask.

Dan pauses. "I....I don't know. Whatever I did to make you mad, I guess?" He flinches, probably fearing that he just made things worse.

I let my next breath out in the form of a sigh. "I'm not mad at you, Danny," I admit. "I'm still just angry at myself. And angry that you were kind of right....I guess I am jealous of Rose right now." My face burns from admitting it, but I have to be honest with him. He earned it by calling me on my bullshit, like he always does.

At least he doesn't tease me like he tried to earlier. "Thanks for being honest with me," he says instead. "And I guess your feelings are fair, in a sense. You're not exactly used to being the anxious one of the two of you."

"It's not just that," I tell him, deciding I might as well continue on the honesty train now that I've already boarded. "This is so stupid, but....I've always taken pride in being able to protect my sister. I was always her best protector, the one she trusted the most. I took care of her, like....like a brother should." I can feel my breaths starting to shorten finally, so I stop at the next corner for a break.

Dan stops with me, not saying a thing as I take a minute to breathe. Still listening.

"Then this year came along, and everything changed." I continue, a heavy sadness suddenly falling over me as I reflect on everything that happened last semester: From the awful bullying we endured, to our mutual obsession over Cody, to our horrible falling out, and finally to Rosie's assault that happened not too far from where Dan and I are currently standing.

As if thinking along the same lines as me, Dan glances across the football field at the side of the school building where it happened-- that horrific alcove before the grass expands into the field, where the walls of the building indent into a small rectangle of useless space behind the dumpster. It's like it was molded for someone to be attacked there.

I shake away the memories, continuing on with my own confession of shitty feelings. "I almost feel like my life has been split into two chapters: before the fall of 2016, and after. Before last semester, Rose trusted me above all others. I was practically the only person she even talked to, she was so shy and afraid. I spoke for her in almost every situation. When we were alone and she started to cry, I reminded her that things would be okay, that one day we would be able to be ourselves, to be happy. I supported her and protected her. And above all, I was the one who talked about coming out."

I pause to take a breath, then find myself laughing. Oh, how things have changed. "And now," I continue on. "It's almost like everything about us has flipped. Now Rosie is the one who wants to come out, and who doesn't care what anyone thinks. She's the one standing up to bullies, taking steps to be herself, and encouraging me to be brave. And the worst part is....I don't know how it happened." I can feel myself starting to cry, so I press the heels of my hands to my eyes.

"I don't know why I used to be brave, and now I'm scared. I don't know why Rosie is suddenly so strong and okay, despite everything, and...." this last part is going to be the hardest to admit, but I'm on a roll now and there's no stopping me. I take a deep breath. "I hate that she doesn't need me anymore, Dan," I sob, not even trying to hold back the tears anymore. "I hate that I can't protect her because I'm so scared and useless, but more than that, I hate that she doesn't need me."

"Oh, Sammy," Dan sighs. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight, and I let him. His warmth alone soothes my pain.

I laugh cruelly at myself through my tears. "God, this is such a stupid thing to cry about," I mutter. "And you were right before. It is selfish."

"Yeah," Dan agrees, rubbing my back as he hugs me. "But that doesn't mean it isn't understandable. These are totally normal feelings, Sam. It's normal to want to feel needed, especially when you always have been. But you also need to understand....Rose is growing up. She's her own person, and as she matures she is going to want to take care of herself. You're still her brother, of course. You always will be. But you don't have to care for her so.....intensely."

I wipe my face roughly, glad that my breathing has finally leveled. "Yeah," I agree. "I know."

"Do you want to talk about the other thing now?" Dan asks softly.

'What other thing?"

"The part about you being scared to come out," he clarifies. "Are you ready to talk about why?"

I almost laugh, the question is so simple to answer. Especially after everything I just revealed. "That one's easy," I tell him. "I'm a coward."

He cocks his head to one side. "What are you scared--?"

"Everything," I say. "My parents, my teachers, people I don't know or never talk to. I'm scared of what will or won't happen next, how I will or won't be treated differently. I'm just scared, Dan. And I'm scared because I'm a coward."

"I don't think being scared makes you a coward," Dan tells me firmly, placing his hands on either side of my face to look at me dead-on. "Your fears are reasonable,"

"Rose doesn't feel them," I argue.

"She doesn't overanalyze shit like you do," Dan points out. "But anyway, none of that matters. You get to come out whenever you choose, and only have to tell whomever you're comfortable telling. There's no rush."

"But there kind of is," I remind him, guilt crawling up inside my chest. "Rose and I agreed to do it together. Every day that I'm too cowardly to tell the truth, Rose gets more and more miserable. What if--"

"No, don't you start with your 'what-ifs'," Dan stops me right away. "Look, I can't give you an easy solution to this. All I can say is....you'll figure it out. Either Rose will learn to be patient with you, or you'll get over your fear. Whatever happens, I'm with you every step of the way. Okay?"

Stupid tears fill my eyes again, but this time not from sadness. This time, I'm the one to embrace Dan. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Sammy boy," Dan laughs. "Wanna race the rest of the way?"

I grin, but shake my head gently over his shoulder. "Nah, not today. Too tired."

"Okay." He pulls away from me, lifting my chin with his hand. I keep my eyes on the ground. "Hey, look at me Sammy."

I do. Even as our classmates run past us, some of them muttering insults and derogatory things as they pass by, I find myself able to ignore them completely. It's really interesting, how easily I can become captured in the warm darkness of Dan's eyes boring directly into mine, and how the whole rest of the world seems to fade away to a blurred nothing when I stare into them.

"Everything is going to be okay," he says to me, softly.

I smile. "I know," I tell him. After all, that is what I said to Rose after cutting my hair yesterday. The question is, is it something I truly believe?

------------

Dan

It's really interesting how easily the lie slipped from my lips, and how I almost seemed to believe it myself when I said it. Just to make Sammy feel better.

I try not to focus on the stinging cuts beneath my shirt as we take off running again.

------------

Sam

The rest of the day passes by uneventfully, but I continue to struggle with shameful feelings of anger and jealousy towards Rose. To help fight against it, I keep Dan's words from gym at the forefront of my mind. I try to focus on feeling happy for Rose, while at the same time struggling to overcome my own anxieties about coming out. I try reminding myself over and over that, like Dan said, everything will be okay.

Unfortunately I have very little success, and by math class I'm feeling worse than ever. Depression has hit me like a semi truck barreling around the corner, and I had no chance to prepare because I didn't see it coming. Now I can barely walk, I feel so crushed.

Dan is already there when I arrive, and stands up when he sees me. "Hey Sammy-- whoa. You look terrible."

"Thanks," I mutter. "I know my hair looks bad, dude. You don't have to keep reminding me."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He's right. I know exactly what he meant.

"What's wrong with you?" Dan asks me, deep concern and worry making his voice sound strained. "It's like you've just been getting worse throughout the day. Is there something I don't know about?"

I bite my lip, wondering if I should just tell him the truth: That I've wanted to cut since first period, and the pain of not having a blade to do it with is weighing me down even more than the depression. You just need to cut, my subconscious keeps saying. You know you'll feel better.

I shake my head, both in response to the persuasive voice of my own depression, and to Dan's question. "I'll be okay." I'm actually not sure I will. "I'm just kind of tired. I've had a rough day." I wish more than anything that I had a blade right now.

"Well hey, there's a lot to look forward to after school," Dan reminds me, grinning widely. "Like paying me ten dollars after watching me beat down that John kid."

I snort. "Right. As if."

A girl in the row in front of us turns around suddenly, eyes wide. "Wait. You're the one who's fighting John Walker today?"

"Uh....yeah," says Dan, raising a confused eyebrow. "What's it to you?"

