It was no secret the Shawn Morgan ran Listrougth High. His peers, whether they liked him or hated him, never questioned his superiority. Adults, oblivious to his actions and the harshness of his personality, saw him as the polite, talented, better son of the Morgan family—the best boy in town.

His word was law, at least among his fellows. The school was wrapped around his accusing finger.

It was also no secret that Shawn Morgan was a ladies' man. He loved girls, and girls loved him. He was toxically charming when he wanted to be. He'd been playing the field since he was in diapers.

And when Shawn Morgan slept with a girl, everybody knew it. Even if the poor girl was interested in keeping her personal affairs to herself, the news would be out and about before school commenced the following morning.

He found some sort of pleasure in the numbers. Rallying up his "conquests" gave him a weird sense of validation. And if nobody knew about a conquest, had it ever really happened? In his eyes, the answer to that was no. As much as he loved sleeping with girls, he loved the attention he got from sleeping with girls more. He got satisfaction in knowing that the person to his left probably had some idea about who he'd been with—or better, in—the night before.

Until that day, I'd been sure that their wasn't a single girl Shawn had fooled around with that I hadn't heard about. He'd have to be ashamed of a hookup to refrain from sharing it. It would have to be with someone who he didn't want anyone, under any circumstances, to know about. An event he'd rather pretend never happened.

Which was probably why I'd never before known that Shawn Morgan had slept with the one and only Sister Marsy.

     Lucas wouldn't tell me how he'd found out, and I didn't care to pry. I only cared that this could be my way out of the hole I'd fallen into.

      Lucas also unfortunately said that I wasn't allowed to actually tell anybody Shawn's secret—I could only threaten him. It was sad how protective Lucas still was of his brother, even without realizing it, after all of the shit Shawn put him through. Nevertheless, I agreed.

If the secret got out, it would ruin him. His reputation would go straight to the bin. Everything Shawn did, it seemed, was catered around approval. He would have none of that if the world knew of his scandalous, rather disgusting affair. Adults would see him as nothing but trouble, sleeping with a woman who could be his mother and who was supposed to remain chaste. He wouldn't be able to walk a hallway without hearing jokes and jeers whispered and shouts. He would, in an instant, lose his reign.

I was hesitant, though. As bad as his secret was, mine was undeniably worse. His would bring him temporary disapproval—mine would bring me permanent exclusion. I could only hope that a threat would be enough to scare him into withdrawal.

If not, I would be dead meat. I could imagine a million ways it could go wrong. If I blackmailed Shawn, and it wasn't enough—if he realized that the rumor he was brewing would do me more damage than my secret would do him—I would be left worse off than before. He would be angry, no doubt. And in his anger, he'd disregard my threat, and I wouldn't have a chance to save my name. The other boys would all team up against me, and even if I tried to deny their rumor, or turn it back around against them, it would be too late.

It was really, really risky. But it seemed like the best shot I'd get at recovering. Hopefully, the fact that his threat was of a mere rumor he'd started, whereas mine was of a fact we both knew was true, would be enough. If it worked, Shawn would be quiet. And once Shawn was quiet, the others would be, too. And I could finally be a boyfriend again.

The risk was worth it. If not for me, then for Lucas.

     And holy shit, it worked.

     I'd never seen Shawn grow so pale.

     According to him, he'd been walking to Beth Crampton's house, tripping on LSD and looking for a freaky hookup. Sister Marsy lived in the same neighborhood, and when Shawn knocked on her door, thinking she was Beth and too fucked up to see otherwise, the old nun hadn't told him otherwise.

     Which was actually really fucked up. If I gave two shits about Shawn, I'd think Sister Marsy should be taken to court for screwing with a boy who was clearly out of it, or at least kicked out of the church because she clearly wasn't "holy". But I didn't give two shits about Shawn, so I kind of found the whole thing hilarious, and I couldn't find it in myself to be sorry for that. He was too concerned about his reputation to consider how horrible what she'd done had been, but that was none of my business. All that mattered was that he'd finally let up.

    I wasn't sure what he said to convince the other boys, but they backed off, too. After weeks of dealing with their bullshit, being stressed every damn night, and being a horrible boyfriend, I was free from their grasp. I felt like Pinocchio—a puppet no longer dependent on his master. I could walk on my own two legs and swing my arms of my own accord, and they wouldn't say a word. No more threatening to start rumors. No more suspicion.

