I was so glad that I was finally alone. I hadn't been alone in such a long time that it was refreshing. I sat in my bed, thumbing through some old photo albums. It was definitely getting my mind off of Joshua, especially all the pictures of Fin and me. I was actually smiling as I stopped on a picture. It was a school trip we had taken in like fifth grade. Fin and I were in the front, holding tight to each other. I think we were at the zoo. That was such a simpler time. I was happy.

I slammed the photo album cover closed and threw it aside. The other three were discarded on my floor next to my backpack. My room was a mess because I hadn't put anything away in days. Clothes were strewn all over the floor. A blanket draped casually over the side of the bed. I had only ever been like this once before. It was when Scott left.

Speaking of Scott, he had been avoiding me since Joshua and I had our fight. I didn't know why. It hurt to see him not talking to me. He was so worried when I first came home. He would check on me to make sure I was alright. But I hadn't seen him in a few days.

Mom wouldn't stop checking on me. She always brought me soup or cookies or some type of food, saying that I needed to eat. I didn't need to eat. I needed Joshua.

But I couldn't have him. I saw him talking to a girl at school, and it definitely looked like he was flirting. He found someone new already.

I shook my head, banishing every single thought of Joshua. It was my weekend off, and I deserved to do something I enjoyed. Baking was out of the question because Mom was down there, but I did enjoy playing the guitar. I had one sitting in my room, up against the foot of my bed, so I grabbed it. Resting it on my lap, I tried to remember the last song I learned how to play. It had been such a long time since I played that I couldn't even remember the easiest song I learned.

Playing the guitar was very stress-free, and it was something only I enjoyed. My mom didn't tell me to play it. My brother didn't play it. It was mine. I wasn't very good, but I liked it.

I strummed some random chords in quick succession, closing my eyes. The guitar reverberated and allowed the sound to flow. My heart slowed its procession and my shoulders eased the tension. Humming a little tune always brightened my experience with playing the guitar.

For some reason, a bittersweet feeling rose up in my throat. It brought back the memory of the beautiful guitar sitting in Joshua's living room. Why did everything revolve around him? We weren't even together. We were hardly anything. Besides, he called me a friend. I was nothing more to him than that. Nothing more, nothing less.

I hit a sour note, which didn't help my mood. I threw my guitar pick at my window, and it slammed into the sill. I growled as I dropped the guitar on the ground. Why did it hurt so bad to think about him? My heart physically ached. My head hadn't stopped pounding since we fought, and that was a few days ago.

"Come on, Grace," I said, hitting my forehead with my palms. "Get it together."

The sunlight that spilled through my blinds highlighted a band poster. Maybe listening to music would help get Joshua off of my mind. Playing music myself obviously wasn't helping. I queued up one of my favorite playlists and pressed play. I turned the volume all the way up to drown out my sorrows. The loud and fast drum beat outpaced my heart. Screaming voices erupted from the speakers on my phone, and I nodded my head in time. Mom really didn't like when I listened to screamo, but I only listened to it when I was feeling bad. And I was definitely feeling horrible.

"Get out of my life!" I yelled along with the lead singer. "All you caused me was strife!"

The heaviness on my chest loosened slightly. I closed my eyes as I rested my head against my pillow. Everything was going to get better. Slowy, but it was.

"Grace."

I sighed. Keeping my eyes closed, I said, "What, Scott?"

His voice sounded tight as he said, "The customers can hear this . . . whatever you call this."

"My music?" I asked.

"Yes." He paused, and I could imagine him scowling at every F-bomb. "You need to turn it down."

I pressed the button on my phone once. I finally opened my eyes and stared at him. "Is that better?"

"No."

I pressed it again. "How about now?"

"Would you stop being petty?" he hissed. "I have to get back. If this isn't turned down any more, I'm going to send Mom up here."

"And?" I asked. "Scott, it is helping me."

"You can have it at a normal volume to help you."

I shoved my headphones into my phone and slid the earbuds into my ears without breaking eye contact with Scott. I turned it up as loud as I dared without hurting my eardrums. His mouth moved. I couldn't hear him. I didn't want to hear him.

"Better?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

He shook his head. But he left my room anyway, slamming the door behind him. The papers on my wall next to the door fluttered.

The music pounded through the headphones into my ears. I realized how much I hated using headphones, but there was nothing I could do. I didn't want Mom checking on me again. She would know by the music I was playing how I really felt. I didn't want her to know. I didn't want anyone to know. It was better if I dealt with it myself. Everything was better that way.