“Why’re y’all so quiet?” Annaliese’s voice held a sharp edge. I dared to glance up, but shrunk away, my shoulders hunching.

Around me, the group of girls I called my “friends” glanced about for a moment before meeting Annaliese’s gaze.

Annaliese stared back, and I could hear her gum snapping in her mouth. “Like, I know I talk a lot,” she shifted her weight from foot to foot, “but y’all just don’t talk at all.”

My gaze wandered to her reddish-blond hair, studying the late summer light reflecting off it. In my peripheral vision, I saw Annaliese’s steel-grey eyes narrow at us.

Us. More like them.

Resisting a discomfited shift, I stayed silent, inadvertently proving Annaliese right. But as I glanced towards the other girls, attempting to meet their eyes but only managing to focus on their hair, I realized that they, too, didn’t seem inclined to speak.

Off to my left, Jessalyn brushed her molasses-colored hair over her shoulder, creating a cascade down her back. The distant, slightly color-changing leaves I saw behind her complimented the warm, hot cocoa tone.

Jessalyn’s head tilted, a small curve appearing on her lips as she studied Annaliese. “It’s more interesting to listen.” She shrugged.

On Jessalyn’s other side, Emma nodded, then glanced at me for a moment. She frowned, turning her shoulder to me and facing Annaliese.

My shoulders fell slightly, but my expression didn’t change.

“Coral?” This voice was clipped, unlike Jessalyn’s warm tone. I tensed.

Coral, Coral, Coral… speak up. Show them you’re more than random thoughts and silence.

Stiffly, I turned to Annaliese. My gaze made it up to her nose—perfectly straight and devoid of all freckles—then stalled. I nodded hesitantly, fighting to raise my head a bit higher.

Forget about looking. Speak now, Coral. Speak.

Panic gathered in my chest, restricting the amount of air I could suck in. I opened my mouth, trying to speak around it, but I couldn’t even feel a breath leave my mouth.

I can’t. I can’t force the words out. I’ll never be heard.

“Why do you never talk?” The clipped voice from before had lost a smidge its edge.

A shiver coursed through my body, the involuntary tremble shaking me despite the warmth of late summer that surrounded us like a sticky, heavy blanket. I stared at Annaliese’s nose blankly, the words echoing.

Why do you never talk, Coral? Why can’t you be like everyone else? Why can’t you understand that your voice is too quiet? It’s not too loud like you think. Your feelings are a lie.

The words I wanted to say formed on my tongue and the image of myself speaking them came to mind, but the single phrase stuck to my tongue, clinging and never letting go. I closed my eyes slowly, my body slumping.

Make it worth it for me to fight this, to fight it harder, and perhaps, perhaps I’ll speak to you. Perhaps I’ll learn to manage to do so.

“It hurts,” I mouthed, a breath passing over my lips. No sound escaped.

The stares settled on my skin, burning and heavy, joined with a chill that crept over me, bringing trembles that threatened to shake my whole body.

“Did she just say something, or did she just mouth something?” Annaliese’s voice managed to be soft and yet hold the same edge I’d heard a moment ago.

Talk to me. I’m human. I may seem mute, but if you give me a chance, I’ll try to make it worth it. Maybe I could manage it. I could. I do it for my family. Please… I just want a chance.

“I think she just mouthed something,” Jessalyn replied with a shrug. Even her gentle voice brought no relief to the pain that I could feel in my chest.

I’m human… Tears pricked my eyes as the final plea died in my mind.

There was a loud exhale, then I saw Annaliese shift. “Well, anyways…”

I tuned her out, trying to suck in an even breath and dull the pain. Her talk of makeup and whatever else she tended to talk about didn’t interest me. I didn’t care.

I didn’t care for much of anything. Not when I hurt so much.

Letting out a raspy breath, I turned to the railings of the pavilion beside me, hand reaching out to touch the reflective white before stopping, my thoughts washing over me in a wave.

Emma had requested to meet at Andover Park instead of a café of Annaliese’s choice. I couldn’t imagine why, the patchy grass and half-trimmed bushes seemed to be more aesthetically painful than anything, but I was much more inclined to study the change of scenery and tune out the conversation happening around me.

