"How are we feeling today?" asks Elizabeth. She crosses her legs, brushing a curl behind her ear, and smiles encouragingly at me. My eyes flicker from the candle on her desk to her warm eyes. She's wearing a bright green blouse, very bold and outgoing, and I wonder how reflective style is of personality. I'm wearing jeans and my new navy sweatshirt.

"Alright," I say. "I think better."

"Better?"

"The sadness comes in waves. It's not so bad today. I baked chocolate chip cookies with Hailey this afternoon. And Tom helped, too. He was feeling good."

"Sounds like a nice afternoon."

"It was."

Elizabeth jots something down on her notepad, then says casually - "How do you feel about going back to school?"

"Oh."

"It's in a few days, isn't it?"

"Yeah. The semester starts next Wednesday."

She puts down her pen and waits for me to talk. There's lots of silence during my sessions. I don't think that's a bad thing, necessarily, but sometimes it fills my brain and all I can focus on is the clock ticking and my soft, shallow breathing. Inhale. Exhale.

"I miss Eliza and Pierce," I say. "And Willem and Max. And Marly, too. Not in that kind of way, just as a person. She was always nice to me. She always thought I was good."

Elizabeth writes something down. I've stopped trying to figure out what she's piecing together.

"But besides them, I'm not that excited. I don't really want to go back."

"Why not?"

I pull my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands. "I don't know. The pressure, I guess. How much I'll have to study for things. But it's weird. Cause last year, I always loved to study really hard."

"Do you think you've changed?"

"Since last year?" I stare at my sneakers. "Yeah."

Elizabeth waits for me to talk, and when I don't, she clears her throat and shifts in her chair. "Sam," she says slowly. "You don't have to go back to Harvard, you know."

I look up. "What? Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Because so many people worked so hard for me to go to school there. And I worked hard. I should be grateful. And I am grateful."

"People?"

"Yeah. Tom. My teachers. The Becketts. They're proud of me."

Elizabeth writes something down. "You're a brilliant kid, Sam. I don't have to tell you that. Incredibly gifted. But you're not perfect, and you have some things to work through. And an environment like Harvard, especially right now, with so many other factors coming into play, isn't always the healthiest."

To be honest, I haven't really thought about going back to school for second semester. My brain has tried to avoid it. But as much as I don't want to go back, I feel like there's no other option.

I don't know what to say, then - "But where else would I go?"

"You're eighteen," says Elizabeth, and then she smiles at me, like that fact solves all my problems instead of creating them.

~

Cameron is in Vancouver for an away game, and Tom is taking a nap at the house, so I spend my night with the remaining Becketts.

"Hey, Sam," says Ms. Beckett, seasoning chicken in the kitchen. She nods towards the vegetables by the sink. "Do you mind helping me? Would you rinse and cut those up for the salad?"

"Of course!"

She smiles tiredly at me, a strand of blonde hair falling out of her ponytail. "Thank you, honey."

I turn on the sink and let cool water rinse over the vegetables, colorful peppers and cucumbers and carrots. As I place them on the cutting board, silvery water drips from my fingers, like I've cut myself and am bleeding water.

Veronica braids Hailey's hair in the living room as the game plays on the TV. I glance up as Cameron's name is said during warmups, and the camera zooms in on him snapping the puck to a teammate.

I look back down. "I like cooking," I say absent-mindedly.

"Yeah?" Ms. Beckett is elated. "I can teach you some easy recipes, if you'd like."

"That would be so great."

When the chicken is ready, the four of us eat at the table, Hailey making all of laugh with her hockey commentary. Outside, wind makes the window panes creak, and bare tree branches rock gently over a thin layer of icy snow.

Veronica pours dressing on her salad and smiles sweetly at me. "Can I practice with my new makeup on you, Sam?"

"What?"

"Oh, come on, please? I'll only do a little bit."

Hailey turns to me with wide eyes. "Oh! Do it, Sam!"

I'm reminded of Eliza and Marly. Homesick isn't the right word. I miss them a little, is all. And I feel kind of guilty, too, for the way everything went down, and how I was never a good friend.

"Sure," I say, too tired to protest. "Why not." And Veronica and Hailey smile at each other.

So half an hour later I end up wearing eye shadow and shimmery lip gloss - "You don't look bad Sam, honest!" - and Veronica gives me a rundown of everything she's doing, even though it means nothing to me.

"And now I'm putting on some highlighter. It really makes your eyes pop and defines your cheekbones."

"I'm so glad," I say, trying very hard not to flinch. Ms.Beckett laughs from the kitchen. Hailey puts on a tutu and does a dance for us. Cameron gets an assist. It's a good night. Like I said, the sadness comes in waves. And it's not so bad now, not bad at all.

By the time I head home, it's pretty late, and I have a tupperware of food for Tom. I've figured he's already gone to bed, but when I head inside he's awake on the couch, flipping through television channels.

"Hey," he calls out. "Our favorite Chinese restaurant is closing down, so we need to talk about the next best place. I've heard mixed things." He sees me and his eyebrows raise. "Oh! Maybe we do need to talk?"

I rub sparkly stuff from my cheek and set the tupperware down on the table. "Veronica wanted to test some things out on me."

"Well, I was going to say that you look good, is all. You can wear makeup if you'd like."

I feel such a sudden rush of love towards him. He looks so young, suddenly, and so tired, in his classic red flannel. I sit beside him on the couch and he ruffles my hair.

"You know you can always be yourself around me," he says.

"I do know that," I say genuinely. "Thank you."

We sit in silence for a moment and I stare at the TV, an outdated show playing with the volume down low. The washing machine clinks down the hallway. I say, "It's getting kind of late, aren't you tired?"

"Yeah, I'll head to bed in a minute. I've been napping a lot today. No need to worry."

"You'll let me know if you need anything, won't you?"

"Of course." He smiles and pats my hand, wrinkles multiplying around his eyes. "Only if you'll do the same to me."

 "I will." I look down at my hands, then back up. "Can I ask you something?"

"'Course."

"What if I don't go back to Harvard?"

He looks surprised, then hides it fast. "What do you mean?"

"What if I don't go back?"

Tom thinks about it and shrugs. "Whatever you want to do, kid, is fine with me. You're so smart, you'll get a scholarship anywhere. If Harvard isn't the right fit, that's okay. We'll figure it out. "

I rest my head on his lap. I feel like I'm six years old again. "Yeah, I guess we'll figure it out."

"We've always figured it out, you and me."

"Yeah, we always have."

A/N i'm sorry again for the wait!! how's everyone doing? what do you think sam should do? 

also it's my bday today and i've met so many wonderful internet friends that i wish i could celebrate with irl, just want to say i'm grateful for you all!! :) lots and lots of love