The girl ignores him, tapping the shoulder of her friend next to her. "Dude, he's the one fighting John Walker!" She jabs a thumb in Dan's direction.

The other girl turns around. "Holy shit. Dude, do you even know how many Twitter mentions this fight has?"

"What are you talking about?" Dan asks, looking more suspicious than confused now.

The girl pulls out her phone to show him, and I can't help but lean over myself to glance through the tweets as she scrolls:

-My man John is fighting a mouthy freshman after school! #JohnWalkerFight

-Everyone to the fb field after school! I hear John is fighting again. #JohnWalkerFight

-Shit, I haven't seen Walker throw down since middle school. This gon be good. #killthefreshy #johnwalkerfight

-In case ya'll haven't heard, some freshy mouthed off at Walker this morning. Come to the field after school to see him get wrecked! #johnwalkerfight

I lean back when I can't stomach reading anymore. I had no idea this John kid was so popular among the upperclassmen.

Apparently, Dan didn't either. "Are you kidding me?" he asks in disbelief. "How many people are gonna show up?"

The girl shrugs. "No idea. I don't even know who John Walker is, but he sounds like a big deal. Good luck not dying."

"Thanks," Dan mutters.

At that precise moment, about three seconds before the late bell rings, Rose rushes into the classroom.

"What took you so long?" I hiss as she takes her seat.

Rose takes a minute to catch her breath, fixing some flyaways that have come loose from her hair clips before pulling out her math binder. "Gym was....difficult."

Almost reflexively, my fists clench beneath my desk as I feel the defensive anger bubble up inside of me. At the same time, a surprising smirk overtakes my face. "Alright Rosie," I whisper. "Who do I need to kill?"

"What?" She looks up from her notes, confused. "Oh! That's not what I meant. I mean....no one really gave me any more shit than usual. I just mean because we had to run a mile today. It took me a lot longer than everyone else. That's why I was almost late."

"....Oh." I'd be lying if I said I'm not disappointed. "So then....no one has given you trouble today?"

Rose shrugs. "Like I said, no more than usual. And nothing I can't handle. I'm telling you Sam, when we finally come out everything is going to be absolutely fine."

I can hear the longing in her voice when she says this, and guilt wracks my body once again. I wish more than anything that this could be as easy for me as it is for her.

Completely ignorant of my internal struggle, Rose turns to Dan. "So a little birdie told me that you're fighting that older kid from this morning after school today?"

Dan snorts. "I'm guessing that little birdie's name was Cody?"

Rose smiles. "Yep. And just so you know, I'm not staying to watch. I have better things to do than witness the testosterone-fueled rage of adolescent boys get them into trouble. Good luck, though."

"Thank you." Dan says genuinely, before narrowing his eyes at me. "At least someone believes in me."

I roll my eyes, about to tell them both to fuck off when suddenly Mr. Smith clears his throat.

"Excuse me," he says once we all snap our heads up. "Would it be too much trouble for you three to be quiet so that I can continue teaching?"

"Sorry," Rose mutters, blushing.

Dan and I roll our eyes, but decide that today is not a good day for detention and keep our smart mouths shut.

Throughout the class, I continue to battle feelings of depression, jealousy, anger, regret, and all kinds of things that don't make sense. A large part of me wonders why it has to be so difficult for me to just be happy. I have so many things going for me: a boyfriend who loves me and who would do anything for me, the haircut I've always wanted and was finally brave enough to give myself, and a sister who will come out of the closet with me as soon as I give the word.

So why can't I give the word? Why can't I just be happy? Is it really that I'm scared of being bullied worse than I already am, or is it something more than that? Is the truth that I'm just so accustomed to being miserable, that I now see happiness as some scary, unachievable dream?

Or does my fear go even deeper than that? What if I'm really afraid that coming out won't make me happy? All my life, I have longed for the day that I can finally live as my true self. I have convinced myself that the crushing sadness inside of me is nothing but a result of the lie I've been living, and that all I would need to be happy is to finally be allowed to live as a boy.

But what if that's not it? What if I come out with Rose only to find that nothing gets better, that my life is destined to remain miserable no matter what? What will I do then? What will there be left to hope for?

"Hello! Knock knock, is anyone home?"

I blink, terrified that the teacher has been calling on me, only to find that everyone is working on homework and chatting amongst themselves. Smith's lecture must have ended awhile ago.

Dan was the one talking to me. "Are you okay?" he whispers when he finally has my attention. I can see the obvious worry in his eyes.

"Yeah," I squeak, then clear my throat. "Ahem, I mean....I'm fine."

"I really feel like you're not."

"What's going on?" asks Rose from my other side, overhearing our conversation. "Sam? Is everything alright?"

"Guys, I'm fine," I huff. "Just thinking a lot. Get off my back, would you?"

Rose presses her glossed lips together, but backs off immediately. She knows me well.

Better than Dan, apparently, because he continues to press. "Sam, I'm not going to keep buying this 'I'm fine' shit," he says in a voice too low for Rose to hear. "I know what you look like when you're fine, and you're not fine. Now will you please just talk to me so I can help you? Is it still the stuff you were telling me about in gym?"

I take a few controlled breaths to keep myself from snapping at him. Why is it so freaking hard for Dan to back off when I tell him to? "Dan....if I want to talk to you about it, I will. I've already cried once today, and I'm spent. Now I'm begging you, please drop it."

Dan looks reluctant, but thankfully withholds whatever smart-ass comment was on the tip of his tongue and turns his focus to his math homework.

I do the same, even though I have no idea what's going on. There's no way I'm asking Dan or Rose for help, though. Not when I just snapped at them. I'll figure it out.

About ten minutes of staring blankly at the textbook later, I hear Dan sigh next to me. "Would you like some help?"

I hesitate for a long while before sighing myself and responding. "....Yeah."

------------

Rose

I leave math class almost as quickly as I entered it, and without a word, but have only one thought on my mind as I rush to baking: What the hell is the matter with Sam lately?

I still can't get over how backwards everything is now compared to six months ago, back when Sam was the one obsessed with coming out and I was the scared, insecure one. It almost feels like I've stepped into a parallel universe, and I keep trying to think back and pinpoint when exactly it happened.

But even besides all of that, Sam seems more off today than ever before. Like something entirely new is plaguing him, something I couldn't guess if I tried.

I can only hope he tells me eventually.

"Hey kid," says Lucas as I take my seat next to him. "How's your day been?"

I shrug. "Okay."

"Just okay?" Lucas prods. "Anything interesting?"

I shrug again. "Could've been better, could've been worse. Overall, not too bad."

Lucas chuckles. "You're a champion at avoiding conversation, aren't you?"

"Yep."

Lucas seems like he's about to say something else, but is cut off when Mrs. Reeves starts her lecture.

I enjoy today's lesson, because it involves a lot of math. We talk about converting different measurements when baking, multiplying and dividing recipes, etc. Simple, mindless work, and just what I need to get my mind off my brother.

Eventually, Mrs. Reeves splits us into groups and gives us a measurement conversion worksheet to complete together. Since she splits us by rows, I end up being placed with Lucas and that girl Faith who spoke for me yesterday.

"Okay," Faith starts right away. "First problem: A recipe for brownies requires half a cup of butter. How many tablespoons is that?"

"Uhhhh...." says Lucas, drawing it out dramatically. "How are we supposed to know that again?"

Faith sighs. "Please don't tell me I'm going to have to do this all by myself."

"It's eight," I say, writing it down. "Also, the answer to the next question is sixteen, and after that is two-thirds. Sorry, I was looking ahead."

Faith looks at me over her glasses, clearly impressed. "Wow. Nice one, Georgie. I forgot how smart you are."

"Oh, well this is good for me," says Lucas, leaning back in his chair. "Now I can relax while you two do all the work."