Colors flashed in front of me, green as they moved, brightening in the sun. I knew it was one of the bushes that surrounded the pavilion, but I only saw blurs, like a camera that was pointed at the light but unfocused on the objects around it. Dots.

My hand fell to my side, away from the railing. No touches, Coral. You don’t need more pain.

I heard a giggle behind me, then wandered a few steps towards the gap in the railing, right before the steps leading out onto the park lawn. It was a clumsy, teetering walk—my steps were far from stable—but I moved.

“I mean, it’s nice to know that people are paying attention when I’m talking to them.” A snippy voice cut through the mental bubble I’d created and my foot froze mid-air as the words echoed in my head.

It’s nice to know that you’re paying attention, Coral. Great job…

The blurs that clouded my vision seemed to sharpen and then grow blurrier, a buzz in my head accompanying it. The staticky, sharp whisper of abstract words hurt my ears despite their inaudibility.

Don’t talk about me. I managed to push past the crowded thoughts. I’m trying. You’ve hurt me enough today. I’ve hurt myself enough today. If you want to do something, stop my pain.

“I don’t expect the lady who did my nails to care about my life, but can she at least not act like she thinks I’m a spoiled brat?”

The air around me grew heavier, pushing my shoulders down.

Even coincidence wants to hurt you today.

The thoughts grew louder, building off of each other until they were just a cacophony of noises in my head, meshed together too thoroughly to be pulled apart. It was just pain on pain on pain.

I glanced back at the girls. Better me hurting myself than them. Better my own painful thoughts than sharp expressions that make no sense.

The thought didn’t help, despite my faint hope that it would bring justification. Pain was pain.

“Stop,” I whispered, then winced as I heard my own voice. Even the whisper seemed sharp, staggered and unusual. I’m human, too…

I lifted my head, still looking back, and noticed that the girls had shifted towards the other side of the pavilion, leaning against the opposite railings as they formed their own little cluster in one of the many corners. Effortlessly, they’d continued without me.

A heavy wave crashed over me, and I shook my head. My stomach clenched, my anxiety spiked, and the blurs grew more insistent. A pressure grew at my back, trying to get me to bend.

I’m going to lose it. I’m going to snap. And I did.

Slumping against the railing for a moment, I held on tight as my spine arched and my shoulder blades reached for each other. The end result was an entirely tensed body that was growing achier by the moment.

Stop. Stop.

I pled with myself, with the body that wasn’t responding to my attempts at moving. Frantically, I found myself reaching for something in my head that’d make it easier, that’d make me move.

It hurts. Please. It hurts.

Clumsily, I managed to move away, down the steps of the pavilion and onto the grass. I stumbled as the ground went from hard to soft, fumbling for a handhold. My hands landed hard on the pavilion steps as I slowly crumpled. Shakily, I tried to lower myself the rest of the way down, praying that it seemed purposeful enough that nobody would approach.

Leave me alone, you frauds of friends. You strangers who may see me. Let me break in peace.

My body curled inwards, knees to my chest with arms clasped tightly around them. My short sleeves shifted on my arms and faint pin pricks danced across my skin. I lifted a hand to rub at my opposite shoulder, but it only spread the feeling of little sparks jumping down my skin.

You lie, brain of mine. There’s nothing touching me. I looked at my hand, where I felt prickles. There’s nothing there. My shirt touched me by my shoulder, and yet, I get pain across my whole arm. What is wrong with you? I sucked in a shaky breath, rubbing my hand hard on my jean shorts. To think, there are times I wonder why I hate you so.

I leaned my head on my own shoulder, idly rubbing my hand on my clothes still. The sparks and pin pricks didn’t fade, instead growing with every brush. The pain in my shoulders and back, and the numbness that was spreading into my legs wasn’t helping.

I leaned my head on my own shoulder, idly rubbing my hand on my clothes still. The sparks and pin pricks didn’t fade, instead growing with every brush. The pain in my shoulders and back, and the numbness that was spreading into my legs wasn’t helping.

One, two, these pins do.

Three four, send me to the floor.

Five, six, I think I’m sick.

Seven, eight, me I hate.

Nine, ten, just give in.

