“Well, you have no reason to worry.”

  “So, you’re coming to school then?”

  I rock my head back, dreading having to go.

  “Come on,” he nags. “It’s the last day. There is no way I’m going alone.”

  It isn’t just the idea of going that has me in a silent panic. It’s everything leading up to it. It’s having to move, to get dressed, to brush my hair, to fake a mood, to simply exist. These may be simple things for him, but to me, they’re painfully difficult. The very thought of leaving this room is agonizing. It’s a paperweight in the pit of my stomach.

  “Don’t let me down,” he adds, pressing the issue. “I need you there.”

  Looking at him from over my shoulder, I release a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

  I drag myself over to the closet, grab some clothes, and lock myself in my bathroom while Noah waits for me to get ready.

  The sun is shining today, and I squint against its brightness as we walk onto the front porch. Everything illuminates under the rays of light making the plants appear greener. Funny how a little light can make things prettier—happier. So, why doesn’t it have the same effect on me?

  The day goes by in a synthetic blur of slow motion. In a sea of excitement and celebration for summer to begin, I stand on a sinking island. Surrounded by hundreds of people, I’m alone, wondering why I can’t feel a particle of what they feel but wishing I could. I should be happy that I don’t have to come back to this place for three months, that I won’t have to face the ridicules and side-eyes. But, strangely, I’m not.

  I’m sad, and that breeds confusion because I don’t want to leave even though these people make me miserable.

  I’m still trying to unravel the mess of emotions inside myself when Noah pushes his way through a hoard of kids with a huge smile on his face. “There you are,” he shouts above the ruckus. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He takes my hand and navigates us to the parking lot. Once outside, he dramatically throws his hands toward the sky and rejoices, “Free at last!”

  I should laugh at this point, but it’s lost somewhere inside me. “You act like it’s a torture chamber in there.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  There’s an overwhelming urge for me to hug him and thank him for being my friend for these past two months. To tell him that he made my days a little more bearable and to release the tears I’ve been barricading. The desperation to cling to him in hopes that it’ll pull me out of this gloom is irrational, so I keep my mouth shut.

  “Let’s go to Taqueria El Sabor and get wasted on nachos.”

  I want to go. More than anything, I want to believe that spending time with him and filling my belly with carbs will pull me out of this funk, but I know better. There’s no faking my way out of this. “I wish I could, but my brother comes home tomorrow, and I need to help my mom around the house.”

  “Don’t you have a cleaning lady?”

  “She’s sick and cancelled this week, so . . .” I shrug, but he still pushes.

  “You’re kidding? It’s the last day of school; you can’t just ditch me.”

  “I’m sorry. Another time?” I offer.

  Disappointment presses down on his shoulders. “Yeah, sure.”

  He doesn’t say anything else as he turns and walks to his car.

  “Noah, don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not. It’s cool.” His words are just as fake as my own. “I’ll catch you later.”

  I toss my backpack into my car before sliding behind the wheel. The anarchy inside the building has now funneled out into the parking lot. Shifting into reverse, I look into my rearview mirror to back out of my space and find Sebastian, Brent, and a handful of other students clumped together. Sebastian has a cast on his hand as he lifts a flask to his mouth and takes a sneaky sip.

  That guy is such a douche. Not even a month ago, he got suspended for drinking, and now he’s at it again—on school property.

  I ease my foot onto the gas pedal and back out, but when I get a tad too close to their group, they get loud and flip me off before I drive away. After pulling to a stop at a red light, I grab my cell and text my brother.

  Me: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

  Before the light turns green, he texts back.

  Tyler: Same here. Hey, will you make sure Mom has those frozen bagel pizzas I like?

  Me: No problem. Anything else you want?

  Tyler: You know what I like.

  When the light turns green, I toss the phone aside and head to my mother’s flower shop so I can grab some cash to run to the store. I decide to bypass the perky girls she employs and pull behind the building to let myself in through the back entrance. I’m getting out of my car when another text comes through.

  Tyler: Oh, and don’t forget to get a case of Dr. Pepper!

  Me: Gotcha!

  When I look up from my phone, I spot my mother getting out of the passenger side of a familiar SUV.

  “Jamie,” a man calls.

  I duck behind the dumpster and then peek my head out enough to see my mom walking back to the SUV, the same SUV from the gas station the other week. The driver’s window is rolled down, revealing the same guy. But it’s when she leans her head in and the two of them kiss—like kiss, kiss—that my heart drops, hitting every rib on the way down. Horrified, I freeze, and when he drives off, my mom turns to walk into the building.

  She comes to an abrupt halt when she catches sight of me.

  “Harlow,” she says as naturally as she can, but her voice flits nervously. “Honey, what are you doing here?”

  I open my mouth, but all I can think about is my dad.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Is she seriously pretending that she didn’t just kiss a man who isn’t her husband?

  My hands have a death-grip around my phone, and the reality of what just happened has me choked up. I watch her neck flex as she takes a hard swallow, and wish I could turn and run so I didn’t have to look at her any longer.