I roll my eyes at Lucas before directing my gaze to Faith. "Have we been in class together before?" I ask her, curiously. I feel bad not remembering her if she remembers me, but then again, I've done everything I can to block out most of my middle school years by now.

"Yeah. I was new in seventh grade. We had English together. I sat near you in the back, but I don't think you ever noticed me."

"Oh....sorry." I blush.

Faith shrugs her bony shoulders. "It's fine. I wasn't exactly a social butterfly. I did notice that you were kind of close with Kelsey and Brianna though, and those girls hated my guts for some reason."

"Really?" Ugh, I should've guessed. Anyone who is smarter or more talented than those two has to be the object of their scorn. I can't believe I used to call them my friends. "Well trust me, I'm not close to them anymore."

"Kelsey and Brianna....aren't those girls in our art class?" Lucas asks. "They seem like total bitches to me. You used to be friends with them?"

I shrug, cringing at myself. "They mostly hung out with me out of pity, I think. They were always jealous when I did better than them in art, though." Yikes, I hope that last part didn't make me sound conceited.

"Sounds like them," Faith snorts. "Anyway, on to number four--"

"One third," I cut in, writing it down. "Number five is a gallon. Number six, three cups."

"Jeez, give someone else a go, why don't you?" Lucas says sarcastically. He's staring at me in admiration.

Faith also looks increasingly more impressed. "You work fast, dude."

I shrug, blushing. "I like math," I explain.

"Me too, but I can't do it that fast," Faith says. "Were you ever tested for the gifted program in elementary school?"

I grimace, suddenly overcome by a swarm of memories from fifth grade: Being sent home one day with a pamphlet for the gifted program enclosed with my report card, my parents swelling with pride and telling me they were going to enroll me....only to be shocked when I cried and begged them not to. I remember my logic being, I'm bullied enough as it is! I can only imagine adding this into the mix! Not to mention that being moved to gifted classes would mean leaving Sam behind. Even if I could handle everything else, I could not handle that.

I ended up crying until my parents swore that they wouldn't sign me up, though they did so with the most baffled expressions.

"It was never something I really pursued," I respond to Faith's question.

"Well, I think you should take a test," says Faith. "I'm in the gifted program, and if I could make it then you definitely will."

"For real," Lucas agrees. "With your math skills and your art skills....you have to be some sort of prodigy."

I blush at his comment, but think it over. Though the mere suggestion of even taking the gifted test brings on thoughts similar to those from fifth grade, I can't help but notice that among the fears, there lurks a strange sense of....curiosity. Is Faith right? Do I belong in the gifted program? I've always been smart, I know that much, but am I really gifted?

"We're done, Mrs. Reeves" Faith announces after completing the last two problems herself, holding the worksheet up for our teacher to collect.

"Already?" Mrs. Reeves asks, suspiciously. She accepts the worksheet from Faith, but takes a minute to check it over. "Hm...well, there appears to be no mistakes. Nice work, you three."

"Hey, I didn't do anything," says Lucas, honestly. "It was entirely these two."

"You provided moral support," I say, patting him on the shoulder.

"Nice to know that's my role here," Lucas snorts. "I hope we don't end up in any more groups together. I feel like I should be working with people who are a little more my speed...."

"I hope you all like the people I put you with today," Mrs. Reeves announces suddenly. "Because these will be your baking groups for the rest of the semester."

Faith laughs. "Don't worry Lucas, we'll try to leave you some work to do." Then she turns back to me. "But seriously George, you should take the test. They give them for free in the counselor's office. If you get a high enough score, they'll put you in honor's classes your sophomore year."

That causes me to waver a bit. I'm not sure if that's something I can handle....or something I even want to handle.

"I mean, do whatever you want," Faith amends suddenly. "I don't want to sound like some pushy recruiter. But I'm just saying, it'll look really good on college applications."

I almost gasp as it hits me-- college applications-- and all of my petty fears of the gifted program from fifth grade are completely washed out by hope. I remember what Miss Vaughn told me, about how she was able to get a full ride to college and use the money she saved up in high school for her transition. I imagine myself on a similar path, following a chain of events that starts with me taking the gifted test and passing it. I make it into honor's classes, do well in those, then colleges start to notice me. They throw scholarships at me left and right, maybe even offering me extra money, all of which I could put towards the surgeries that I know I want someday....

"All I'm saying is, you should think about it," Faith concludes her pitch, clearly unaware that she has already sold it to me.

I look in Lucas's direction, noting that he has been strangely quiet, and see him working intently on something in his sketchbook. "What?" he says when he catches me staring. "I figured if we have extra time, I might as well be productive somehow."

"Can I see what you're working on?" I ask politely.

He hesitates, chewing his lip as he considers my request. "....Alright. But no laughing, okay?"

"Why would I laugh?"

He shrugs, but passes his book to me. I see that it's not quite a drawing yet, but a rough outline with lots of lines and smudges from his eraser. It's the outline of a face.

"I'm still trying to work on drawing people," Lucas mutters, embarrassed. "For me, the hardest thing is probably the faces. I've been trying to practice, but I can't get the details right."

"Hey, you have a good start here," I tell him honestly. "And if you need help with the details....I could pry teach you some stuff."

Lucas looks at me through his long bangs, his dark eyes hopeful. "Really? I'd like that. When are you free?"

"Oh! Um, I-I um....uh," I stammer awkwardly, my throat suddenly going dry. I didn't expect him to accept my offer quite so suddenly, or so....smoothly. "How about today?" I want to smack myself in the forehead as soon as the words come out. Idiot! I can't do today. I'm not ready.

Thankfully, Lucas shakes his head. "Ah, sorry. Can't do today."

"Aw, really?" I respond, pretending to sound disappointed instead of relieved that I'll have some time to prepare. "Why not?"

Lucas grins mischievously. "I'm watching the fight after school."

"Ugh, not you too!" Faith groans suddenly, reminding me that she's there. "I swear to god, I haven't been able to sit through a single class today without hearing about that stupid fight. What is so interesting about it?"

Lucas stares at her as if that was the stupidest question he has ever heard. "Um, hello? This isn't just any fight. This is a John Walker fight."

"And who the hell is John Walker?" Faith demands, her voice still full of scorn for anyone who seems to think this fight is important.

Lucas blinks at her. "Only a freaking legend. He went to my middle school; he was in eighth grade when I was in sixth, and I swear to god the kid was suspended more than he wasn't. He was known as the only kid who would threaten to kick someone's ass, and then actually do it. Most people at the school knew not to fuck with him after the first time he knocked out a kid who called him a fag. But every now and then, some kid thought he could prove himself as the biggest badass by challenging John to a fight. Needless to say, those kids always learned their lesson. John Walker is not someone to mess around with."

I gulp, my stomach growing cold as Lucas wraps up his explanation. That's the kid that Dan is fighting. Oh god.

"Sounds like just another high school boy to me," Faith snorts. "Someone who only cares about being seen as tough, and thinks he has to beat on other people to prove his superiority. It's honestly sickening."

"Call it what you want, but you've never seen him in action," says Lucas, an excited glint in his eyes. "As long as it isn't you or someone you care about on the receiving end of his fists, you really can't help but sit back and enjoy the show. It helps that the person who is getting beaten down is usually also a bully. Someone who deserves it."

Faith and Lucas continue their discussion on the ethics of fighting, but I tune them out at this point. Oh Dan. You fucking idiot. Clearly he had no idea what he was getting into when he challenged this kid to a fight.

I have to warn him.

------------

Dan

By the end of the day, my heart legit feels like it's about to burst from my chest, it's beating so damned hard. I've lost count of how many people I've heard gossiping about the "John Walker fight" going on after school today, without most of them even realizing that the very kid they were betting against was right in their vicinity.