Loud laughter echoed in the pavilion. “Oh my gosh, and school starts tomorrow, too.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, they have us starting on Wednesday…”

My body managed to stiffen further as cruel thoughts came to mind. Are you ready for school, Coral? Are you ready for the people? For the bumps in the hall that cause things like this to happen over and over again?

Bile rose in my throat as I thought of it, of the noises and number of times I’d be touched by something, by someone.

The voice kept going. And these friends will ditch you just as quickly as the previous ones. You’ll be alone in the halls, be stuck with random people when others are pairing up for school projects. You’re alone, Coral. You’re worthless and friendless, just as you always are.

The building pressure steadied as I fisted my hands together, digging them into the grass. Disconnect. The voice in my head dissolved into nothingness, leaving only my raspy breaths and my tiny form, curled up on the steps. There was an ache in my back and a sting in my eyes that meant tears were threatening to fall.

Don’t fall. I can’t. I—

I only managed to breath in raspy breaths and strangled gasps, my thoughts managing to echo the insults.

You, the voice reappeared, are just a broken little girl who curls up on the ground as her “friends” are laughing obliviously behind her. You dwell on things that I bring to your mind.

“I’m not—” I ran out of breath before I managed to get the words out, choking on the remaining ones. “I’m not dwelling on them. I’m trying-trying to beat them.” The words were weak and I slumped onto my knees a bit. A single tear escaped and dribbled down my cheek; I let it go unchecked.

If you call that a fight, then you were doomed before you even began. Pitiful.

I swallowed hard, the pressure behind my eyes building. My lips pressed together and I shook my head roughly, my hair brushing across my face and sending more pin pricks down my body.

“You’re wrong,” I hissed, shakily standing up. I grabbed onto the railing as spots clouded my vision again, nausea heightening.

For a single moment, I stood there, then looked back, watching the girls through blurry vision. They don’t care… Dizziness crashed over me, the world starting to spin. I turned away, tried to focus on the ground in front of me, and began to unsteadily walk.

I will prove this. I am human, and I am strong.

***

My arms felt like lead at my sides as I practically dragged myself down one of the main halls of my school. I’d spent at least half the night tossing and turning, replaying what had happened at the pavilion repeatedly until I’d cried myself to sleep. My eyes were dry now, but the numb exhaustion clung to me. It was too much for me. I was too much for me.

Now you get to keep shoving through things. Good luck, weakling.

I didn’t see the girls anywhere, but perhaps that was good. Perhaps I could avoid them long enough to pull myself together. Perhaps they hadn’t ditched me just yet.

Complicated, overthinking, hopeless. They aren’t your friends anymore. You walked away, Coral.

I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, the blue of my jeans blurring in my vision as I tried to walk straight.

A pair of feet appeared in my view and my head snapped up, the world tilting for a moment. Everything sharpened a bit as my eyes widened, finding the person just in time for me to stumble to a stop and shift to the side, dodging them. Only seconds later, I lowered my gaze and began it all over again.

My arms hurt, my legs hurt. Everything just hurt. And my head… I shook it. Nothing made sense.

Let’s see how long you can make it without having a meltdown, Coral. The voice hadn’t given me a break almost all night. It didn’t seem to be close to doing so, either.

Something brushed against my arm and I let out a faint squeak, shrinking into myself and shying away. Pulling my arms close to my chest, I returned to my attempt to weave through the crowd.

Dodge the people. Dodge, dodge.

I came to two people who were standing back-to-back, leaving almost no room to pass between them in the hall. Standing on my tiptoes, I sucked in my breath, trying to squeeze behind them.

The person on my right shifted back a single step, her billowy blouse brushing against my hip and brown hair managing to brush my bare arm.

A whine rose to my throat as tingled rushed across my skin, but I swallowed against the shock of pain, my body trembling as I pushed forwards unsteadily. As I did so, I nearly fell into someone else.

Get better at this, you idiot. The voice came back with a taunt. Walking like that is going to get you more hurt. Your brain can’t process gentle touches, Failure. You’re just as worthless and retarded as you’ve been made out to be.