I wasn't going to suddenly get cocky and start acting like a moron. Some things wouldn't ever be able to go back to normal—there was no way I could spend every Friday at Lucas' anymore. But if I wanted to go to his house once in a while, I would, and I wouldn't be scared to do it.

My relationships with those boys would never be back to where they had once stood, I could tell. The awesome thing was, I didn't care. They were leaving me alone, and that was all that mattered; my relationships with them had never meant shit in the first place.

Part of me suspected that they were still suspicious. Another part of me suspected that they hadn't even really thought I was gay in the first place. They'd just been minions, mindlessly listening to their master, and now that their master had backed off, they did, too. The freedom was uplifting.

     A rumor for a secret. That was the deal.

"Nate!"

I must have jumped a foot into the air when Lucas barged without warning through my front door, yelling my name as if he'd just had some life-changing experience.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest and feeling my heart's erratic beating. "Lucas, what the hell?"

Without proposing any sort of explanation, he practically ran to join me on the living room couch. An envelope was in his hand, and he shoved it towards me.

"The mail man was here and he dropped this off and oh my god Nate look."

With my eyebrows raised in amusement, I gently pushed Lucas' hand down, choosing instead to focus on him. "Okay, you're excited," I said, which was pretty obvious. "Which is awesome, but also hello. How was your day?"

"Nate," Lucas whined. "We can do that later! This is important!"

"My day was great," I said, more to annoy him than anything. "Thanks for asking."

Lucas rolled his eyes and held the envelope up to my eye level so I had no choice but to look at it. Cheater. With a huff, I gave in and scanned its surface.

Then I saw who the sender was, and any sign of joking fell from my expression.

The letter was from New York University.

It wouldn't be the first college letter I'd gotten. I'd applied to several universities in and around New York—some had accepted me, some hadn't. None of them mattered as much as this one, though. None even got close. I wanted it. I really, really wanted it.

Now that I was finally taking him seriously, Lucas took my hand and placed the envelope in it. "I can't open it," I said, my voice only barely surpassing a whisper. My heart was still racing, but now for entirely different reasons. "If I don't . . ."

"You will," Lucas said reassuringly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pressed a loud kiss to my temple. "You will."

"But if I don't?"

My life wouldn't end if I didn't get into NYU. There were other schools that I could go to.

But my dreams were tied to this particular school. They had been since I was a child. Ever since my cousin Kenny told me that he would go to NYU someday, it had been my destination.

"Nate," Lucas said softly, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "You've gotta open it. One way or another, you need to know."

I took a shaky breath and leaned my head into the crook of his neck. "I know," I said. "I know I have to. But I don't know if I can."

"Don't freak," Lucas said. "I know how you're feeling, alright? When I got my letter from Juilliard, it took me thirty minutes to finally open it. And those turned out to be thirty minutes completely wasted. Panicking won't help—you're just going to think more and more until you've thought to much. You'll think about the bad until you can't think about the good. You've gotta, you know, rip off the bandage."

I snorted. "Easier said than done."

"But not impossible."

"No," I agreed. "Not impossible. But really fucking hard."

Lucas gripped my chin, forcing me to raise my head, and nodded towards the envelope. Slowly, I opened it with shaking hands and pulled out the paper inside. Unfolding it proved to be a whole other struggle.

"Almost there," Lucas encouraged softly. "Don't stop now, Nate. You're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"NYU."

Shutting my eyes tight, I unfolded the paper.

"Nate," Lucas' voice seemed far away, but I could still here the urgency within it. "Nate, look."

I opened my eyes. The paper fell out of my hands.

I'd only really processed one word. Congratulations.

"Congratulations," I muttered aloud. "It said congratulations."

Lucas was beaming. "You made it, Jean."

"I made it."

When he wrapped his arms around me in a tight, congratulatory hug, I couldn't help but mumble the words to myself again. "I made it." And again, because saying it felt so damn good. "I made it. I made it."

"You didn't just make it," Lucas said, pride dripping from his voice as his hand rubbed up and down my back. "I told you you'd get the scholarship."

