Kyran caught up with me, as I was gaping at him and he whispered, "I'm not embarrassed by you," he handed me my notebook, "You should invest in more dresses by the way."

I took the notebook from his hands, and looked down, my eyes falling on the dress that I was wearing. As Kyran disappeared among the sea of people in the corridor, there seemed to be people staring at me now.

They were staring at my legs.

I had the intense urge to run to the bathroom, and instead, I held my A5 notebook near my knees. It did absolutely nothing.

Obviously.

If anyone wanted to say something, they kept their mouths shut throughout the day. It was helpful that I wasn't someone people wanted to make a conversation with. Usually, others would have friends or foes that would either compliment or criticize what they're wearing. In my case, I had neither friends nor foes. Unless you count that person who threw ink at me, I guess.

I was self-conscious in general. I think thrice before doing something whether I am at home or school. It's actually the characteristic that both my facades share. At home, I was ultra careful how I acted in front of my family and at school, I was conscious of what I said and how I said it.

Was I losing myself? The real me?

My concentration dwindled severely throughout the school day. I pretended the looks don't exist. Don't get me wrong, I knew that people talked about me behind my back, and that never hurt because I didn't see them doing it. So, there's a possibility that they didn't.

However, when they unsubtly stare at you and whisper to the person next to them without leaving their eyes off me, it's hard to believe that there was a possibility that they weren't talking about me.

I spent the entire day uncomfortably walking around. There were innumerable times that I stole glances around me, making sure that there wasn't anyone around.

Horrible day.

At the end of the day, I pulled off the dress and wore my dry jeans again, along with my mom – approved yellow jumper that I could stretch out indefinitely. It covered me, which was all that mattered, and I pulled my coat over the jumper.

I had taken an educated guess that Yashna would be around her homeroom at the end of the day. When I saw the familiar black hair, I approached her slightly apprehensive because she was around her friends, who were collectively giggling.

"Hey Yashna. Thanks for the dress," I replied shortly, and Yashna turned around.

"Hi Avery!" she exclaimed, gesturing to her friends who smiled back. She took the dress and frowned. "You could've just worn the dress for the rest of the day and given it back to me tomorrow."

"It's fine. I'm not going to encounter anyone on the way home."

Yashna shrugged. Her friends had left the scene suddenly and said their goodbyes. They seemed to understand that I wanted to talk to Yashna alone.

"See you tomorrow Yash," a tall, brunette called out as she followed her other friends leaving the building.

"You were a topic of interest today," she told me, grabbing a textbook from her locker. Her locker was intensely decorated, something that was not surprising, given Yashna's colorful personality. "People were talking about your sudden change in style!"

I could feel the temperature of my body raise a couple of degrees at least. That was something I didn't need to know. I didn't reply and kept aggressive staring at the Business textbook in Yashna's hand. While I was thankful for her, since she saved the day with the dress, I didn't need to know that people were commenting about me. And, I definitely didn't need to know what they were saying about me.

However, when my mouth opened, my brain was telling me to shut up. "What were they saying?"

Yashna smiled nervously. "Nice things mostly. People thought you looked pretty great. Obviously, some people were wondering why you suddenly chose to wear a dress," she looked around her, and lowered her voice. "Some assholes were saying that you're trying to impress someone."

I frowned. "Yeah, because the only reason girls wear nice clothes is because we want guys to like us."

"Some people are dumb," she started picking at her fingernails. "Did you find out who was behind the prank?"

"No." The truth is, as much as I wanted to find out who did it, I didn't want to make things worse. If the person had gotten the idea that I was looking for them, there is a high probability that they'll try to make my life harder than it already is.

I so didn't need more drama in my non-dramatic life.

"If you don't mind me asking," Yashna began, "Is there something going on between you and Kyran?"

I nearly choked on whatever was in the air. "No!" I cleared my throat, "Why would you think that?"

"Well, what was he doing in an empty classroom with you in the morning?" she asked, and I sighed. It hadn't crossed my mind that she didn't know about Kyran's tutoring situation. I suspected that Kyran wouldn't be too happy with me telling his sister but-

"Fine, just don't tell your parents and don't tell Kyran that I told you-" I said, and her eyes widened.