An image came to mind, of blurry faces and laughter. The feeling of standing stiff flooded me. Laughter, laughter…

Failure, the voice hissed. That’s all you are and that’s all you’ll ever be.

I blinked rapidly, shaking my head. Looking at my feet, I saw that I was standing still in the middle of the crowd. Failure. It echoed in my head with the distant laughter of long ago.

My teeth ground together as I pushed myself onward. The ache in my chest was familiar, accompanied with an urge to let out a shrill whine in the hopes that it’d give me some relief.

“Are you okay?”

The phrase rose above the din of the rest of the voices in the hall, but I kept pushing on. I was talking to myself. That’s all I ever did. Nobody would ever really care for me. They’re all a bunch of lying fakes…

My steps slowed, the ache in my shoulders trying to take precedence over my thoughts. The pins and needles that kept racing up and down my skin when I was brushed seemed to build, sharpening each other until they became too much. My ears rang with the noises in the hall.

A whine pressed harder against my throat, but I swallowed harder, pressing my eyes shut for a moment. I hurt… but I can’t cry. No crying, no whining. You’re normal, you’re human. You need to control yourself, you baby.

The words echoed again. Failure, failure, failure.

I reached for some sort of way to combat the whines more easily, but I wanted release, needed it. I grappled for something out of reach, a control that never touched my hands.

A face appeared in front of me and I froze, wobbling as my feet suddenly stilled on the dented tile floor. Around the whine in my throat, I managed a very quiet, “sorry,” then slid to the left. Something else appeared in front of me and I stopped again, blinking fast. I looked up a bit more, then frowned.

It’s the same shirt… the same shoes…

My eyes widened slightly, then I experimentally moved to the right slightly. The figure moved with me.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I glanced up further, noting the pointed chin and pale lips. My eyes wandered before they could rise further. What do you want? I wanted to say, but my mouth wouldn’t even open, much less produce words.

“Are you okay?”

I heard the phrase again, but this time, I knew who had spoken. The person’s voice was deeper, but not so low that I felt the vibration of it.

I didn’t move, leaving his words to hang in the air as the voice in my head began speaking.

Why does he care? You were just squeezing between people. What were you doing to make him think you weren’t okay, Coral? What did your face do? Why can’t you just control what your face does? If you looked miserable, then someone was bound to ask about it.

I gritted my teeth, swallowing and shaking my head, realizing belatedly that someone was watching me. I tried to force my face to turn blank, but I couldn’t remember how to do it as my mind spun.

“Hey.” The person crouched slightly to look me in the eye. A boy.

My whine escaped in a squeak and I looked at the floor, the image of the lower half of his face etched into my mind. No eyes, no eyes. My breath stalled for a moment, then rasped out in a shaky attempt to continue breathing. You didn’t see his eyes. You’re fine.

I swallowed hard and sucked in a long breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m…. fine.” The long pause between the two words was the result of the world moving too fast. There was too much to process and too little time to do it. Everyone always took it as hesitation. “I’m fine,” I tried again.

He didn’t move.

Tears pressed at my eyes and I bit my lip, willing the pain to overtake the urge. “Please let me by,” I tried to say, but I couldn’t even feel air crossing my lips. Did I speak?

I saw the boy’s chin, watched it going up and down. I waited to hear something amid the other voices, but I only heard the same din of too many conversations. Did he talk? Nod?

“Are you... looking for someone?” I could only assume it was his voice, but he had long since finished talking.

Why would he want to know? the voice demanded. What does he have to gain? You’re nothing. Nothing! You can’t escape from me, your own mind, or say what you want to say. Why would he want to help you?

I shook my head, finding myself agreeing with the voice. “I’m fine.” I blinked as I heard the words. That was the wrong thing to say…

The world seemed to shift to the side, tilting. Perhaps the tears in my eyes were messing up my vision, or maybe I’d moved. I didn’t mean to, but perhaps, perhaps…

My feet scuffled, knees nearly buckling as weight suddenly landed on them. After a moment, I straightened, blinking rapidly. Falling. I almost fell.

I saw the boy’s mouth move to say something then felt something bump into my side, sending me flying to the right. I saw a flash of the wall, my arm rising, then I felt the hard pressure of my hand hitting against the wall. A second later, I heard a smack. Delayed. As tingles spread down my body from my shoulder, I stiffened, looking down. Pressure seemed to land on my shoulder, but I knew that it was already there. Stop being so slow, idiot.