I froze. "What?"

Lucas pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes wide with excitement. "Did you not see?" He he asked. "Oh my god, you didn't see!"

I hastily grabbed the slightly-crumpled paper and took the time to actually read it, scanning each line carefully. By the time I reached the end of the page, my eyes were watering, threatening to spill onto my cheeks.

A full scholarship.

They were going to give me a full scholarship. I'd been laughing when I applied for that ages ago, thinking no way will this ever actually happen. And there it was.

I couldn't contain my elation. I practically tackled Lucas, crying and cheering and melting into an absolute mess at the fact that I'd been offered a full scholarship to the university of my dreams.

"That's what you get for being a fucking prodigy!" Lucas said joyously, leaning his head back in happy laughter.

People had been impressed enough by my skill to offer to pay to have me come to their school and play for their team, regardless of my weakness in other areas. That was insane to me. Out of this world. I couldn't quite believe that it was true, but I also couldn't quite tell myself that it wasn't.

Lucas planted a congratulatory kiss on my lips. I held him there when he moved to pull away, basking in the joy of knowing that everything was finally starting to fall into place. He'd made it. I'd made it. Come fall, we'd be in Manhattan, far away from all of the bullshit that loomed over us every day. We'd made it. Our home was there, not here, and the life we began there would be ours and no one else's. We'd build from the ground up until we were above the skyscrapers, casting our shape upon the horizon, throwing a monumental shadow across the city. Our lives would be our creation. And that creation started now.

"I love you," I said against his lips, overcome with joy and wanting nothing more than to finally let him know how I'd been feeling for so long now. "God, I love you. I love you so much."

Lucas' arms wrapped tightly around my neck, pressing our bodies together. His lips left mine to kiss my cheek. "Say it again," he murmured.

"I love you, Lucas Morgan," I said. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Lucas' lips abandoned me altogether. His grip loosened enough so that he could lean back; green eyes met blue, and the smile on his face was one I'd keep with me, always.

"And I love you, Nathaniel Jean," he said. He shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine, our noses just barely brushing. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I tightened my arms around his torso, pulling him against me in an embrace that did just about everything it needed to do to communicate our feelings. As I held him and he held me, we knew. We both knew. We knew everything we needed to know. And it was beautiful.

Everybody was in a good mood on Friday. The school day had been shortened to leave room at the end for a stupid pep rally that was meant to "lift our spirits for the upcoming finals". The rally itself was bound to be a waste, but nobody cared—less school was less school, after all.

I, of course, was feeling good for different reasons. Two days after I'd received the NYU acceptance letter, I hadn't been able to wipe the smile off of my face.

What made the victory even sweeter was how well Lucas and I were working now. No more Shawn or Damien or anyone to put a strain on our relationship. We were still a tightly kept secret, of course, but now we were a secret that didn't hurt to keep. We were happy. I was happy.

For once in my life, I was one of the smiling faces in the crowd. As I walked toward the rally, there was a little bounce in my step. I couldn't help it. Everything was just so good.

Of course, I would have enjoyed the rally more if I wasn't surrounded on each side by the idiots that I called my friends. All they did was talk too loud, hoot like idiots, and make comments about which cheerleaders they would—or already did—sleep with. In my opinion, the cheerleaders, who were supposed to be keeping the spirit of the rally, looked absolutely dead inside.

Nonetheless, it was bearable. I'd dealt with worse.

Until one of the guys caught sight of Lucas, who was sitting in the bleachers a few rows below us with his friends.

"Dudes," Tyler said, smirking ridiculously. "Let's throw something at fairy boy."

I rolled my eyes as the other boys expressed their agreement. "How immature can y—"

"Don't be a buzzkill, Nate," Trevor groaned. "It's just a bit of fun."

"Yeah," Cameron agreed, punching me in the shoulder. "We'll throw something soft."

Damien's eyes lit up. "I have an idea!" He exclaimed, which ways like a snake saying I have legs!—it didn't happen often, so it was an event to be remembered when it did. "I've got a sandwich in my bag. No harm in a sandwich, right?"

"You're gonna make a mess," I groaned. "Really, can't you just not be a child for, like, ten minutes?" Damien waved a hand dismissively, using the other to search through his backpack.