  “Tyler texted me and wanted some things from the store,” I tell her, my voice also trembling. “I came by to grab some money.”

  “Oh, well that’s nice of you to go to the store, but I can do it if you need me to.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll go.”

  She’s already digging in her purse when she walks over to me. “Here,” she says, handing me several twenties. “Is that enough, dear?”

  I shove the money into my pocket, and without another word, I bolt. My hasty departure should be enough to clue her in that I saw and that I know.

  HARLOW

  Anger festers but shock prevails. I literally can’t believe that my mother kissed another man. How could she do this to my dad? To our family? I don’t want my parents divorcing, I don’t want any of this.

  I put the last of the groceries away, thankful that, in less than twenty-four hours, my brother will be here. I’ve already called my dad, but he didn’t answer. Since it’s seven in the morning in Singapore, he’s probably busy getting ready for work. I sent him a text, asking him to call me when he had some time. I need to talk to him, to let him know what Mom is doing.

  After I finish in the kitchen, I head up to my bedroom and pull out my notebook from under my mattress. Tingles begin radiating through my left hand as they often do—permanent nerve damage from cutting too deep. I shake them out as best I can before I open to the page I’d started yesterday as I tried to work through my current low. But all the thoughts are trivial in comparison to how I actually feel.

  Worthless, damaged, lonely, loser, outcast, hopeless . . .

  The list goes on and on until I can barely see the white paper beneath all the black ink that’s scribbled across it.

  I flip to the next clean page and sketch out a broken heart with sand pouring out of it.

  It’s my heart.

  Closing my eyes, I think back to the day I got brave with the blade. A part of me wondered what I would see when I dug it into my vein: blood or sand.

  It should’ve been sand.

  As minutes collect and form hours, my shock begins to evaporate, allowing the anger to rise to the surface. My hand aches, and when I push up my sleeve, I take the pen and trace it along my scar. The black ballpoint rolls over the pink line, and in an indefinable way, it soothes. I drag it back and forth, back and forth, inking my wrist until my eyes fall shut and the pen slips through my finger. Peacefulness washes over me, and I keep my eyes closed for fear that it will vanish if I open them.

  So, I don’t.

  Sitting in the center of my bed, I relish in the darkness and absorb the quietness. My muscles slacken, and I send up a silent prayer for me to live in this forever.

  “Harlow.”

  Another forsaken prayer.

  “Harlow,” my mom calls out again. “Can you come downstairs, please?”

  My eyes open, dumping me back into the harsh hands of reality. The sound of her voice punctures straight through me like a rusty nail.

  I drag myself off the bed and down the stairs where my mom is sitting in the living room.

  “Why don’t you sit down?”

  “I’d rather stand,” I respond defensively.

  She isn’t quick to speak as she fidgets in her spot on the couch. When she finally opens her mouth, she hesitates before noting, “You seem upset.”

  “You think?”

  “I feel it’s important that we talk about this.”

  “Talk about what? Your new boyfriend?”

  “Harlow,” she cautions, but it only fans the flames of my irritation.

  “I mean . . . that’s what he is, right? That’s why you kissed him?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable. How could you do this to Dad?”

  “I know this is confusing for you—”

  “No, it isn’t confusing at all,” I tell her. “You’re cheating on Dad. All I want to know is why?”

  “Marriage isn’t easy, and things . . . well, things have been strained between your father and I, and—”

  “And what? You’re bailing on us?”

  “No,” she says quickly. “I would never bail on you. And you need to know that I love you.”

  “What about Dad?” I ask as my throat tightens. “Do you love him?”

  “Of course I do. I’ll always love him, but sometimes in life, love shifts.” She leans forward and folds her hands together. “Your father and I have been dealing with a lot lately.”

  “You mean me?”

  “No.” She stands and approaches me. “This has nothing to do with you, and I need you to believe me when I tell you that.” She reaches out to touch my arm, but I shrug it away. “This is between your father and me.”

  “I called him.”

  Her eyes widen. “You what?”

  “I called him to tell him what you did.”

  “You told him?”

  “He didn’t answer.”

  She releases a breath of relief. “I need you to let me tell him.”

  “You should’ve already told him,” I snap.

  “I know, but I have to find the right time. I still care deeply for him, and the last thing I want to do is hurt him. But it’s best that it comes from me, not you. The two of us need to be able to sit down and talk face to face.”

  Emotions build, making it difficult to speak without breaking apart, but I force the words out anyway, asking, “Are you leaving Dad?”

  She shrugs. “That isn’t something I can really answer right now.”

  “I can’t believe you.” She reaches out once more, and I snap. “Don’t touch me! Don’t try to kiss my ass to save your own!”

  “Watch your tone.”

  “Are you serious?” I stride angrily across the room before turning back. “How can you say you love me when you’re throwing this family away for another guy?”

  “I’m not throwing this family away.”

  “I hate you!” My words come hard and fast. “All you care about is yourself!”