I looked down at my shoulder, staring at the hand there. Still leaning against the wall, a low whine escaped as I resisted a tremble. As more pin pricks rippled away from my shoulder, dots appeared in my vision, nausea building in my stomach.

There were warbled voices, a few words breaking through the mental fog. The blurs muddied everything, erasing figures until I just saw colors.

“Are…” I heard silence. “Okay?”

I blinked slowly, trying to figure out what was happening. The pressure on my arm suddenly disappeared, the sparks on my side already falling away, but my arm continued to tingle with sensory inputs gone wrong. Jerkily, I rubbed it against the ‘injured’ side, shaking my head. My vision blurred more and I wobbled, stopping both motions to catch myself.

A new pressure landed on my left forearm and I gasped, leaning against it. After a moment, I realized I hadn’t moved. Staring at my left arm, at the pale blur that was on it, I tried to tug again.

Then I was pulled in the opposite direction, my feet scrambling to keep me upright. Raising my head, I tried to focus—to see—but all I saw were blurs. Bad, eyesight. Bad, bad, bad.

My sternum ached and I sucked in a shaky breath, still feeling like I needed more air. Everything was moving and yet staying still. I could feel my feet scrambling to find the ground, but there was no conscious decision being made to do so.

Lost, lost, lost…

Straining against the blurry vision and slow processing, I tried to push myself back into the present, but I just kept floundering. Ever so faintly, I heard a faint rasping, a staggered cluster of gasps. That was the only guess I had as to whether or not I was breathing.

I want to feel, I want to see. But I am nothing, nothing, nothing…

White flashed, the world spinning around me. I could hear echoes in my head but none of it made sense, I couldn’t figure out the words. I strained to, searching for clarity.

“Are… okay?”

I recognized them, the tone and the words. Are… okay. I felt my arm lift as I reached for the voice, then I squeaked and pulled back once I touched something. No touch, no touch.

My vision unblurred ever so slightly, the fluorescent lighting overhead bringing tears to my eyes as I kept pushing to see. Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus on what was in front of me, on who was in front of me.

A chin, a mouth, a nose. It all focused and I managed to keep my vision low, avoiding the eyes.

“Are you okay?” The words were muffled, but they were clear, understandable.

I kept blinking, the awareness of my limbs washing over me. I’m standing… I shook my head slightly and focused on the shoulder of the person, eyeing the shirt. Familiar…

My eyes widened. He’s from earlier. He grabbed my shoulder. He-he… My memory dissolved into blurs, becoming flashes of coherence that slipped through my fingers before I’d managed to grab them.

“I’m fine.” My voice was flat.

“You aren’t—I can tell you aren’t. I want to help you, but I don’t know how to. I… please let me help.” His voice was soft, but it was too fast—too fast for me to easily understand. It didn’t hurt, though. It was quiet, gentle. Quiet was better. Always.

“Why?” My voice was slow, uneven; the thin words barely made it out before my throat tried to close. Stop, stop. One moment more, please. Please cooperate. That’s all I ask. Just for a bit, cooperate. You can stop functioning in class. Or after class. Or… another time. Just give me a warning. Let me prepare. Not now. Let me speak, just for a bit. “Why… do… why help?” The words wedged themselves out of my tight throat, my mind fuzzing more.

“Because you’re hurting.” His voice was soft, cracking slightly. Why? “And you need help.”

I don’t know your name. I don’t need help. I don’t. I don’t. No help, no you. No.

“I don’t… your name.”

“My name is Jace.” His chin lowered, eyes dropping to meet mine.

My eyes fluttered shut as I turned away, but I moved too slow. I saw the blue, the green, the meld of the two that made up his eyes. The eyes, the eyes. My stomach flipped and I held my breath for a moment, then let it out in a long sigh.

“I don’t… no need. No help.” I wobbled, though, barely able to straighten myself.

“But you do need help, and I want to help you. Please, let me help you.”