I avoided making my presence known in these situations, far too busy wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

When the final bell rings, I take my sweet time packing up and am the last one to leave the classroom. I try to ignore my dry throat and the cold sweat taking over the back of my neck as I make my way through the crowd of students at a snail's pace. The gossip has increased in intensity; all I hear is John Walker this and John Walker that. Not a single one of them seems to give a shit who the other kid is.

Sam is quick to catch up with me in the commons. "Hey, Danny boy. You don't look so good."

"You're one to talk," I grumble, taking note of his pained expression that seems to have gotten even worse since math class.

Sam ignores my jibe. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Its not too late to back out, you know," Sam reminds me, and I don't miss the tinge of hope in his voice that makes it clear he wants me to do just that.

As if I haven't been silently considering that option all day. "With this many people talking about it?" I point out. "Yeah, it is."

"You don't have to prove anything to those fuckers," Sam argues with a frown. "Just walk home with me. We won't even walk past the football field. It'll be fine." He takes my hand, his eyes begging.

I press my lips together, thinking. God, his offer sounds so tempting. It really would be nice to survive the day, even if it makes me a pussy. But I can't duck out, not after all my talk this morning.

"But then who would get the ten dollars?" I joke, smirking at him so he won't see the fear behind my mask. "I don't just have to do this, Sammy. I want to do this."

"Do you though?"

God dammit, how does he see through me so easily?

"Yeah," I lie. "Now come on, have a little faith in me. I know how to fight too, you know."

Sam sighs, but doesn't say anything else as he follows me out the front doors. We take the sidewalk slowly, following the path that circles around the school and will eventually take us to the field.

Cody meets up with us about halfway down the path.

I glare at him when he joins us. "Come to bet against me, Foster?"

"Not really," he answers with a shrug. "I hate John too, remember? I actually came to give you some advice."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Advice?"

"Yeah. About fighting."

"Since when do you know shit about fighting, dork?"

"Don't tuck your thumb into your fist," Cody continues, ignoring me. "You're more likely to break a knuckle that way. Make sure when you throw your arm forward, you keep it level with your shoulder. Don't put all your force into the punch either, that could be your downfall. Keep your chin down and block your face as much as possible."

"Are you a boxing coach now?" I snort. Making fun of Cody actually soothes my nerves. "Anyway, this isn't the martial arts channel. There are no rules here."

He ignores me again. "Lastly, I recommend hitting first. It'll catch him off guard. He strikes me as the kind of person who isn't used to fighting confident people." He pats me on the arm then, pretending not to notice when I jerk away obviously from his touch. "Good luck," he says before running off to beat us both to the football field.

I stare after the kid. "What the hell was that? I was under the impression he wanted me to lose."

Sam just smiles, looking not at all surprised. "I'm telling you, Dan. Cody has a good heart. When are you going to accept that he's one of your friends now?"

"When hell freezes over," I respond without a beat. Still, I find myself reciting all of his advice in my head. Thumb outside of fist. Arm level with shoulder. Protect face. Hit first....

"Dan! Sam! Wait up!"

Sam and I stop in our tracks and turn to see Rose running after us, waving her arm wildly.

"Rosie!" Sam exclaims in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going straight home."

"Dan," Rose breathes, ignoring her brother. "Don't do this."

I sigh. "Rose--"

"The kid is a monster," she explains, talking fast. "Apparently he has never lost a fight. He'll hurt you bad, Dan, and he won't be sorry about it. Please don't do this."

For some reason, Rose begging me to back out just makes my confidence from this morning return, as I remember why I'm fighting John in the first place. I remember his cruel voice when he made fun of her for wearing a bra, then when he called her a fag for wearing makeup, and I get angry all over again.

"I'm going to do this," I tell her, sounding way braver than I feel. "And you can't stop me. If I lose, I lose. But I'm not backing out. That's not how I roll."

We're in sight of the football field now, and I can see the crowd that has already gathered just a couple hundred yards away. I can't see through the throng of students whether or not John is already there, but somehow I'm sure he is.

I sigh deeply, taking off my leather jacket. The cold air bites into my now exposed arms, and I relish the pain. I hand my jacket to Sam, who takes it without a word. "Time to get this over with."

"Hold on--"

"Dan, wait--"

I ignore both of them as I take off running, eager to get ahead of them before they can sense how scared I really am. Ready to face my doom.

As I attempt to push through the crowd, I'm met with lots of irritable shoving in response.

"Hey, watch it dude!" someone says angrily. "If you wanted to be in the front, you should've gotten here earlier."

"I'm the one he's fighting, dumbass," I growl, pushing and shoving until people finally start to realize that I'm on my way towards the middle circle, where John Walker already waits.

He doesn't notice me right away, too busy stretching dramatically in preparation for our fight, really hamming it up for the crowd. Despite the fact that he's in nothing but a thin white tank top and ripped jeans, he doesn't seem to even flinch against the cold.

Meanwhile, here I stand looking like a pathetic goth tween, with my jet black fringe and blacker clothes, shivering uncontrollably while I wait for him to notice I'm standing here.

It's only when the crowd around us falls silent in response to the second party of the fight finally arriving that John even turns around. And when he does, I'm faced with a cruel grin that's almost too big for his face.

"Well hey, look who decided to show up?" he laughs. "Trey was so sure you'd pussy out, too."

"Well then Trey is almost as big of a dumbass as you are," I respond smoothly, looking him straight in the eyes as I speak. "Where's your girlfriend at? Is she gonna get mad at you for fighting a tiny little freshman?"

"She's at cheer practice," John answers, still in good humor despite my mocking tone. "So she's not here to protect you this time."

"Good," I say simply, with the smallest of smirks. "Now there's no one to stop me from kicking your ass." With the way I face him head on, with my chin up and my hands in the pockets of my jeans, I'm sure most of the kids here see me as confident, and someone who knows exactly what they are doing and who is as pumped for this fight as John is.

I get my acting skills from my parents. The reality is, the only kids I've ever fought before were the ones who I knew couldn't defend themselves, because kicking their asses so easily always made me feel big and tough. Much less like the "sissy faggot" that other kids always accused me of being. And here I am, about to fight someone way taller with me, and with actual muscles that bulge threateningly as he clenches his fists. I am going to die.

"Alright, enough talk. You ready to die, faggot?" John laughs, cracking his knuckles.

Sure, why not? "You sure use a lot of homophobic slurs," I remark, keeping up the dialogue in an attempt to delay the inevitable. "One might wonder if you're trying to hide something."

There's a chorus of Oooohhs throughout the crowd. John's mocking expression turns into a menacing one, and he clenches his fists even tighter. I think I spot Sam somewhere in my peripheral vision, facepalming at my foolish bravery.

Without a word of warning, John lunges at me. Luckily, I was on guard. I move out of the way quickly and end up behind him. I shove him hard, and my force plus his own momentum causes him to fall forward, ending up on his hands and knees.

The crowd gasps. I smile. "Hey, what do you know," I remark while he's still down. "You've landed in just the right position for me to fuck you in the ass. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The gasps cut off into shocked laughter from my comment, but it doesn't last long. Unfortunately, John is very quick to recover. He leaps back to his feet effortlessly and before I can even process what is happening, his right hook nails me square in the jaw.

"OW! Ah, fuck!" That's gonna leave a bruise. And since John doesn't feel the need to make any smartass comments, I'm not given any time to recover. He hits me again, and again, and again until I fall backwards to the ground.

Moaning in pain, I barely roll away in time to dodge what would have been a hard kick to my face. Holy shit, this guy hits hard.

"Yeah, mess him up John!" someone yells from the crowd. Shouts of approval follow.

