4

I tell my parents about my first day of school, but they don't look very interested. The only thing that they find mildly exciting is that the teachers are great and that they were all really nice. Then they went back to not caring.

Whatever. I just want to go read.

Yes. I enjoy reading. Scratch that. I love reading. I have to read a little every day or I'll die. Okay, maybe not that serious, but it's hard not to read for me. This year I'm actually counting how many books I read. I'm now at 72 books. It's not bad, but I could do better.

Anyway, I go upstairs to my room and pick out a new book from my bookcase. Then I make myself fall on the bed and start reading. After a few chapters, I hear my mother calling from the kitchen, telling me it's time for dinner. I'm not really hungry, but I go downstairs anyway.

After eating, I go back to my room and read a few more chapters, then decide to call it a night. I change and slip into bed, but before falling asleep I pull out my phone and check my messages. Five of them are from Karen:

Hey, gurl

Wassup

How was your 1st day?

Well, U were w/ me, so it must have been AWESOME

Here's the link I said I'd send U

I click on the attachment. After a couple of seconds, the article pops up. As I read, my eyes widen.

Oh, that poor girl. I think.

How could I have not known? I should be there for her and help her get through it. Granted, I've only known her for a few hours, but still.

Oh, wait. You don't know what I'm talking about.

Well, dear reader, last year Sarah was sexually abused by her English professor. The article said that her classmates claimed that the professor had been eyeing Sarah the whole year, but never did anything. Then one day, when Sarah had stayed a little while longer to put away her books, the professor had locked the door. There weren't any cameras in the classroom, but Sarah's screams, yells, and cries were all they needed to hear to understand what was happening.

They arrested the teacher after one of Sarah's classmates (I suppose it was Suzy) called the police, saying that her teacher had locked himself in the room with a student.

Now you know. That's why I want to help Sarah. I want to make sure she's okay, even if I don't know her very well. I feel horrible. Knowing what happened to Sarah makes me realize how lucky I am. I often tell myself that my life sucks, even though there are people who've gone through much worse stuff.

Heartbroken, I turn off my phone and drift off.

The next day, without even making sure that Karen is behind me, I sprint towards the main entrance, where Suzy and Sarah are about to enter.

"Sarah, wait!" I say.

"Hey, Emma," she answers turning around. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry, but I was curious," I say.

She looks confused for a second, then seems to realize what I'm referring to. Her smile wavers and she looks down. Before she can speak, I keep talking. "I just want to say that I'm sorry. I want to let you know that if you need to talk about it, or if you just need a shoulder to cry on, you can count on me. I've been through some stuff too, and I know it can be hard." I grab her arm sympathetically. "Let me know if you need anything. If you need a friend."

Her usual smile reappears. "Thanks. That means a lot."

I'm about to turn around and leave, but Sarah asks me a question. "What stuff have you been through?"

"Anxiety. A couple of panic attacks. I actually still have social anxiety, but I'm trying to work on it." I explain.

"Well," Sarah says. "If you need a friend to cry on, you can count on me too."

"And me," Suzy says behind her.

I smile and lean in for a hug, which they happily give me. I don't normally go around and hug people, but it seems like a good hug moment. I turn around to get back to my classes, but first I have to go meet Karen. She's been waiting for me the whole time, probably wondering what I've been doing.

Sure enough, when she sees me, she scowls and asks, "Why do you keep running away from me?"

"Sorry, but I had to talk to Sarah. I read the article yesterday." I say.

"Oh," she says. "Pretty horrible, huh?"

"Yeah," I answer. "What a pervert."

She smirks. "You know who isn't a pervert? Mr. Martinez. He is so hot."

"Who's the pervert now?"

"Oh, shut up. He's a Physical Education teacher, of course he's hot!"

"You're weird," I comment.

"Thank you." Karen answers.

And with that, we head to the gym.

Monday at lunch, Sarah tells me about the party.

"It's going to be epic!" she yells. "Everyone's is going to be there! Even Jackson…"

"Wait," I interrupt. "Who's Jackson?"

"Her crush," Suzy mutters.

"Shut up!" Sarah exclaims.

It's been three weeks since the first day of school, and I'm happy to say that I'm having a bit more luck in the making-friends departments. I now have some basic I-know-your-name relationships with a few really nice girls. Most of them I met when they asked me for help with some math problems, but I don't mind. I'm happy to help them: it makes me feel special.

Anyways, since it's already the end of September, the Homecoming party is coming up. This Friday, actually. Sarah has been yapping non-stop about it.

"Since the party is at seven-thirty, I thought you guys could come to my house at about five-thirty, that way we'll have time for dresses, hair, and make-up. Okay?" she asks. Then, even before we can answer, she squeals. "Oh my god, I can't wait!"

She points at Suzy, "You're coming." Then at Karen, "You're coming." Finally, she points to me. "And you're coming!"

"Oh, no," I say. "I don't go to parties."

"Why not?" Karen asks.

Well, I have multiple reasons for which I don't go to parties. First, as I've already said, I have social anxiety. I know I'm supposed to work on it, but being in the middle of a big crowd really freaks me out. Second, I'm scared of having to deal with drunken teenagers wandering around. I know that technically homecomings aren't supposed to have alcohol, but teens always find a way. Third, I prefer staying at home with a cup of tea and a good book. Call me crazy, but I don't care.

"I just don't feel like it," I say. Why did I lie? Well, because I don't want to seem like a weirdo. They still don't know about my bibliophilia (love of books. Yes, it's a real thing).

"Oh, c'mon Emma!" Sarah complains. "Please?"

I open my mouth to protest, but as I look into Sarah's big brown eyes, I know there's no hope. I sigh. "Fine."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she says. Sarah is sitting opposite of me, but still finds a way to hug me over the table.

"By the way," Sarah continues. "Has anyone of you been asked out yet?"

We all shake our heads.

"Really? Nobody?" Sarah asks again.

"Nope," I say. "Alone as always."

"I hear you, sister," Suzy says. She gives me a high-five.

"Well, if anyone gets asked out…" she says. "I hate you." She finishes by looking at us with a mad stare. I didn't even know Sarah could ever look so frightening. Oh, well. I guess we all have our dark side.