“Aria Lauren, watch your words. You’re this close to the edge,” she scolded me. When Mom got upset, her face tightened and the smile lines around her mouth disappeared. She also tugged on her right ear when extremely irritated.

She was right.

I was hanging from the edge, reaching out toward her to pull me up, but she was too busy tugging her ear to death.

“Tomorrow I’ll pick you up after school and we’re going to head to the doctor and get you checked out. For now, head to your room so I can talk to your father.”

My feet dragged toward my bedroom, and I paused on the wooden floor panels before turning on my heel to face her again. “Can you ask Dad not to hate me too much?”

Her mouth softened and those smile lines returned. “I’ll make sure that it’s the perfect amount of hatred.”

It’d been fifty-four minutes of yelling and screaming between my parents. Even though they were really upset with me, they were determined to take it out on one another. I sat cross-legged on my bed, ear buds in ears, and a blank canvas in front of me. The music was cranked to a deafening volume to avoid hearing my parents fall apart. I would lose myself in my artwork and music to try to forget that I’d broken my family.

At least that was the plan until Mike came and stood in my doorway. His lips moved at a nonstop speed, but luckily my music was shutting out whatever he was saying. Lifting my iPod, I stupidly turned down the sound.

“You ruined this, you know. My senior year is supposed to be epic, but instead I’m going to be the guy with a knocked up younger sister.”

“You’re right. I should’ve really thought about how this would affect my older, popular brother. It was a lot easier when nobody noticed me, right?” I sarcastically rolled my eyes. Mike was a huge guy, the star running back of the football team and on his way to being offered full rides to play football at some of the biggest colleges in the Midwest. With his blue eyes and light brown hair, he looked more like Dad than Mom.

“You’re so fucking stupid. You really don’t know what you’ve done, do you? Listen to them.” He gestured toward the living room.

“Shut up, Mike.” I turned the volume back up on my music. He kept yapping for a good few minutes before he dramatically flipped me off and stormed away. My brother, my hero.

Hours passed before the lights in the house faded to black. Mom and Dad never came to check on me. I hadn’t been able to paint, either. The brush rested in my grip, ready, but I never pushed it against my canvas.

Grace poked her head into my room, but she didn’t know what to say to her big sister who was pregnant.

She walked back and forth for a while trying to figure out something to say, glancing into my bedroom before giving me a sly smirk. “You know KitKat is going to be an aunt to someone that’s only a year younger than her? That’s creepy.”

Twelve-year-olds were a lot more forward than I wanted them to be, that was for sure.

“Get lost, twerp.”

“You’re a twerp, twerp!” she mocked back, placing her hands on her hips and rolling her neck back and forth as if she was nothing more than a body of sass. “I have questions.”

“Of course you do.”

“Do you pee on yourself?”

“What?” I arched an eyebrow.

“Do. You. Pee. On. Yourself? My teacher Mrs. Thompson was pregnant last year and she peed all over the hallway when we were walking to music class.”

“I don’t pee on myself.” Not yet at least. Was that something I should be worried about? Would I start randomly peeing on myself for some strange reason? Note to self—Google pissing during pregnancy.

“I bet you’re going to be super fat too. Some people are really pretty pregnant, like Mrs. Thompson, but I don’t think you are going to be one of those people.”

“You can leave any time, Grace.”

“I’m not changing any dirty diapers. Do you even know how to change a diaper?!”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Shouldn’t you not be pregnant?”

Touché.

I did the only mature thing I could think of.

I took off my dirty socks and threw them at her face, hitting her right in her mouth.

“Eww! You’re nasty!” she whined, washing her tongue against the palm of her hand. “I’m telling!”

Right, because our parents’ biggest issue at that moment was the fact that I’d put dirty socks in my sister’s mouth.

I went digging into my dresser and pulled out a pair of underwear and one of my oversized T-shirts to sleep in. I knew I should’ve been in bed already. School didn’t really care if I was tired in the morning. School didn’t care that my life was going through a complete upheaval. School didn’t care that I was moments away from a breakdown.

School just wanted me there by the first bell.

I hopped into the shower to try to clear the fog that was residing inside my head. The water rained down on me for over an hour before I stepped out and dried myself off with a towel. The mirror in front of me felt mocking. My fingers fell to my stomach, and I stared into the mirror trying to understand how I could look the same, but be so different.

I slid the T-shirt over my head, and I glanced at myself once more before walking out of the bathroom. I cringed when I saw Dad lying on the living room couch. He looked like a giant trying to get comfortable on a seashell, twisting and turning unsuccessfully.

My lips parted. My brain searched for the right words.

After standing still for a minute, it was clear there weren’t any right words.

So I left.

Monday morning Mike refused to drive me to school.

He said it was because he had to be there an hour early to lift weights before school started, but that had never stopped him in the past. I always ended up going to the art room and messing around for an hour before school.

Even so, he was very adamant that I wouldn’t ride with him. I wanted to complain to my parents about it, but the timing couldn’t have been worse, so the bus was my only choice.

The bus stop was two blocks away from my house. When I tossed my backpack on and left, I saw Simon already standing on the corner. The moment I stood beside him, he could tell everything I hadn’t yet vocalized—best friend extrasensory perception.

“You told them?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Mike’s making you take the bus?”

I nodded again.

“Are you all right?”

I shook my head, my eyes studying the curbside. “But if we could get through today not talking about it, that would be great.”

“Right. Well, I’ll make sure to bury you so far into my own issues that you’ll completely forget about your own. Trust me, I got a lot going on in this weird brain of mine.”

Before he could say anything else, a pair of blue Chucks appeared beside me. My head rose up to the person standing next to me. My eyes met the pair of brown eyes that smiled without even trying, and I got lost.

Deer Boy.

His lips loosened into a small grin, matching his eyes.

I smiled back. At least I thought I did. I couldn’t tell. His grin widened, making my stomach swarm with butterflies.

You’re beautiful.

He was so beautiful that it was almost offensive. He looked like a whisper sounds. Sweet, gentle, and romantic. It was making me dizzy.

I shouldn’t be looking at him.

Really.

Stop staring.

Maybe one more glance?

Maybe two more glances?

My head dropped again. I stared at our shoes. My hands gripped the straps of my backpack, and I pulled them closer to me, my elbows pushing against my sides.

“Hi,” he said. Swarming butterflies, sweaty palms. I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Simon or me, so I remained quiet. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him still smiling. I’d wished he would stop doing that smiling thing. Except, not really. “Is this where the bus picks us up?”