John goes in for another kick, this time catching me on the left side of my ribcage. My scream drowns out any and all reactions from the crowd as, unbeknownst to anyone else here, the friction of his foot just reopened about thirty fresh cuts of mine from last night. The stinging pain of the torn open wounds overwhelms everything else, and I can feel the blood soaking through my shirt.

Somehow, I manage to get back on my feet. John lunges forward again, and I jump back instinctively. This happens so many times in a row, it's almost comical: John throwing his fist forward and me dodging it without making a move to hit back. I must look pathetic, my face and shirt all covered in blood as I practically have to dance to avoid being hit again.

"Where's your confidence now, faggot?" John jeers as he continues to follow me around the circle. I want to hit him back, but it's hard enough just to remain upright with the amount of pain I'm in. And he's not giving me any time to think. Not only does he hit hard, he hits fast.

"Come on Dan, you've got this!" Someone shouts from the crowd.

I'm too terrified to even glance away from my opponent, but a part of me registers the voice as Cody's. The motherfucker is cheering for me.

So are Sam and Rose.

"Kick his ass, Danny boy! I believe in you!"

"Go Dan!"

Just the sound of their voices makes me smile, even though it hurts my jaw.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" John growls, almost furious now at my lack of participation. He throws another punch, I dodge again. He throws, I dodge. It continues on like this. "Fight back!" He moves to grab me this time.

And this time, instead of dodging, I duck. The skin around my ribs screams in protest, but I crouch just long enough to ram my fist into John's gut. He falls, clutching his abdomen in pain.

There's a chorus of cheering amidst the gasps in the crowd, and it suddenly strikes me that I might have more supporters here than just my two friends and my boyfriend.

"Kick him, kick him!" several people chant.

I smirk, suddenly motivated by the encouragement from people I don't even know. While John is still down and clutching  his stomach, I throw my foot into his side just as he had done to me. He cries out, and I do it again. The cheering grows in volume.

I move to kick him a third time, but suddenly his hand clamps around my raised ankle. He yanks, pulling my own legs out from under me and causing me to land hard on the ground beside him. And just like that, my short time having control of this situation has come to an end.

John rolls over until he's on top of me, grabs both of my hands in one of his and holds them tight above my head while he sits on my legs. I try to wiggle my way out from under him, but it's no use. He has at least a hundred pounds on me, and I am trapped without hope of escape.

"You really thought you could beat me, huh?" laughs John, using his free hand to hit me hard in the gut just like I had done to him. I don't even have time to cry out before he hits me there again, and again, and again, knocking the wind out of me each time. "Yeah, I'll bet you did. Stupid fucking fag."

He hits me in the face next, and I feel a hot liquid begin to flow from my nose, drenching the bottom half of my face. He hits me again, causing my lip to split open against my own teeth. I can barely breathe from being crushed by his weight on top of me, and I can feel myself starting to choke on my own blood. Yep, this is it. I'm going to die. God, what a way to go.

"You really shouldn't have fucked with me, kid," John hisses in a low voice, now starting to close his hand around my throat....

Then suddenly, I can breathe again. I turn to my side, coughing and sputtering on the blood that was quickly filling my throat. It's only when I finish gasping that I actually realize the John was pulled off of me by someone.

And I think I know who that someone is.

"Alright, you've made your fucking point!" Sam shouts, still shoving John away from me. "Now stay back!"

"Hey, your boyfriend was doing just fine," John laughs. "No reason for you to ruin the fun--"

"You were killing him, asshole!" Sam cuts him off, the anger in his voice making everyone in the vicinity shut up. "Look at him! He can hardly breathe."

"Not my fault he wasn't as tough as he pretended to be." John scoffs. "And I was done with him anyway." He kneels down so that his face is close to my ear. "You're lucky your girlfriend was here to save you this time....pussy."

"Get away from him," Sam growls through clenched teeth.

John stands up, though he shows not an ounce of fear. Once again, he has successfully proven himself as the school's biggest badass, and that's all he cares about. Through my blurry vision, I see him motion to the group of his friends in the front of the crowd. "C'mon boys. Let's bounce."

Once they've scattered, it doesn't take too much longer for the rest of the crowd to follow suit. Most people just pass me on the ground without a word, but a few do offer words of congratulations.

"Nice job," one kid says. "You lasted longer than anyone I've ever seen."

Once the crowd has dispersed completely, all that remains are Sam, Rose, and Cody. No surprise there. I wish I could thank them all for sticking around to watch me fail, but I'm still having trouble finding the right words. I briefly wonder if I'm concussed.

"Shit," Sam mutters, kneeling down next to me. He throws my leather jacket over his shoulder and uses his own t-shirt to sop up the blood on the side of my face, just like I did for him so many months ago. "You're a fucking mess, Danny."

"Thanks," I cough, spitting out more blood. "I tried my best, though."

"You really did," says Cody in a low voice. "Honestly. You, uh....you fought pretty well."

I grimace at the compliment from someone I'm not quite ready to like yet. I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but only manage to cough up more blood.

"Shit," says Sam again. "Come on. We should get you home. Can you stand up?"

"I can try," I gasp.

"Here, we'll help you," says Rose. She grabs one of my arms, nodding at Cody as a signal for him to grab the other. He does, and is surprisingly gentle about it. Sam supports my back, and together the three of them help lift me onto my feet.

I end up leaning on Sam's shoulder for support. "Thanks guys," I mutter, smiling through my pain. "Appreciate it."

"I'll walk you home," Sam says to me, softly. He glances at Rose. "You need to get home. I told Mom that I'm staying after for a group project. Not sure if you gave an excuse."

"I didn't," Rose realizes suddenly, looking afraid. "I'll hurry home. Hopefully they're not too worried.

"And hey," Sam stops her before she can rush off. "Try to make it into the bathroom before they see you, so you can wash that stuff off your face. Unless you're ready to have that conversation with them."

"Oh, right!" Rose exclaims, as if just now recalling that she's wearing makeup. "Thanks for the reminder."

Once she's gone, the two of us are left only with Cody, who stands apart from us a bit awkwardly. "Don't you have to get home, too?" Sam asks him curiously.

Cody looks unsure. "Um....I mean, I guess. Yeah. Yeah, I better get home." Suddenly appearing rushed, Cody shifts his backpack to both shoulders. "I'll see you guys later. Bye Sam. Dan....good job."

Though I have enough of my energy back to give him a sarcastic reply if I wanted to, I end up just nodding at him. He rushes off in a haste.

"Come on," Sam mutters, pulling my arm all the way across his shoulders. "Let's get you home."

------------

Sam

I haul my idiot boyfriend all the way to his house with his arm around my shoulders so he won't fall on his face. About halfway to his street, he tries to tell me that he thinks he can walk on his own, but I shoot him a glare that causes him to fall silent. I don't let go of him until we get to his front porch.

"Is your nanny going to be mad at you?" I ask him as he leans against the wide door frame, testing out his legs. "Isabella, or whatever her name is?"

"Gabriella," Dan corrects me with a sigh. "And she'll be much more concerned than mad. But it's okay, I'll explain everything."

"Oh?" I'm impressed that Dan was able to come up with a lie so fast.

He pushes open the double doors, and I'm once again overcome by the sheer elegance of the mansion Dan lives in. The shiny wooden floor of the foyer, the spotless white carpet of the staircase, the furniture that all looks fresh out of the store....it's no less breathtaking than the first time I saw it.

I close my mouth before Dan has to tell me to.

"Hey Gabby," Dan calls out, alerting her of his presence. "I'm home."

"Hello Daniel!" A small Mexican woman who looks not much older than us emerges from the kitchen wearing an apron. She shrieks when she sees us. "Dios mío! What happened to you?"

"I was in a fight," says Dan, completely shocking me by telling the truth instead of some expertly-crafted lie. "I fought this junior who was way bigger than me."

