Everyone knows you. You’re the girl teachers smile at a little longer, the one people wave to in the hallway, the one who could sit anywhere at lunch and be welcomed without question.

He knows this better than anyone. That’s why he doesn’t sit with you. That’s why he never exists to you in front of others.

They call him names. Loud enough for him to hear. Loud enough for you to hear too.

You never look back when it happens—not because you don’t care, but because you know if you do, if you react, it’ll get worse. For him. For both of you.

You’re at Will’s house. Joyce still at work, Jonathan gone. It’s quiet—except from the yelling coming from his room

“I’m tired of this! Tired of—Every day’s the same, you ignore me—You treat me like i’m nothing!”