"So what the hell happened back there?"

Evan looked over at Connor. "W-what do you mean?"

"You had a panic attack, I know," Connor continued, "but what the hell was that? You were so out of it, you had this dazed look, you were constantly touching a wall, you were grabbing onto my fucking arm like you were dying." Connor paused. "Are. . . are you high or some shit?"

Evan's eyes widened. "N-no! I-I don't do drugs, and, and even if I did, I w-wouldn't go to school high."

Connor's jaw clenched and he gripped the wheel tight, his knuckles turning white.

"Did. . ." Evan looked at his hands, which were in his lap, messing with a string on his jeans. "I'm sorry. Did I say something?"

Connor shook his head. "It's just. . . It's nothing."

    The two fell into silence. The only sound was the air conditioning and State Champs playing on the radio.

    Evan looked out the window, head resting on the cool glass. "Dissociation," he whispered.

    "Speak up Hansen," Connor replied.

    "Dissociation," Evan repeated. "That's what happened."

    "Oh."

    "I-it's where yo-you-"

    "I know what it is Hansen," Connor interrupted. "Were you, were you diagnosed with it?"

    Evan shook his head. "I-I don't have it as a disorder. I-it's a symptom o-of anxiety. D-during panic attacks, I sort of disconnect from reality-derealisation-but it doesn't h-happen of-often. U-usually I c-cry during th-them."

    Connor didn't reply, just focused on the road.

    "S-sorry," Evan said. Connor glanced at him. "Y-you probably do-don't care about th-that."

    "You sure do apologize a lot," Connor said.

    "S-sorry."

    Connor rolled his eyes and turned the music up a bit, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat.

    "You, you didn't exactly t-tell me where we're g-going."

    "You'll find out."

    Evan pouted and resumed his attention to the outside. Specifically the trees. He felt his eyelids droop and soon he was asleep.

"Hansen wake up," Connor yelled. "We're here."

    Evan cracked open his eyes. Connor was staring at him.

    Evan looked out the window, eyes widening slightly.

    He followed Connor out of the car.

    "This is the orchard my parents used to take me and my sister," Connor said. "It's closed down now."

    "Wait," Evan said. "I-isn't this t-trespassing?"

    Connor smirked. "It's only trespassing if you get caught."

    Evan watched as Connor climbed over the fence. He walked over to the gate and took out a paper clip. He concentrated on picking the lock, his tongue sticking out slightly.

    The lock popped and Connor pushed open the gate.

    "W-what if someone s-sees us?" Evan asked, slowly walking through.

    Connor rolled his eyes. "Relax Hansen," he said. "No one ever comes by. And even if someone does, we'll probably be out of sight."

    "B-but what if th-they get th-the license p-plate number and give it t-to the p-police and, and then t-the police will c-call our parents and-"

    "Jesus Hansen," Connor interrupted, "do you ever stop worrying?"

    "S-sorry."

    Connor sighed and started walking. Evan scurried after him.

    The two walked in silence. It wasn't a comfortable silence, but it wasn't awkward either. Somewhere in between.

    Connor made a quick left, making his way towards a tree.

    Evan blinked, looking over at Connor before jogging to keep up with him.

    Connor leaned again the tree, fishing around in his pockets looking for something.

    Evan stared at the packet of cigarettes in Connor's hand, then up at Connor, who was staring back.

    "What?" Connor asked. Evan looked back at the cigarettes. Connor rolled his eyes once again. "It's a regular cigarette. I'm driving you home in a few hours, I'm not stupid enough to get high."

    Evan looked at his shoes, shoving his good hand in his pocket.

    He glanced over to his right, spotting a tree with bright red scattered on it. Evan made his way over to the tree. As he got closer, he recognized it as a Dogwood tree.

    There were no blossoms on it, as it was early fall. So, the only thing the tree had were berries.

    Evan's stomach rumbled quietly. He didn't eat much during lunch, but at least he had eaten.

    Evan jumped up, trying to latch onto one of the small branches so he could grab some berries.

    Realizing jumped wasn't going to work, he looked around for a large rock, one big enough so he could stand on it.

    He couldn't find a rock, but he spotted a log nearby. Careful as to not injure his arm more than it was, he dragged the log over to the tree.

    He stood on the log, latching onto the tree so he wouldn't fall. He put his injured arm on a branch and used his other one to grab some berries.