"And why on earth would you do that?!" Gabriella asks, even as she races back to the kitchen. She returns almost immediately with a bottle of bleach and begins to spray the floor where Dan dripped blood.

"Because he was an asshole to my boyfriend's sister, and then he threatened me," Dan explains simply. "I had to take him down."

"Well, how very noble of you-- take off your shoes please-- and did you win?"

"Um...not exactly," Dan mumbles as he removes his bloodstained Vans.

"Well, that's unfortunate." She picks up his shoes before spraying the spot where they had been. It's only then that she turns to me. "And I assume you are Dan's boyfriend?"

I blink, unsure of how to respond to that. I wasn't aware that Dan had even talked about me with her, let alone that he had told her I was a boy. "Um...yeah. I'm Sam."

"Nice to meet you." She nods at me politely, but makes a face when she eyes my haircut. "May I ask who cut your hair? They did an awful job."

I grimace, blushing furiously. "Uh, it was me and my sister, actually. We did our best--"

"My apologies, but would you be terribly offended if I offered to fix it for you?" Gabriella asks quickly, unable to move her eyes from my hair. "It is not too horrible. But I can definitely make it not so....choppy."

My blush deepens when I realize that this is the free "barber" that Dan was telling me about earlier. "I...uh..."

"As a matter of fact, I think Sam would really appreciate that," Dan responds for me, winking.

"Good, good." Gabriella pulls an elegant chair from a nearby table in the foyer. "You sit here, Sam. I will be right back with the things I need." She leaves through the kitchen door again.

"And I'm going to go get cleaned up," Dan tells me, motioning to his blood-covered clothes.

"Wait!" I stop him before he can run up the stairs. "Don't think this is over."

"What?"

"I'm still pissed at you," I tell him with narrowed eyes. I try to sound as angry as I felt earlier, when I had to watch John Walker beat the crap out of him while I did nothing but hold his stupid jacket. I can't let him know that by now, my rage has all but dissipated. I'm just glad that he's okay.

"Pissed at me? Why?" Dan asks, with mock surprise.

"You know why. For challenging a junior to a fight. For not backing out when Rose and I told you to, then for almost dying back there." I inhale deeply to level my breathing, then let it out. "I'm never going to let you live this down."

Dan shrugs, then winces at the motion. "Fine. I mean, I did say that you were allowed to make fun of me if I lost, didn't I? It was part of the bet. Which reminds me," he reaches into his pocket, and I just know that he's going to pull out a ten dollar bill.

I shake my head before he can. "Don't you dare give me your money, Daniel."

"But the bet--"

"Screw the bet! Just...." I sigh. "Just go take a shower, dude. I'm sick of looking at your face all bloody and beaten up."

Dan looks at me for a second, his expression confused, before sighing and continuing up the stairs.

------------

Dan

It's the most painful shower I've ever experienced.

It takes almost thirty minutes before I can be sure that I've scrubbed off every bit of dried blood from my face, my neck, and especially my torso. That's the most painful part, my torso. All of those barely one-day-old cuts that lined my ribcage with perfect symmetry, now ripped freshly open from being kicked.

Even once I'm out of the shower, many of the cuts don't stop bleeding. I have to use cotton balls soaked with peroxide just to get them to finally coagulate, which stings like hell.

I fucking hate John Walker. I find myself thinking over and over again, as I apply extra thick coats of ointment in place of bandages over my cuts. I will get him back for this one day.

Once I am certain that I'm done bleeding, I'm finally able to throw on clean clothes and run downstairs to check on Sammy.

When I reach the foyer, it looks like Gabby is almost finished.

"Ah, there you are!" she says when she sees me, using her scissors to trim just a tiny bit more off of Sam's bangs. "I'm just about done. I need you to tell me what you think!"

Smiling at the adorable sight of Sam with one of my black sheets wrapped around him barbershop-style, I come around to get a good look at his face.

"So, what's the verdict?" Sam asks when he sees me, smiling with just his lips. "Do I look like a boy now?"

The way he asks it saddens me. Though I do love his new haircut-- with its clean back, even sides, and adorable short bangs-- I hope he doesn't think I was serious when I teased him about his hair this morning.

I touch his cheek with one of my hands. "Of course you do, Sammy," I tell him softly. "You've always looked like a boy to me. Because you are one."

His eyes widen a bit before gleaming at my words. He rises from the chair, unties the sheet from around his neck so that it falls to the floor along with his chunks of hair, and wraps me in a hug so tight it hurts. I try to refrain from wincing as I hug him back, glad that he can't see my face.

I hear Gabriella sigh, and notice that she's staring at the mess on the floor.

Sam blushes when he notices. "Oh. Sorry. Here, I can clean it up--"

"No no, I won't have that," Gabriella waves him off, laughing. "You are a guest. Go be with Dan. You two should spend time together." She gives us a genuine smile, winking at just me when Sam looks away, before retreating into the kitchen to get a broom.

"Wow, she's so nice," Sam comments.

"Yeah." I take his hand. "Come upstairs with me? I have something I've been wanting to show you."

"Okay," he agrees, seeming nervous.

Anxiously, I lead him up the stairs to the landing of the second floor, then continue on until we reach the thinner door next to my bedroom. I open it to reveal, much to Sam's surprise I'm sure, another set of stairs.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sam mutters when he sees the stairs.

I laugh. "They just lead to the attic. It's not that great, I promise. Just follow me." I grab his hand again and lead him up the small wooden flight.

"What's up here that you have to show me?" Sam asks skeptically when we reach the top. He takes in the vastness of my attic for a moment, noting I'm sure, that the room is basically the size of an entire third floor. "Are you sure this is an attic?"

"That's what we call it," I shrug. "Me and Gabby. It's one room and we use it for storage."

"But....nothing is dusty," Sam comments, his eyes still wide as he glances all around the room.

"Gabby cleans up here because she knows I spend a lot of time in this place."

"You do?" Sam asks. "Doing what?"

Flashing him my best smile, I lead him over by the single, small window and take the sheet off of the item that I led him up here to show him: my piano.

Just as I hoped, Sam is instantly impressed. "Whoa," he sighs, coming closer so that he could examine the shiny black surface. "This is yours?"

"Well, I'm the only one who plays it." I push a couple of keys to show him. "I don't play as much as I used to, though," I admit. "And like I told you before, I'm not very good--"

"Play me something," Sam interjects, appearing hopeful. "Can you?"

I feel my face grow hot. "I don't really know a whole lot."

"What can you play?" Sam asks, his wide hazel eyes full of curiosity.

"Um...." I cringe, suddenly regretting bringing him up here when I realize that the few well-known songs I can play are all about as cliche as it gets: "Mad World" by Gary Jules, "Say Something" by A Great Big World, and "Stay With Me" by Sam Smith. I can also play the first few measures of Beethoven's "Fur Elise", but again, who can't?

"It's okay if you don't want to show me," Sam blurts suddenly, biting his lip. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sound pushy."

"No no, it's okay!" I assure him, laughing lightly to hide my own nervousness. "You're fine. I can do a song. Um...." I sit down on the piano bench awkwardly, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. "Let's see...." I hope he can't tell how hard I'm wracking my brains just trying to think of anything original to play.

"You seem so nervous," Sam notices aloud. "Why?"

Because I want you to be impressed. "I'm just trying to think of a good one."

"Play me anything," Sam whispers. "I promise I'll like it, no matter what." He puts a warm hand on my forearm, which is enough to make me relax.

And that's when I remember that I do know one more song.

"Okay," I say, my lips stretching into a smile as I place my fingers on the right keys. "Here it goes. I think about this song a lot during the cold months."

------------

Rose

The walk home feels colder and longer without Sam or Dan to walk with me, but I try to ignore my feelings of loneliness.