My eyes closed against the brightening lights. They were turning blurry again, the noises in the hall turning into an echo. I heard the lights humming above me and pictured the bugs caught in the light shields. Too much, too much.

My thin hold on focus snapped when I heard the soft sound of fabric rubbing together. Movement. Human be moving. Eyes flying open, I stumbled back, wobbling slightly as the fear of being touched flooded me.

He hadn’t moved, though. He stood in the same place, his chin pointed towards me, watching.

A tremor worked its way down my body as I managed to steady myself, barely staying on my feet. I could fall… Looking down, I saw how far I had to fall to the floor. The five and a half feet seemed like a scary length to fall.

“Maybe… maybe help,” I managed, voice wavering. Shame flooded through me, my shoulders falling. It’s a wonder I’m still upright, I thought to myself.

The sharper voice took that as permission to speak, retorting, It’s a wonder you’ve managed not to collapse on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as the world fades in and out of focus.

I winced at its accuracy.

Another voice chimed in, this one soft, audible. It was more soothing than the buzzing of the lights and better at drawing my attention than the myriad of voices in the hall.

“Thank you.” It was low and soft, nice.

You’re welcome, I managed in my head, staring straight at the boy, at Jace. Don’t make me regret it.

***

Early spring blusters whirled around my head, sending chills down my body from where it brushed my neck. With a shiver, I pulled my jacket closer to my body, ducking my head into the collar. Even as it warmed up to the more summer weather, the wind hadn’t seemed to get the memo, spreading cold generously.

“Okay,” Jace said, falling onto the cold bench across from mine. He didn’t seem affected by the cold, his jeans skirting above his ankles and sleeves ending an inch from his wrist. “Why has the school year passed so fast?”

The wind attacked me again and I reached up to pull my collar tighter against my neck. “Most people complain about it passing too slowly,” I pointed out after a short pause.

“I’m not most people,” Jace returned immediately. I blinked rapidly, staring at him. After a very brief silence, shorter than mine, he turned to look at me more intently. My gaze lowered slightly, just barely avoiding looking into his eyes. “And you’re not most people either. You’re Coral.”

I frowned at the unnecessary emphasis on my name.

“I mean, we’re both getting older, so that’s a plus, and then our grades… well, yours are better than mine; mine are a bit iffy.”

We sure aren’t getting younger. I made a face, then belatedly realized the entirety of what he’d said. “Your grade good,” I refuted, then winced as I realized my terrible phrasing. Stupid childish processing.

“Not as good as yours!” Jace leaned closer to me, perched on the very edge of his bench. “You’re like a genius, Coral.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking down and rubbing the tip of my black sneaker on the brick path between the benches. It seemed that only I knew the truth. I’m actually a failure, Jace. I’m dumb, not a genius. Stop lying.

“I mean,” he continued, “there are at least three people in class who have really good grades, but I’m sure you’re the smarter of the three. And then I’m somewhere… probably closer to the bottom. The teachers never seem to be able to read my handwriting, no matter how neatly I try to write. On the corrected Physics test we got last week, Ms. Hann had written the correct answer under my answer, but it was the same thing as what I’d written!” Jace let out a groan. “At least your handwriting isn’t some combination of English and chicken scratch.”

I mean, technically… everyone’s handwriting is just that. Mine’s just a bit neater somehow.

I didn’t voice the thought, instead tilting my head and forcing a smile. “I think your handwriting has character.” My voice lilted at the end as I tried to mask my naturally flat tone.

Jace let out a long breath. “I wish our teachers thought so. One of them wrote “write neater” on my homework a while back. I didn’t lose points for it because my answer was correct, but…” I saw strands of his long, dirty-blond hair wave slightly as he shook his head.

“Well, it’d be a bit weird to find a sticky note that said, ‘I love your handwriting,’ on your homework next to the grade, wouldn’t it?” I shifted towards him slightly.

Jace’s face pinched. “Ouch.”

I frowned, confused. “Ouch?”

“That’d be some intense sarcasm if someone did that to my handwriting.”

My head tilted slightly to the side, but I forced myself to straighten and nod. “Hmm.”

You should’ve known that would seem sarcastic, Coral. You should’ve known. Sarcasm was one thing that always flew over my head.

