She throws the blanket off herself and climbs out of bed.

“Fuck, I missed my chemistry class.”

“You take chemistry?” I don’t mean for it to sound so rude,

but the shock of her taking chemistry comes through in my voice.

Violet and I have shared a room for three months, and from what I

can tell, she likes to party and she likes guys.

She gives me a dirty look as she slips her arm through the

sleeve of her leather jacket. “What? You don’t think I can party and

be smart?”

I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just—”

“I know what you meant—what you think of me, and

everyone else thinks of me.” She snatches her bag from the desk,

sniffs her shirt, and shrugs. “But some advice: Maybe you shouldn’t

judge people by their looks.”

“I don’t,” I tell her, feeling bad. “I’m sorry if you think I judged

you.”

She collects her phone from the desk and tosses it into her

bag, then heads for the door. “Listen, if some guy named Jesse

comes by, can you pretend that you haven’t seen me all day?”

“Why?” I ask, sitting up.

“Because I don’t want him to know I’ve been here.” She

opens the door and glances back over her shoulder. “God, you’ve

been a little snippy lately. When I first met you, I thought you were like a doormat. But lately, you’ve been kind of cranky.”

“I know,” I say quietly, with my chin tucked down. “And I’m

sorry. I’ve just been having a rough few weeks.”

She pauses in the doorway, eyeing me over. “Are you…” She

shifts her weight, looking uncomfortable. Whatever she’s trying to

say seems to be hard for her. “Are you okay?”

I nod and something crosses over her face, maybe pain, and

for a second I wonder if Violet’s okay. But then she shrugs and

walks out, slamming the door behind her. I release a loud breath

and lie back down on the bed. The need to shove my finger down

my throat and free the heavy, foul feelings in my stomach

strangles me. Damn it. I need therapy. I reach for my phone

without sitting up and dial my therapist’s number, aka Seth, and

my best friend in the whole world.

“I love you to death, Callie,” Seth says as he answers after

three rings. “But I think I’m about to get lucky so this better be

important.”

I scrunch my nose as my cheeks heat. “It’s not… I just wanted

to see what was up. But if you’re busy, I’ll let you go.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, that came out a lot ruder than I planned.

If you really need me, I can totally talk. You know you’re my first

priority.”

“Are you with Greyson?” I ask.

“Of course,” he replies with humor in his tone. “I’m not a

man-whore skank.”

A giggle slips through my lips and I’m amazed how much

better I feel just from talking to him. “I promise I’m fine. I’m just bored and was looking for an escape from my English book.” I

shove the book off the bed and roll onto my stomach, propping

myself up onto my elbows. “I’ll let you go.”

“Are you really, really sure?”

“I’m one hundred percent sure. Now go have fun.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m planning on it,” he replies and I laugh, but

it hurts my stomach. I start to hang up when he adds, “Callie, if you need to hang out with someone, you could call Luke… You two are

kind of going through the same thing. I mean, with missing

Kayden and not really understanding.”

I bite at my fingernails. I’ve spent time with Luke, but I’m still

uncomfortable being alone with guys, except for Seth. Besides,

things are weird between Luke and me because we haven’t

officially talked about what happened at Kayden’s. It’s the white

elephant in the room, the massive, sad, heartbroken elephant. “I’ll

think about it.”

“Good. And if you do, make sure to ask him about yesterday

in Professor McGellon’s class.”

“Why? What happened?”

He giggles mischievously. “Just ask him.”

“Okay…” I say, unsure if I really want to. If Seth thinks it’s

funny then there’s a good chance that whatever happened might

embarrass me. “Have fun with Greyson.”

“You too, baby girl,” he says and hangs up.

I hit END and scroll through my contacts until I reach Luke’s

number. My finger hovers over the DIAL button for an eternity and

then I chicken out and drop the phone down onto the bed. I get

up and slip on my Converses—the ones stained with the green

paint—because they remind me of a happy time in life. I zip up my

jacket, put my phone into the pocket, and collect my keycard and

journal before heading outside.

It’s colder than a freezer, but I walk aimlessly through the

vacant campus before finally taking a seat on one of the frosted

benches. It’s snowing but the tree branches create a canopy above

my head. I open my journal, pull the top of my jacket over my

nose, and begin to scribble down my thoughts, pouring out my

heart and soul to blank sheets of paper because it’s therapeutic.

I remember my sixteenth birthday like I remember how to

add. It’s there locked away in my head whenever I need it,

although I don’t use it often. It was the day I learned to drive. My

mom had always been really weird about letting my brother and

me anywhere near the wheel of a vehicle until we were old enough

to drive. She said it was to protect us from ourselves and other

drivers. I remember thinking how strange it was, her wanting to

protect us, because there were so many things—huge,

life-changing things—she’d never protected us from. Like the fact

that my brother had been smoking pot since he was fourteen. Or

the fact that Caleb raped me in my own room when I was twelve.

Deep down, I knew it wasn’t her fault, but the thought always

crossed my mind: Why hadn’t she protected me?

So at sixteen, I finally got behind the driver’s seat for the very

first time. I was terrified and my palms were sweating so badly I

could barely hold onto the wheel. My dad had also had a lifted

truck and I could barely see over the dash.

“Can’t we please just drive mom’s car?” I asked my dad as I

turned the key in the ignition.

He buckled his seat belt and shook his head. “It’s better to

learn on the big dog first, that way driving the car will be a piece of cake.”

I buckled my own seat belt and wiped my sweaty palms on

the front of my jeans. “Yeah, but I can barely see over the wheel.”

He smiled and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Callie, I know

driving is scary, like life. But you’re perfectly capable of handling this; otherwise I wouldn’t let you.”