As I walk alone, I hug my (Rose Parker's) jacket tighter around me in an attempt to warm myself, while I kill time trying to rid my mind of the memories of the horrific, bloody fight I just witnessed. I hope Dan is okay....

I shake away the worries. I know he's okay. Sam is taking care of him.

For what feels like the millionth time this year alone, I catch myself feeling jealous of their relationship. I just wish I had something like that.

"Hey kid."

I halt in my tracks at the familiar voice, and turn around. A few feet back, I spot a boy in a dark coat with a black beanie covering all but the fringe of his emo hair. He's grinning at me and waving awkwardly. "I thought I recognized the back of your head."

"Hey Lucas," I respond lamely. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I live a couple blocks down. Eleventh street," He explains.

I blink. "No way."

"What?"

"I live on Twelfth street," I laugh. "Weird that I've never seen you walking before."

"Yeah....weird." He runs a few steps so that he's ahead of me as we approach a street corner, grabs on to the streetlight pole and uses it to spin around, facing me just in time to block my path. "Because I see you all the time."

"Really?" I feel my face grow hot. Yikes, how self-centered can one person be? First with not recognizing Faith from middle school, and now with not knowing Lucas who lives only a street away. I wonder how many other people I've never noticed, who probably think of me as some stuck-up jerk.

"Yeah, but you're always with your twin," Lucas shrugs. "And it's not like I even knew who you were until this semester. It's only just now that I made the connection that we might live close to each other. Anyway," he shakes his head, like he usually does when he catches himself rambling. "So you stayed to watch the fight too, huh?"

"I hadn't planned on it," I grumble.

"I gather that you're close to that kid?" Lucas prods. "Dan, or whatever his name was? I could tell from the way you were cheering for him."

I smile, feeling like "close" doesn't even begin to cover my relationship with my brother's boyfriend. He's probably one of the best friends I've ever had. "Yeah, I guess you could say we're pretty close." I answer.

"So are you guys, like....you know....?" Lucas asks, trailing off with hand gestures that imply I should know what he's trying to ask me.

But I don't, not right away at least, and I'm embarrassed by how long I stare at him blankly before figuring out what he's saying. "Oh! Nonono, no. No way," I blush at the mere notion that someone thought that me and Dan were together, half from embarrassment and half because the idea is so ridiculous. "Not even close."

Lucas laughs too, seemingly out of relief. "Oh. Okay."

"Yeah, no," I repeat, just to be safe. "He's dating my twin."

"Oh, okay. That explains it."

"Yeah."

We fall into an awkward silence as we keep walking, and my thoughts travel back to Sam and Dan. I wonder if they've reached Dan's place yet, and if Sam in tending to his wounds. I wonder how long they're going to spend making out before Sam even considers coming home, or if I'm going to have to text him and remind him.

"So I was thinking Thursday," Lucas blurts.

I snap to attention. "Huh?"

"Sorry, that was random," Lucas chuckles at himself. "I mean, for you to come over and teach me how to draw people. If that'll work for you, I mean."

"You want me to come over?" I didn't mean it to come out sounding so astonished, but the truth is....I've never really been invited to someone else's house before.

Lucas looks worried. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah! I mean, I'll have to ask my parents first, but....yeah."

Lucas breaks into his normal goofy grin. "Neato burrito. That'll be awesome. Anyway, this is my street," he points out, and it's only then that I notice how close I am to my own home as well. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid."

"Um, see you.....Lucas." I can't help but wonder, as he turns away from me and continues down his own street, why he never uses my birth name like everyone else.

------------

Sam

I find myself almost unable to breathe as Dan begins to play the most beautiful combination of notes I've ever heard. If this is a real song, it isn't one that I've ever heard before.

Dan closes his eyes as he plays, quite smooth for someone who claims he isn't very good, and surprises me again when he starts to sing:

"I am colorblind.
Coffee black and egg white.
Pull me out from inside.
I am ready, I am ready, I am ready I am...."

His voice. It's as beautiful as his piano playing. As beautiful as everything else about him. I am absolutely captivated by this sound, by his voice, by the look on his face as he sings the words, and by the cold feeling the lyrics create inside of me.

"I am covered in skin.
No one gets to come in.
Pull me out from inside.
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding I am.....
Colorblind....

I can see why Dan links this song to winter, though I can't really explain it myself. Everything about it, from the tune to the words, brings to mind bitter winds and gray skies like the one outside right now.

When Dan finishes the short song, he lets out a breath and looks at me, nervously. "Sorry," he says for some reason. "I know it was kind of rough."

"Rough?" I repeat in disbelief. "Dan....that was beautiful. How the hell do you think you aren't good at the piano?"

"Well, I mean," he rubs his neck awkwardly. "That song was really just the same notes repeated over and over--"

"Still," I say, refusing to allow him to undercut himself. "That was amazing. But not as amazing as you."

His face reddens, and I can tell he wants to say something that will ruin the moment, but I don't give him the chance. I push him lightly to move him down the piano bench, leaving just enough room for me to sit down with him. Without any more of a warning, I pull his face towards mine.

------------

Rose

I hear the fighting before I even enter the house.

"YOU'RE A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! I CAN'T STAND YOU!"

"THEN WHY THE HELL ARE WE STILL MARRIED? TELL ME THAT, JEN!"

I flinch. I don't want to go inside, but I know that I have to. Besides, it might be good to just run upstairs and wash my face while they're distracted with yelling at each other.

Gently, I open the door.

"....I don't know, Eli. Why don't you ask you secretary? You two seem pretty damned close since you've been FUCKING FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS!"

I flinch again, feeling my anxiety climb to new heights as I climb the stairs to my room as quickly and quietly as possible. Jesus, when did things get this bad?

After washing my face, I close and lock my bedroom door before putting in my headphones and blasting Twenty-one Pilots. Unfortunately, though this does muffle the noise from downstairs a bit, it doesn't cancel it out completely.

Trying to level my breathing, I focus on the lyrics flooding my eardrums:

I ponder of something great
My lungs will fill and then deflate
They fill with fire, exhale desire--

CRASH.

The sound causes me to yank out my earphones, and that's when I hear the crying.

"YOU WANT TO SEE ANGRY? YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET, YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

"Eli! Please...."

"SHUT UP!"

"The kids will hear you--"

WHAM. "I DON'T GIVE--" CRASH. "--A SHIT!"

Suddenly, my music no longer helps. I can feel myself starting to sweat, my heart pounding much faster than it should. I dive underneath my blankets and try to search for a different song on my phone to distract myself, but the continuous yelling and crashing is making my hands shake.

I end up texting my brother instead. Sam. Please hurry home. I'm scared.

------------

Sam

Dan and I have been kissing for god knows how long when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull away from him to check it, causing him to groan in dismay.

"Hang on," I laugh, my breathing heavy from the heat of the kiss. "I just need to make sure it's not important...."

But my quick-beating heart almost stops completely when I see the message from Rose: Sam. Please hurry home. I'm scared.

"Shit," I mutter, returning my phone to its pocket.

'What's wrong?" Dan asks, already attempting to pull me back towards him.

Reluctantly, I stand up. "I have to get home," I tell him. "It's Rose."

He snaps to a more alert mode almost immediately. "Oh no. What about her?"

"I'm not sure. She just texted me that she's scared though, and I have to--"

"Say no more," Dan waves me off, but plants one more kiss on my lips. "Go. Text me later."

I nod, giving him one more smile before I take off, sprinting all the way down the two flights of stairs, out the front door, and not even slowing down until I reach my street.

I'm not even inside the house before the reason for Rose's fear becomes apparent. I could practically hear the screaming and the crashing from inside our house halfway down the block. Jesus.

