Of course, the reprieve doesn't last long. And deep down, I don't think I wanted it to. It gives me too much time to think when others avoid me and don't talk. That's one thing I hate. Considering my life and what goes on in it is one thing I can't handle.

The reprieve ended as soon as we reached the school doors. One of the boys from my bus stretches his foot out in front of me, and being the klutz that I am, I trip over it and smack into the pavement. I would've hit face first too if someone hadn't caught my shoulders just in time.

Everyone streams around me to go into the building as I work up the courage to look up at a person I believe to be my next assailant. When I do look up, any ideas of that flee. The look on the guy's face is sympathetic with just a touch of anger. But I knew when anger was directed at me. He wasn't furious with me, but rather, he was angry at the guy who tripped me.

I remain there on my knees on the cold pavement as the guy steadies me. He lets his eyes roam over my body briefly, but he's obviously looking for injuries. Next words out of his mouth are, "Did the fall break anything?"

I'm not porcelain. I think. Then I feel bad. Maybe not, but no one else has ever showed any interest in your health, much less this much concern. Give the guy a break. "No, just some scrapes." I accept his hand up and look down at my jeans. The knees, which were previously intact, now have rips and blood stains from the scrapes I got when I fell.

"You look cold," the boy comments. At the same time, he pulls off his own jacket and settles it over my shoulders.

I start to protest, but he puts his finger to his mouth and smiles. "It's fine. You need it more than I do. Do those guys always treat you like that?"

Afraid of what he'd do if I told the truth, I shook my head. "No... They're mad at me for something right now."

"And the other kids are too?" A touch of sarcasm enters his voice as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

I eye him warily, but he doesn't make a move to hit me for lying. I'm sure he knows, but he's letting me lie to him without doing anything about it. No one does this for me. So I take the chance. "Thanks for the jacket... When I can I return it?"

"You can keep it... I have another one at home, and yours — no offense — looks like it's as thin as a sheet." He shrugs. "You'll catch a cold if you keep wearing it."

"Oh, I can't do that... uh..."

"Milan. Milan Servson." He flashes me a big smile. "You?"

I can't tell him the truth. He's too nice, and that's a danger to me. What if he decides to drop by? Any of the kids from my bus or around the school could tell him where I live. "Heidi." It's the first thing that comes to mind. I've been reading Heidi in the school library when I get the chance. I can't bring it home or I'd get in trouble with my mom for it. She doesn't want me reading at home because she says it keeps me from doing more productive things. I'm lucky she lets me do homework.

"Heidi?" He raises a brow. "You don't look like a Heidi."

I shrug, trying to play it off. "My mom has a weird taste in names, I guess." True enough. My name is strange. But tragically ironic considering it means joyful. My life's been anything but.

"Yeah... I'll see you after school?" Milan asks.

I shake my head quickly, eyes widening involuntarily. "No... Uh... I mean... I just have to do something else." I don't, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Really? Because you—" The bell rings loudly, cutting him off.

I grab my backpack from the ground where it had fallen from my shoulder. Flinging it onto my shoulder again, I smile at him and brush past. "I'm going to be late! Sorry..."

"But..." He tries to take my arm, and I freeze at his touch.

I don't turn around as I stand there, fighting off nausea and terror. "Please don't... Don't touch me."

He immediately jerks his hand back. "Sorry! Sorry... I didn't know you didn't like being touched."

"I know. Just please don't..." I hate myself for the tremor in my voice, but I can't help it. I've been terrified of others touching me ever since the day she first beat me. Earlier, I was more worried about being hurt or avoiding his questions, but now I'm not. I just don't want to be touched again.

"I'm sorry, Heidi." The fake name sounds so wrong rolling off his tongue, but I shrug it off and rush up the steps without another word.

Can't make friends. Can't let anyone get close. They'll hurt you. And hurt Mom for what she does to you.

***

I sit quietly in a back corner of the cafeteria, savoring each bite of my sandwich. It isn't much to eat for lunch, and the smells of macaroni and cheese, pizza, and spaghetti mingle together in the cafeteria, torturing me with the smell. My mouth waters as I take another bite of the stale sandwich. It's been so long since I've had spaghetti or pizza.

On occasion, my mom lets me make macaroni and cheese for dinner. Those are rare nights. Usually I eat a piece of deli meat and cheese with a slice of bread and butter while she eats lasagna or something else I cooked.

I really miss the old mom. She used to make pizza every Tuesday, and we'd sit together for dinner. We'd watch movies after we ate, and we always did dishes together. She helped me with my homework while the food was cooking if I needed her to, and if I didn't, we got an early start on movie night. Sometimes she read to me before bed too.

