Homework has been the only thing keeping me busy and distracted at home. I shut myself in my room, never seeing the light of day until I go to school the next morning. I walk or take the bus, and Alistair picks me up when he’s free, but I don’t approach Ruth. She hasn’t questioned me once or tried to knock some sense into me. All she did was mask her hurt so I wouldn’t feel responsible.
She knows me so well and loves me so much, but because I love her the same, it’s so hard to feel fine.
I write my name on top of my math worksheet, and what was once subconscious is more apparent now. Every time I see or remember my name reminds me that it might not be real one.
There’s a knock on the door, and Ruth opens it a smudge. “Hi honey." I don’t respond, but my silence allows her to ease into