They don't even notice when I come in, they're too busy going at each other. The first thing I do is go to our room to check on Rose. Unsurprisingly, I find her hiding under her blankets and crying.

"Hey," I whisper, moving back the blankets. She freezes like a deer caught in headlights. "Its just me."

"Why do they have to be like this, Sam?" She cries, not even moving to hug me like she usually does. She seems too scared to move at all. "Why can't they just stop?"

"I....I don't know," I admit quietly, my voice doing nothing to reveal the fury that is brewing like a storm inside of me. I'm so sick of this, so sick of my parents and their awful fighting, and the terrible anxiety it gives my sister. I'm sick of the lies and the abuse and the yelling and the abuse and the lies. "But I'm going to make them stop. I promise."

Rose gasps. "What are you going to do?"

I don't answer her question. "Stay here," I say, before throwing the blankets back on top of her.

The rest of what happens seems to occur with me on some kind of auto pilot. At least, that's what I will swear it felt like later on: auto pilot. As if I wasn't even slightly in control of my actions, but was still somehow completely calm.

I don't stop until I am in the kitchen where my parents are fighting, and standing right in the middle of them. There is glass everywhere, and Mom has a fresh bruise on her face, but I don't let myself feel shock. I remain on autopilot.

I succeed at stealing their attention from each other the second they notice my hair.

"Hi Mom and Dad," I say in a monotone.

My mom stares at me in a silent shock.

Dad is also shocked, but expresses it with anything but silence. "Samantha Lynn Wyatt, what the hell have you done to your hair?!" Dad scolds in disbelief.

This seems to bring my mom out of her silence. "You cut your hair? When did you do this?"

"Young lady, you are in so much trouble," Dad growls, his frightening tone dripping with threats unspoken. "I swear to god, if you don't have a good explanation for this--"

"I'm transgender," I blurt.

------------

CODY

After the fight, I didn't go home like I said I was going to. Not only because the thought of even making eye contact with my parents when I already felt this shitty repelled me, but because it's Tuesday.

I always see Sunny on Tuesdays.

"Hi Nora," I greet the receptionist who is always here on my days. I slide her my ID.

"Good afternoon, Cody," she greets me back in a light tone. It never ceases to strike me as weird how bubbly some of the receptionist who work in the long-term children's ward are. Are they just faking it for the sake of the families, or is such intense happiness a defense mechanism to cope with how depressing their jobs are?

She hands me back my ID after a quick scan. "Alright young man, you're good to go."

"Thank you." And just like always, without more than the words I have to say, I am off to room 647. Where she always is.

And she looks exactly the same. "Hi Sunny," I mutter, shutting the door behind me like I always do. No reason to have any passerby thinking I'm insane, talking to someone who can never say anything back.

I pull up my normal chair next to her bed, take one of her cold, pale hands and holding it in both of my warm ones. "How are you today? Looking as good as ever, I see. Maybe even better. Have you lost weight?" I laugh at my own dark humor that no one else is here to respond to. Sunny lays there like a tiny blonde statue.

"How am I, you ask?" I continue, as if the two of us are carrying on a conversation like normal people."Honestly....not that great. Remember how I told you last week that Mom and Dad are talking about disconnecting your life support? Well....it's looking more serious now."

I stare at her stone-like face, searching it desperately for even the slightest sign of movement. I do this a lot, especially when talking to her about her life support. As if I hope that the tiny, still-active part of Sunny's brain will realize the gravity of the situation and pull the rest of her out of her stupor. But as usual, I am granted nothing. Not even the smallest twitch of her lip, which is all it would take for me to be allowed to press the big red button next to her bed, calling in the doctor and demanding him to check her vitals again, rekindling the long dead hope in everyone that Helena Sunset Foster was not yet lost.

But there's nothing. There never is. She is a husk of a human, completely drained of all life and color. I'd be hard pressed to even find a hint of blue these days. She's nothing but gray. Gray Like Sunset. I half-snort, half-sob at the adjusted title to my ancient poem. It sounds more like one I would write when she died.

Don't say that! my tiny flame of hope, always slightly brighter than everyone else's, screams at me. She's not dead yet. There's still a chance....

I take a sharp breath of sterilized hospital air, almost choking on it. I wish I would choke on it.

"Mom came by to pick up the forms yesterday," I continue. "The ones that, once signed, will give the doctors full permission to pull your plug without liability. Mom and Dad had this huge fight about it. I came up, of course. I always do. I know that they both secretly blame me for this. I know that I blame me for this."

I grip her cold hand tighter as the flashback hits me with the force of a brick. That normal day, me and Sunny playing like we always did, chasing her around the second floor by the stairs, like Dad always warned me not to....and that fateful moment, played in slow motion whenever I remember it, when Sunny tripped and shrieked-- the last sound she ever made-- before toppling head-over-heels all the way down the stairs.

They say the odds were astronomical, for her to hit her head in just the right place. An inch to the left and she might've been struck blind. An inch to the right and she might've simply died. Often I wonder if either of those outcomes would have been better than to have her just...stop.

I can feel my chest starting to tighten, which I usually take as my signal to leave. But this time, I just can't. Because now, I feel like I'll never know when will be the last time I see her.

"Didn't you hear me Sunny?" I whisper through my tears. "They're going to pull your plug if you don't wake up. All I need to get them to reconsider is one movement. A finger, an eyelash, anything! Please, just move for me Sunny. Open your eyes, just for a second. Just so I can tell them that you don't have to die, that there's still hope! Please!"

But as always, begging and pleading does nothing. Sunny's hand stays immobile in mine, and her face is as closed and expressionless as always. If anything, her skin just looks grayer.

"Please Sunny!" I keep begging, crying in earnest. "Just wake up. Please, please just wake up. Just do it for me, Sunny, I'm begging you. Please, Sunny give me anything! I'll take anything. Anything! Please! ANYTHING!"

Still nothing. Nothing. Not a blink, not a twitch, not a word.

Screaming, I pick up my chair and throw it across the room. It crashes loudly into the blank wall on the other side.

Four nurses, two doctors, and the receptionist respond to the noise, barging in with fright etched clearly on their faces, only to find no disturbance but that of a teenaged boy sobbing on the floor next to his sister's bed.

Not one of them is foolish enough to approach me.

------------

Dan

After Sam leaves, the first thing I do is return to my room to examine my bare torso in the mirror. The freshly opened cuts are still various angry shades of red and pink, and a few of them have started leaking tiny drops of blood again, but overall they look much better than they did earlier.

I brush my fingers over them, shivering at the unevenness of my own skin. It strikes me again how much I hate it, but love it at the same time. I just wish I had the strength to stop, if not for me then for Sam.

Earlier when we were kissing, I'm ashamed to say, my mind was split between thinking about the sensation of his lips against mine, and that of the cuts beneath my shirt. It was so frustrating, feeling like I couldn't relax and just enjoy kissing him, because I was so terrified that he would feel the marks through my shirt. Or-- even worse-- what if things between us got so intense that his hands ended up under my shirt? I imagine nothing could kill the mood quite like feeling evidence of your partner's self harm against their skin.

These thoughts continue to plague me for hours after Sam leaves, even as the sky outside my window darkens, and I begin to worry why I haven't received a text from Sam yet.

I think about the knife from the kitchen that still hides in the top drawer of my dresser, and wonder whether or not Gabriella has noticed it missing.

I think about taking it out of my drawer and returning it to the kitchen, but then am afraid that I'll just end up using it instead. What to do?

The safest option, I almost always decide, is to do nothing. I spend the rest of the evening laying on my bed with my head turned towards my window, enjoying the slow yet subtle process of the colors draining from the outside world, to be replaced by twelve hours of darkness.

I can only hope for the slightest dusting of sleet in the night.