  “That is not true.”

  “This isn’t fair,” I mumble before strengthening my tone. “It isn’t fair that I’m stuck here with you.”

  Her shoulders drop, and I can’t stand to look at her anymore, so I stomp up the stairs, grab my phone and keys, and head back down.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just leave me alone!” I yell before slamming the door behind me and heading straight to my car.

  The moment I drive away is the same moment my tears fall. With my heart pounding out of rhythm, I drive through the night with nowhere to go. But nowhere is better than being at home—with her.

  Truth is, all I want right now is my dad, but he’s halfway around the world and won’t be back for another three weeks. I would go to Noah’s house, but the last thing I want to do is talk to him about how I caught my mother cheating on my father. In the end, I decide to go to my favorite spot at Marina Beach.

  The moon glows behind a veil of clouds, painting everything in a silvery hue. I sit in my usual spot and stare out into the rippling water. Gravity presses down, and the weight of it pains me. It’s in my heart, in my lungs, and in my bones. I ache all over, and when I think about our family being divided, I fold over my knees and cry. It was hard enough when Tyler moved out; I don’t want to imagine losing my dad too. Because that’s what will happen. I’ll be stuck with my mom, the last person in this family I would choose to live with, and there won’t be anything I can do about it.

  My phone rings, and when I lift my head and blink back the tears, I see it’s my dad calling. With a sniff and a hard swallow, I answer, doing my best not to sound as if I’ve been crying.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hey, sweetheart. I’m between meetings so I don’t have much time, but I wanted to call you back quickly. Is everything okay?”

  Nothing is okay. Nothing at all, but my mother’s words echo in my head, and as much as I hate to admit it, maybe she’s right. Maybe my telling him will only serve to hurt him more. Perhaps I should let my mom be the one to do it, let her impale that dagger into his heart and not me.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just really miss you,” I tell him.

  “I miss you too. It isn’t easy being away from you and Mom so much,” he says, and I grit my teeth when he mentions her. “Are the two of you getting along?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “Wasn’t today your last day of school?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Are you excited to finally be a senior?”

  I force a smile, unsure of why or for who. “Yes. I’m so over high school.”

  He laughs, and I hang on to the sound as hard as I can. “One day, when you’re old like me, you’ll look back and miss these years.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “You say that now, but you’ll see.” He pauses. “You’ll never believe what I ate for dinner last night.”

  “What?”

  “Reza, one of the higher-ups here invited me to his home for dinner with his family . . . I had no clue what I was getting myself in to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of the dishes came out, and I couldn’t tell what the hell it was. It was white and kind of looked like a brain. I didn’t want to be impolite, so I took a bite. The texture was all wrong. When Reza saw the look on my face, I asked what the dish was.”

  “What was it?”

  “Shirako.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you ready for this?” he asks and then tells me, “It’s fish sperm.”

  “Ugh, are you serious? People actually eat that?”

  Through his chuckles, he says, “You’d be surprised by the things people around the world eat.”

  “No way. That’s flat-out nasty.”

  “You aren’t the one who had to be polite and eat it!”

  “You mean you continued to eat it after you knew what it was?”

  “I didn’t want to be rude,” he defends, and I laugh—like, a real laugh, and it feels good.

  “I can’t believe you ate fish sperm.”

  “Remind me never to complain about your mother’s cooking again.”

  And just like that, the laughter is gone.

  “I really miss you,” I tell him once more.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.”

  “But then you’ll just turn around and leave again.”

  He sighs in the background. “I know my being gone so much isn’t easy on you. It isn’t easy on me either.”

  “I know. I just wish I had more time with you.”

  “Same here, but your brother will be there tomorrow. I know you’re excited to have him back home.”

  “I am, but it isn’t the same as having you home.”

  “Three weeks,” he reminds me, and I repeat, “Three weeks.”

  “I have to go now, okay?”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “Not as much as I love you, sweetheart.”

  Somehow, he manages to balm the wound my mother inflicted. Not entirely, but it’s enough to ease some of my anger. I know I should probably head back, but I’m not ready to go just yet. So, I remain and soak in as much solitude as I can, knowing that it’ll be short-lived once I leave.

  When I return home and walk inside, all the lights are off. I don’t dare call out for my mom—no need to stir the beast. Still, I peek down the hall that leads to her bedroom as I pass it and see the stream of light from under her door, telling me she’s awake. I tiptoe up the stairs and into my room, keeping as quiet as I can.

  After I throw on my pajamas, I lift the corner of mattress to grab my notebook.

  It isn’t there.

  I walk to the other end of the bed where I never leave it, but it isn’t there either.

  I stand and turn in place, looking at my desk, looking on the ground, and looking at my nightstand.

  It’s gone.

  My pulse catapults, and before I know it, I’m ripping through my backpack, yanking out folders, papers, and books, but it’s nowhere to be found. Heat scorches my neck, and fury locks my jaw. The nerve of my mom to sneak into my room and take the one thing that helps me cope.