    He slipped and quickly grabbed onto the branch tightly with both arms.

    Wait. . . Dogwood trees leave rashes if your skin touches the bark.

    Evan let go instantly, falling to the ground. He landed on his back.

    "What is with you and falling out of trees?" Connor asked, suddenly appearing next to Evan.

    Evan sat up. The sudden movement of the branch had made a few bundles of berries fall.

    He picked up the bundles, putting a few in his mouth.

    "You shouldn't put random berries in your mouth," Connor said. He dropped his cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with his foot.

    "Th-they're not poisonous," Evan replied. "I-I'm sort of a tree expert s-so I know these thing."

    He stood up. He grabbed Connor's hand. Connor instantly yanked his hand back.

    "What the hell Hansen?" he exclaimed.

    Evan grabbed his wrist again, placing three berries into his palm. "Try them," he said.

    Connor stared at the berries. He picked one up and placed it on his tongue. He chewed and almost instantly spit it out.

    "That's so bitter," Connor proclaimed. "How do you eat that?"

    Evan shrugged. "You g-get used to it."

    "How many times have you eaten that to the point where you're 'used to it'?"

    "Probably about ten t-times."

    Connor shook his head. He lit another cigarette.

    Evan stared at it. "Why do you sm-smoke? D-don't you already d-do drugs?"

    Connor's eyes slid over to Evan's.

    "I-I'm sorry, I sho-shouldn't have asked that," Evan quickly said. "Y-you don't have to t-tell me, it's prob-probably really personal and I don't want you mad at me especially after what happened last Saturday."

    Connor closed his eyes, sighing. Smoke escaped through his lips.

    "I wasn't mad at you, Hansen."

    Evan snapped his head over to Connor. "W-what?"

    "I was mad at my asshole of a father." Connor took a small drag from the cigarette. "He honestly doesn't deserve to be called 'Dad'. He thinks I can't be friends with people besides drug dealers, when in reality, I barely speak to them."

    "I-I still shouldn't h-have pushed," Evan whispered. "And, and it's not true. What you said. Th-that people do-don't care ab-about you."

    Connor scoffed. "Name one person."

    "Z-Zoe."

    "No she doesn't. I've yelled at her and threatened her so many times while high that she most likely hates me. And she has every right to."

    Evan frowned. "Your parents?"

    Connor made a noise that sounded like a laugh. "Yeah, sure. If saying that my past suicide attempts and doing drugs are for attention then yes, they do care. My parents didn't even do anything when I threw that printer in second grade!"

    Evan flinched at the sudden increase of volume.

    "If my parents did care," Connor continued, "if they loved me, they would've gotten me help. But no! They don't do anything because having people know that their depressed and anger-ridden son is in therapy, it'll ruin the 'perfect family' image they have going on."

    Connor took a longer drag before sitting down.

    "Connor. . ." Evan sat next to the taller boy.

    "I just. . . It's fine, Hansen. I don't need your pity."

    They fell into another silence. It wasn't as awkward as before.

    Birds sang above them. The clouds covered the sun.

    Evan looked at his hands. He leaned against the tree, stifling a yawn.

    He didn't want to fall asleep. He couldn't. Connor would think he's rude and annoying.

    So he stared at the dirt, watching an inch worm crawl on a sliver of grass.

He didn't even realize he fell asleep until Connor shook him.

    "Hansen wake up," he said. "It's four."

    Evan opened his eyes, rubbing and blinking the sleep awake.

    He caught sight of his arm and fingers. It was covered in bumps and extremely red.

    He groaned and surprised the urge to scratch at the rash.

    He stood up and followed Connor, who had already started walking toward the gate.

    When they got back to the car, Evan reached in the back for his backpack. He fished around for his phone.

    He had four missed calls and twenty texts from his mom.

    His heart started pounding. "H-how fast can you get me home?"

    "Well, if I go over the speed limit, probably thirty minutes."

    Evan nodded and put his phone away. He held onto the door handle as Connor sped out of the parking lot.

    Evan nearly screamed as Connor ran a stop sign, barely missing the car that was zooming passed them.

    It took them twenty minutes until they got to his neighborhood. Evan was panting, his palms sweating and his heart still thumping.

    Jared's a worse driver, just remember that.

    His face paled when they pulled into his driveway.

    Heidi Hansen stood on the porch, arms crossed and pissed off.