"Oh, hush," he said as he pulled out a plastic bag, inside of which was, as expected, a sandwich.

Shawn's eyes widened as he looked at it. "Wait, hold on. Don't throw that."

Tyler rolled his eyes. "C'mon Shawn, we only need one mom-friend in the group."

Damien pulled the sandwich out of the bag, swatting Shawn's hand away as he tried to snatch it. "Damien, I'm serious! Don't throw that!"

I had no idea what Shawn's issue was, but I was happy for the backup. "Seriously, dude," I said. "It's not necessary."

Damien ignored us both and raised his arm. "Hey, Lucas!" He called. Lucas turned around at the sound of his name, his eyes searching for the caller.

"Damien, stop!" Shawn yelled, much louder this time. But it was too late. Damien chucked the sandwich at his victim. It hit Lucas's face, causing said boy to yelp and jump in surprise, then slid down until it fell to the bleachers, leaving a smear of peanut butter on his cheek.

Then chaos broke loose.

Beside me, Shawn jumped to his feet and grabbed Damien by the collar, pulling the other boy up with him. Everyone around us watched in surprise as a streak of yells and curses left his mouth and he shook Damien violently. People started shouting, cheering for a fight and making the gymnasium ten times louder, drowning out the sounds of crappy pop music blaring from the speakers.

I didn't understand why Shawn of all people had gotten so upset until I looked ahead and saw what was happening around Lucas.

Saeyoung Park and Lucas' other theater friends were freaking out, screaming for help and yelling at curious watchers to step back and give him space.

And Lucas—oh God, Lucas. He was gasping for air, his hands grabbing at his neck as he struggled more and more to breathe. He was allergic to peanuts. How could I forget that?

In a second, I was down in that bleacher row with him. "Where's his epipen?" I yelled to Sae, who looked more than a little surprised that I'd come to help him.

"H-his backpack," she said nervously. "In the theater classroom."

"Well where's the fucking theater classroom?" I snapped.

We didn't have time for her to stumble over her words and be nervous. Whatever she thought of me, she needed to forget it for a minute and just talk.

She seemed to realize this herself, because her gaze steeled and she said, "Room 249. His backpack is—"

I didn't wait for her to finish. I ran.

I ran harder than I had at any soccer game. My legs moved faster than they could, not slowing in the slightest until I reached the theater room—room 249.

The teacher inside, Mr. Lourwy, looked up in surprise as I banged on the door. He must have sensed my urgency, because he rushed to open it and let me in. "Mr. Jean, what's—"

"I need his epipen!" Was all I said, which didn't do much to ease Mr. Lourwy. I ran to the desk that held Lucas' familiar backpack and frantically searched the pockets. Thankfully, I quickly found the pen.

Mr. Lourwy seemed to realize what was happening, and he followed me as I ran back to the gym, keeping up surprisingly well. He was saying something, asking questions, but I didn't hear him. I only heard Lucas, panting, asphyxiating.

I burst through the gym doors and was back at Lucas' side in an instant. His face was dangerously red, and his lips had begun to swell up. Since I'd been gone, a crowd of teachers had surrounded him, telling students to back off. One was on the phone with the ambulance.

Where I'd been sitting, two administrators were holding Damien and Shawn by their arms. Shawn had a bruised cheek, and Damien was sporting a black eye and a cut eyebrow. The gym was buzzing with the excitement and confusion of students who knew something interesting was happening but didn't actually know what interesting thing was happening.

It wasn't until the needle was submerged in Lucas' thigh that I started breathing, or even realized that I'd stopped breathing in the first place. I gripped his hand tightly, not caring who was around and absolutely despising the fact that that was all I could do. In this situation, I was powerless. I could only sit and wait and hope the injection would do its job.

Thankfully, it did. It was relatively soon that Lucas' gasping began to ease, and his breathing began to slow. Within another minute, the ambulance had arrived, and I'd been forced to release his hand as they pushed him away on a stretcher.

I drove after them to Nowhere, Nebraska's tiny little hospital, but once again found myself pretty useless as I was instructed to sit outside of his room and wait.

Sit and wait. Sit and wait. It was agonizingly painful to sit and wait.