I know that woman is still in there somewhere. She has to be. Sometimes people break, Meri. Sometimes they never return to normal after their psychotic break. My appetite disappears. She'll go back to normal. If I can just be good enough, then she'll get better. It's just me that gets in the way of her recovery. I'm always doing things to set her off again. She never gets a chance to fully recover because of me. Just when she's starting to do better, I mess it all up.

A tear slides down my cheek. I just wish I knew what to do for her. I wish I could snap my fingers and make everything all better. It's not even that I want the beatings and abuse to stop. I can handle that because I deserve it. No, I just want my mom to be happy again. She's never happy anymore, and the misery that lurks in her once bright blue eyes kills me a little more each time I see it.

I set the sandwich aside with a sigh and bury my head in my arms. Tears continue to trek down my cheeks, hot and lonely. A gentle hand settles onto my shoulder, and I squeak, jerking away.

"Hey, I'm sorry... I'm not trying to hurt you," Milan reassures softly.

I shake my head, my lower lip trembling. "W-what? You should go. T-the other kids will be upset if they see you talking to me. They'll get mad at you."

"Why?" He slides into the booth across from me, genuinely confused. "Anyway, I'm the new kid... I don't have any friends to lose over this."

"I guess," I whisper. "But you'll lose the chance to make them."

"Why are you so afraid of me?" he asks.

"I'm not," I lie. You'll only hurt him too, Meri. You can't do this to him. He doesn't deserve to get sucked into the trap you represent. You're nothing but a magnet for pain and broken hearts. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Heidi..."

"Hey, why are you hanging out with her, Milan?" one of the guys from the bus says, walking up to my table.

I duck my head, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Meri, we told you to stay away from him," Karla's nasally voice hits my eardrums. I instantly feel bad. She's right. I was told to stay away, and I should've listened. Karla's just trying to protect Milan from me. She's right to do that, and instead of appreciating her concern for someone else, I ignored her advice.

"I'm s-sorry, Karla. I'll leave."

"No, stay." Milan's fingers brush my wrist and then lace through my fingers. "You don't have to go because they said to. And I came over to talk to her, you two. She didn't approach me first. So buzz off and leave her alone."

I look up at them from behind my veil of hair. Karla's pouting, and her companion, who I now recognize as Erick, glares down at me. "Is that so?" he sneers. "We gave you a chance to be a part of our circles, Serveson. Is this what you choose to do with it? You choose to consort with this harlot?"

Milan's fingers grip mine tighter, and a tear slips down my cheek. I duck my head, trying to hide my pain, ashamed of myself. You worthless piece of garbage. How could you possibly think yourself worthy to be around him? He's normal and good. You're a pathetic brat. How could you forget that, Meri? I try not to think this way, but it's hard not to when you believe every word of what you're mentally telling yourself. So I sit across from Milan, berating myself for my stupidity and weakness.

Karla's high-pitched voice breaks in, fueling the fire of self-incrimination. "She's trying to trick you, Milan. Everyone here knows how poor she is. She's just trying to see what she can get out of you. We've seen it before. Poor Millie Foster gave that witch everything she could, and the ungrateful wretch threw their friendship back in her face when she didn't get what she wanted."

My throat tightens as Millie's face comes to mind. No. I didn't try to extort Millie. She tried to help me, and my mom ran her off. She was a danger to us. And I was putting her in danger too. Exposing her to the darkness in the guys my mom dates. I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to, no, but I didn't know how to say no or keep kindness from melting my barriers.

Just like my mom doesn't know how to say no when guys are nice to her. I don't think she fully understands that they're just tricking her. Even though it happens with nearly every guy she dates, and even though there's always something wrong with each man she brings home, she still keep saying yes.

More than that, I think she just wants to feel loved. I'm absolutely worthless in that arena. I don't know how to show her love. She hates me because I've hurt her beyond forgiveness. Just like I hurt Millie beyond the point of forgetting and forgiving.

I pull my hand from Milan's and take off his jacket. "Thanks." Before he can say anything, I jerk my backpack onto my shoulders and slide out of my seat. In my haste, I bang into Karla, who shoves me with a disgusted snarl.

The shove knocks me off balance, and I trip, slamming right into some other guy and causing him to spill his soda all over me and down his white shirt. Mortified, I stammer out an apology and run from the cafeteria.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I race for the only place I know will be empty. The library. It's been my safe-haven for years. Ever since I started going to this high school, the library has provided sanctuary.

I race down the partially empty hallways, my footsteps echoing. Fortunately for me, there aren't any teachers or staff members in the halls. If there were, I'd be in trouble for unruly conduct right now. At this point, however, I don't care. I need to get away from this. I wish things were different. If only I knew how to change them.