"I knew it!" she squealed, "You're not really Kyran's type but maybe you'll do him some good!"

"Wait, what? No!" I said, stopping her rant before she got too far with her conspiracy theory. "No! Ms. Walton asked me to tutor him because he nearly failed sophomore year and he needs to improve his GPA for football scouts!"

She frowned. "Oh, sorry. I don't know why I assumed. Just seemed like you both had chemistry."

I sighed at her ridiculous joke. "Not funny Yashna." At that, she laughed even louder, and I shook my head in exasperation. "Don't tell Kyran or your parents. He nearly fell into a coma seeing me in your house that day."

Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh! That's why he looked like someone stole his spot at Notre Dame!" She grinned. "Don't worry, I won't tell Kyran that you told me. It'll hurt his poor ego too much!"

"Tell me what?" Kyran's voice said, startling us. Yashna looked at him with a fake smile and I mustered the most innocent facial expression possible. That's probably how he knew that I told Yashna.

Scowling, he approached us. "You told her?"

"Well, look. She was thinking that we were dating, and I don't know – making out in the classroom before classes in the morning," I told him as he opened his mouth to recoil, "I can't blame her for thinking that, so I told her".

Kyran shrugged. "You tell Mom or Dad and I'll tell them how you went to the mall yesterday instead of coming to school," he warned, pointing at Yashna who was suddenly fearful.

"Fine. Whatever," she muttered. Closing her locker and grabbing her backpack off the floor, she pulled it on one shoulder and walked over to Kyran.

"Avery. Wanna come over to hang out today?" she asked me. "I'd really like you to hang out with us at school! I can introduce you to the rest of the gang too. They're already super excited to meet you. I mean, unless you feel that you're too above sophomores-"

I laughed. "I have work to do, but maybe I'll come over another day."

We left school at the same time, and it felt different. I had people that I could talk to at school, like friends. Even if one of them was a tutee, and another was one year younger than me. It felt oddly stipulating but I found some people, I guess. They won't screw me over, I hoped.

We said our goodbyes when we saw the signature Greenfield Avenue gate. Our goodbyes were also incredibly characteristic. Yashna waved rather enthusiastically and Kyran nodded. I waved back with a smile and walked back home.

Walking past the fallen leaves was difficult, especially because the ground was entirely covered in them, and there seemed to be nobody to take care of the paths. Arriving home, I felt relieved. Today was the day of Eliza's dance show and my mom had taken the day off to get ready for it. They won't be home for at least 3 hours.

While my mom discouraged me from pursuing the arts, she wildly encouraged my sister to dance, sing, act, and even paint. Today was a very special performance and Eliza begged my mom to come, and that she didn't want me there because she didn't want her private school friends to find out about her public-school sister.

I wasn't complaining.

Groaning, I threw my backpack next to the dining room and walked in for some snacks. The pack of Doritos on the shelf was incredibly tempting, but I resisted the urge, because that was my sister's. Instead, I grabbed the Dairy Milk bar in the fridge and sat down at the dining table.

There was nothing more interesting than seeing an unusual piece of paper lying on the dining table, turned upside down. However, my curiosity knew no bounds. I flipped it over and saw my mom's name etched on top in black ink.

It was her prescription, and it felt wrong to look at it because I knew that she needed medication but I didn't know the specifics of it. She never told me much about what she takes.

It's not my business.

Fuck it.

It was a long list. Reading through it, there were some that I knew what they were for. However, others needed to be Googled.

Lercanidipine for blood pressure, thyroxine for thyroid, zopiclone for sleep, vitamin -D tablets, aripiprazole for her mental health, iron supplement, dapagliflozin for diabetes, rosuvastatin for cholesterol.

I was dumbstruck sitting there reading off what my mom took regularly to get by. I didn't know she had thyroid, blood pressure, or diabetes. I certainly had no idea that she was taking pills for her mental health either.

I turned the page back over and took my backpack up to my room. Once I was there, I was left with a haunting thought.

Was I judging my mother too harshly?

She tried her best to deal with our dad leaving us, and she's been trying to raise us for many years. I never gave her credit for that because I was too busy thinking about everything she did wrong.

That made me feel sick and guilty.

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