Lucas' parents were soon there, too, panicking and asking everybody within a five meter radius what had happened over and over again. Saeyoung was there, along with a few other friends who I recognized but didn't really know. Shawn was probably still at the school, getting in trouble for fighting.

Time seemed to pass in slow motion, minute by minute. I did everything to keep myself distracted, but my mind kept falling back to the image of Lucas' anaphylaxis. The picture of him, red faced and clawing for breath, burned a permanent scar into my memory.

It was my fault. I should have remembered. He'd mentioned the allergy to me once, months back, but it hadn't really come up again since. If I'd remembered, there was no way that sandwich would have left Damien's hand. Lucas would have never gone through that.

"Hey."

I startled at the soft voice coming from my right, turning in surprise to see that Sae had sat down next to me. "You okay?" She asked. She had a very smooth, very lovely voice.

I rubbed my eyes. "If Lucas is."

Sae smiled slightly. "He will be. I've known him for a while; this isn't his first time. He'll be fine. But it is scary."

I nodded in agreement. "Very scary."

She seemed to hesitate, as if contemplating whether or not she should say something. "Can I ask you a question?"

Here it comes. "Yeah."

"No offense, but why do you care?"

I turned my gaze forward and found myself locking eyes with Mrs. Morgan. She offered me a smile, and I truly did finally understand why people spoke of the importance of parental figures. In the few months I'd known her, she'd become like a mother to me. Her smile gave me encouragement, but also a choice. What I said to answer Sae's question was nobody's decision but mine.

I made the choice that was so unlike me, I could hardly believe I was doing it. The choice that would've made Nate at the beginning of the school year—Nate a few weeks ago, even—shit his pants. I said, "Don't people usually care when someone they love gets hurt?"

My voice was quiet, lowered so that only Sae could hear. The words still had the same effect, however; her face went slack and her lips parted in genuine shock.

"You?" She whispered almost incredulously. In a different situation, her surprise would have been funny. "Wait, are you talking friend love, or love love?"

My stomach wasn't entirely happy with me for boldly sharing my sexuality with no preparation or warning, but I swallowed my nerves and said, "Love, love."

I lifted the chain around my neck, which I'd long since pulled from under my shirt to fidget with while I waited, and showed her the ring.

I could tell that Sae was trying hard not to gape and make a scene. "How did I not know about this?"

I shrugged. "We didn't tell anyone." Then I raised my eyebrows purposefully. "We still don't."

"Oh," she said, nodding. Then her eyes rounded. "Oh. You think—oh god no—I would never. Your secret's safe with me. That's a promise."

I smiled. "Thank you," I said, right as the doctor—Madeleine Montgomery's mother—exited Lucas' room.

"He can take visitors now," she told us. Her lips were tight, and I could tell from her expression that she wasn't happy to treat Lucas. That was a personal issue, though—a doctor is a doctor, and a doctor does as a doctor does. "Only a few at a time, though."

Lucas' parents went in to visit him first. When they emerged a few minutes later, Lucas' friends took their place. Finally, after everyone else had seen him, I went in alone.

     He smiled as I approached, holding out his hand. "Hey, hero."

       I chuckled. "I'm far from a hero," I said. I wanted badly to lean over and kiss him, to savor the feeling of him, alive and well. I'd shut the door on my way in. Still, there was a dark part of me that hadn't quite died yet, and it was scared. Scared of what would happen if somebody saw. Scared of what would happen if my parents found out.

     Then a thought occurred to me. What would happen if my parents found out? What could they do to me now that would hurt me? Yell at me? Yeah, because their opinions meant so much to me after they'd been absent for more-or-less my entire life. Take away my college plan? I didn't need that money anymore—I was going to college for free. I had some money in my wallet, and a few cards to pull from, I could hold my own without them, at least for a while. I could get a job, or two, or three, or however many it took to be completely independent of them. I didn't need them to hand me my life on a silver platter. I could make it on my own.

     I didn't need them.

     And if I didn't need them—if I could make my way out of this hell-hole with or without their help—then what was the point of even hiding anymore? I didn't want to spend the rest of my time here as a social outcast, but would it really be so bad? School was over in less than two months. We'd be gone soon enough.