The breeze tickled my ear as it picked up again, and I realized that it’d been fairly nice outside as it slowed. The chill brush of my skin threaded into my body, a fuzz of confusion growing in my head. My hair blew into my face despite my ponytail, tickling my cheek, resulting in much of the same.

I shivered, hunching over and pulling my jacket close again. “Do you ever…” I paused, searching for the words. “Do you ever think that some of your relationships are just… take and take relationships?” I looked at the dead-looking plants around us, the hedges and the crispy white grass instead of at Jace, but I knew he was listening. I trusted he’d do that much.

“What do you mean?”

I felt his eyes on me and glanced up, seeing his chin before flinching away. Failure. You weren’t even close to seeing his eyes. “Nothing,” I mumbled, fidgeting with my jacket more.

“No, seriously. What did you mean? I want to know.”

For a moment, I didn’t reply, swallowing and shivering against the cold tingles that came with the breeze touching my bare skin. “Us. Use us as an example. Do you ever think that I take from you and never give in return? Have you ever done the same?”

A heavy feeling spread over me and I resisted the urge to squirm. He’s staring.

“No, Coral, that’s not…” I heard a puff of breath but didn’t know what it meant. “Why would you think that? You have no idea how much you’ve helped.”

I forced the appropriate frown—since when have I helped him any?—and shook my head. “Have you ever thought that we might just be friends because of the ‘opposites attract’ theory?”

“Why would you say that?”

I hesitated, unable to tell whether he was asking out of scandalization or if he was actually curious as to why I’d said that. “You listed off the handwriting thing—we’re so different in that aspect. Just think about how many other ways we’re different.”

“Just because we’re very different doesn’t mean that we’re drawn together because of that. That theory only applies to romantic relationships.” Jace let out a small laugh that sounded more like he was clearing his throat. “I believe this is just a friendship.”

My eyes widened and I froze, the urge to squirm strengthening. Ick, romance. “Not necessar—"

Jace’s phone interrupted me, the ringtone louder than I was. No longer, did I want to speak.

You’re too quiet, Coral. You aren’t even louder than a ringing phone.

There was another long puff of breath and I heard fabric rustle as he reached for his phone. After a few seconds, he sat there, phone in his hand. He swiped the screen, lifting it up to his ear. “Hey.”

I waited, my focus wandering as I tried not to listen in on Jace’s side of the conversation. I tapped at the grass growing between the bricks, listening for the tiny crunch of the seemingly frozen blades. It didn’t come.

Spring is coming.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen or so.”

The phrase made me pause, my gaze shifting from my sneakers to Jace’s blue converse. I waited, focusing on something that wasn’t there yet. Waiting for it.

“That was my mom.” Jace’s voice was slow. I saw his hand drop back to his side. “She needs me for something, but we will continue this discussion, you hear me?”

I nodded, blinking slowly.

“Good. See you soon, Coral.” And without any display of affection, he left.

I watched his receding back for a moment, before looking at the bench where he’d been sitting. There was no mark left, no sign of him having ever been there.

I really hope I’m not tricking myself into thinking he’s a good person out of desperation. I want a friend, but do I want one enough to make one up? To make things up? To make him seem nice when he’s not?

When I turned to verify that he was real, he was already gone. My eyes fluttered shut and I swallowed.

Real or not real. Real…. Or…. Not…

***

Sometimes, when the sun was shining down on me, being outside was nice. With the warmth of the sunlight along with the lack of confinement, I felt free, almost. But then I was also bombarded by sensations and paranoia, and in the end, I wondered if it was worth it.

Emotional confinement was something that even the comforting, late-spring breeze couldn’t blow away.

“Hey.” The voice’s pitch was low and familiar, but the tone itself was not.

I turned to find Jace. “Hi.” My voice was soft as I studied my friend. Swallowing hard, I glanced up at his eyes for a moment, but they told me nothing about his feelings, as usual.

I looked back down as tears sprang to my eyes. I wish I could just understand…

“How are you?” Jace asked, his voice still sounding unfamiliar. Why was it different? What did it mean?