     And in those two months, maybe I could finally ease some of Lucas' burden by sharing it with him. If there was someone else walking around with a target on his back, maybe Lucas wouldn't have been in a life threatening situation today at all.

      "What are you thinking?" Lucas asked, disrupting my thought. I didn't answer. I just kissed him.

     He made a noise of surprise, but he didn't pull away. On the contrary, one of his hands found the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

     "I need to come out," I said, breaking the kiss to look at him.

     For a moment, it was as if he hadn't heard me. Then his eyes widened. "What?" He said incredulously. "Are you out of your mind?"

     Okay. Not quite the reaction I was expecting.

     "I thought . . . I thought you'd want me to," I said. Lucas made a face.

     "Why on earth would I want that?"

     "Because then you wouldn't have to take all of the heat," I explained. "We could share it."

     Lucas' gaze softened and he smiled warmly. "Nate, that is the sweetest, most thoughtful, dumbest thing I have ever heard."

     I blinked in surprise. All this time, I'd thought our secretiveness was a product of my fear alone. "You seriously want us to be a secret?"

     He pursed his lips. "If we were somewhere else, in a different situation, no," he said. "But here, in this town, it's not worth it. I don't think the backlash would be good for you. And if it's not good for you, it's not good for me. I'll take all of the hits for you, okay?"

     "That's not fair to you," I argued. It wasn't okay that he could nearly die of an allergy attack and I would just sit there, letting him take all of the hits.

     "I can handle it," Lucas insisted. "I have until now, haven't I? Let me be the punching bag."

    "That's so fucked up," I groaned, but I didn't argue further. His mind was pretty clearly made up, and he knew more than I did. I trusted his thoughts more than my own.

     We both turned our heads at the sound of a knock on the door. A nurse entered, holding a clipboard and a pen. She smiled kindly as she approached.

     "I'm just gonna do a few quick tests, okay?" She said. She was young—mid-twenties, maybe—and I had never seen her before. Her skin was dark and rich, and her densely curled ebony hair was tied up on top of her head in a large bun. Her name tag read Natalie. "You should be free to go in another hour or two."

     She told me I could stay if I wanted, so I sat down in the stool-like chair next to Lucas' bed and watched as she did her work. She made small-talk while she ran her tests, and I could quickly tell that she was one of those genuinely nice people that you so rarely found in this town.

    "Alright," she said finally, her eyes quickly scanning her clipboard once more. She looked back up at Lucas, giving him an affirmative nod. "Everything looks normal to me. I'm going to hand the information over to your doctor, so expect her here shortly, okay?"

     Lucas groaned, and I watched as Natalie tried and failed to hide a laugh.

     "Oh, she's not so bad," Natalie said, though her eyes said otherwise. She turned to leave, but right before she opened the door, she turned back. "I, er, I hope I'm not sticking my nose where it doesn't belong," she said, her gaze trained on her feet. "But I heard what you two were talking about earlier."

     I choked on air and she quickly lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine as she frantically backtracked. "Don't get me wrong! I wasn't eavesdropping or anything, but I was waiting outside the door and I didn't want to intrude and I kind of just . . ." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Heard. Anyways, I'm new to this place if you couldn't tell. I moved here because my boyfriend lives here—you might know him, his name is Renaldo Suarez."

     I did know Renaldo Suarez. Or at least I knew of him. His parents owned a cute little restaurant a mile from my house, and he helped them out sometimes. They were some of the nicer people in town, and their younger son was one of Lucas' close friends from theater. They were among the few that didn't mind him the way he was.

     "My point is," Natalie continued, "he's told me enough about this town for me to know that it's not always the . . . kindest place. And I know it's probably not easy for the two of you. Renaldo and I just bought a little house off of South Street and I guess what I'm trying to say is that I know I don't know you but I'm always willing to help you. I don't mean to be weird or anything but . . . my sister and her wife went through a lot when they were your age, and it was hard to see her deal with everything our asshole parents put her through, and . . . You guys seem nice. Nice people don't deserve bad things.

     "So I, a complete and total stranger, am offering you help if you need it. Now or ever."

      She took a pen from the pocket of her scrubs and a sticky note from who-knows-where and quickly scribbled something down. She handed the paper to me and I found myself staring at a phone number.

     I looked up at her, stunned. She smiled. "I pray you'll never have to use it," she said. "But just in case."

      Lucas beat me to talking. "Gosh, Natalie," he said, looking sort of awestruck. "Thank you so much. We don't . . . There aren't many people like you around here."

     I kept glancing between the sticky note, Lucas, and Natalie. Her gesture seemed unreal to me. People were never this nice. It just didn't happen in a place like this. "Is this serious?"

     I'd half meant to keep that to myself, but I wasn't embarrassed to have said it aloud. Natalie nodded. "One hundred percent. I don't know what your situation is, but if you find yourself in a rough spot, shoot me a call."

      She left after that, offering a final smile before disappearing to fetch Lucas' grinch of a doctor.

     402-052-5600

That night as I tried to sleep, I couldn't quite forget what Lucas had said to me earlier.

      He was so right.

      I'd been talking like a fool in the aftereffects of my adrenaline rush. The stress f Lucas' allergy attack compounded with the relief of his well-being had left me with dangerously high levels of confidence. The kind of confidence that could have made me do something stupid.

     Sure, I didn't need my parents. I genuinely didn't care what they thought about me—they'd never been more than figureheads trying and failing to have a family. But I wasn't sure I could survive walking around like an alien among my own people. To be shunned by everyone who, just a day before, had admired me. To be picked on in the hallways, or disliked by teachers, or glared at on the street. Just picturing a mother pulling her child away from me made my throat itch uncomfortably.

      I realized then that my fears extended far beyond getting out of this shit town. Being stuck here was a nightmare, but being hated here was no prettier. Living amongst others who wanted me gone; surrounded, with few exceptions, by hate and hate and more hate.

      Thinking about it alone made my heart race. I didn't like the image of being an outsider. I wanted it out of my head. But I'd brought myself here, and now I couldn't un-think it. The idea was stuck firmly at the front of my mind. The possibility of being cast aside, no longer a part of anything. It didn't matter that the school year was soon over, and come summer I'd be gone. I wouldn't be able to handle the heat for a week, let alone the next two months.

      Now I really, really wanted to stop thinking about it. But the images only got worse and worse. I saw my sister Jenna, disgust written in bold on her face. I had no idea how she would react, but if it was bad . . . No more Sunday movie marathons or races in the backyard. That was what got me.

     I didn't sleep that night. As horrible, truthful pictures flooded my brain, each worse than the last, I could feel myself losing the fight between calm and panic. Heart racing, palms sweating, breath shaking, I let myself descend into the dark as my room shrunk around me, suffocating me.

       I had to be careful.

I threw a very small Rent reference in here and if anyone notices I'll love you forever

Also, important note to clear up any confusion:

So, to those of you who don't know, what Sister Marsy did to Shawn was in fact rape. Someone can not legally give sexual consent when under the influence, so when a person who is sober sleeps with someone who isn't, that is considered a form of rape, and that is by no means even close to okay.

I'd like to reiterate: rape is a serious issue, and there's no situation where that should be disregarded. Believe me, I had quite a hard time writing this part, merely because I wasn't sure where to draw the line between my beliefs and the character's. I could have easily gone on a long tangent, but the fact is, this story is from Nate's POV, not mine, and I break his reaction down like this:

1. Nate isn't very educated on these matters. I'd say he's pretty ignorant, mostly because he has only been exposed to a tiny sliver of reality, so I don't think he'd see how bad the situation was. I doubt he, or Lucas for that matter, would fully recognize what had happened to Shawn. Chances are, Shawn wouldn't recognize it himself.

2. Either way, Nate was working in self-preservation. He mentioned briefly that he thought the situation was fucked up, but he paid little mind to it because he was also being threatened and tormented by the guy. That doesn't mean he thought Shawn deserved it, but that he naturally felt much less empathy for Shawn after what he'd been put through. Doesn't make it okay, but if you take human nature into consideration, it's probably how most people would act under such stress (we like to think we're a lot better than we are, though there are several psychological studies that display how someone's nature can be twisted in tough times).

So yeah, I thought I'd address that so you readers don't get the wrong idea about me or my characters. And please, if you ever do hear about something like this happening to someone you know, don't take it lightly, even if that person doesn't fully understand what's happened to them.