I was silent, forcing myself to look back at his face. I felt my face twist as I concentrated on finding some sort of meaning for the arrangement it was in, but it meant nothing to me. It was just Jace. Why can’t I do this much? Jace doesn’t sound okay, but I don’t know why.

“What’s wrong?” I asked instead of answering him, jaw tight as I kept watching his face.

Jace was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting away. “Just one of those days.”

I struggled more against the tears. Why can’t I understand this? Why do I have to push so hard to understand things? Why can’t I just let the person say things like that and understand it and not have to push? “Jace,” I managed. “I don’t know what that means.”

He tilted his head up, meeting my eyes. I froze, fighting both a tremble and the intense urge to look away. “I don’t feel great, Cor.” I kept watching him, silent. “I feel… I don’t know.” He looked away, and I felt a sliver my tension ease, the rest turning into worry. “I get like this sometimes. I usually just figure that this is what depression feels like.” He shrugged, the action seeming limp. “I’ll survive.”

I stilled, staring at him. He thinks—no. Not Jace. Not him. Leave him alone, depressing feeling. I know how to handle you, but he won’t. He doesn’t. He shouldn’t have to learn.

I glanced him over, then grabbed his hand, starting to pull him despite the red-hot prickles that ran up my arm.

“What are you doing?” His voice had changed in tone, but yet again, I couldn’t tell why.

“Forcing you to walk it off,” I chattered through tremors. Let go! they shrieked.

I held on tighter.

He was silent for a moment, then he resisted my tugging, scuffling along behind me. “Stop.”

“No,” I replied immediately, my voice unaltered.

“Yes. Coral, why are you touching me?”

I stopped, fighting a whine. He thinks I’m disgusting… I shouldn’t have—

My fingers let go of his abruptly, as if the burn skipping up my arm and across the rest of my body had gotten worse. If I counted the sharp pain in my chest, it had.

“That came out wrong.” Jace cleared his throat. “I meant… you hate touching people, Coral. Why are you…” He trailed off, then shrugged, leaving his sentence without an end.

If it was possible, I stiffened more. He can’t know. He can’t know what you go through.

“Why would you do that?” Jace leaned towards me slightly, ducking closer, trying to meet my eyes.

“You needed to get up and move,” I told him flatly, holding still and allowing him to try to look into my eyes. “Sitting around and letting yourself spiral backwards does not help at all.”

Jace was silent for a moment. “You feel like this, don’t you?”

I didn’t say a word, lifting my head up slightly, glancing up at his right shoulder, then looking back down.

We stood there in silence, the only exception being the breeze brushing past.

“Thank you.” It was Jace’s voice, but there was another change I couldn’t pin.

I swallowed and tried to look at his face, then sighed as my gaze stalled at his shoulder. “There are things I don’t do because I’m incapable of doing so.”

I knew Jace would want to ask why—everyone did it. People didn’t mean anything by asking the question, they were just curious. In the end, it meant nothing.

“Then there are things I do despite hating them because I’m too scared of what will happen if I don’t.” I didn’t meet his eyes as I said it, instead studying the faint cracks in the sidewalk under my feet. I swallowed hard as the silence stretched long.

“Coral… what if the person isn’t worth it?”

I bit down on my lip, the pain grounding me. Don’t voice my worst fear, Jace. “I never know if a person’s worth it I just try.”

“But—”

If you knew what I went through every day, you’d realize why I don’t say a word about my own pain. It seems pitiful what I go through—it’s so stupid—but I can’t stop it. I can never stop it; it just happens, happens, and happens. But if I can push through it, even just from time to time, and it’ll make people notice that I’m trying to help them… well, maybe that’s worth it.

And perhaps I’ll find the nerve to speak up about it, I thought to myself, a thread of heaviness working its way through my body.

I shook myself. Go away, darkness. You don’t have a place here. I won’t welcome you, not today; not when I have a purpose for a little bit.

“Isn’t everyone a bit like that?”

I felt myself stiffen, straightening to my full height. “What do you think is in my head, Jace?” I turned away from him, studying the building closest to us. A car goes by on my left and I turn to the road, to the rest of the world that could just be watching this conversation.

Are you going to show them who you are, Coral? Or are you going to be normal?

“I think you’re scared, but everyone’s scared, Coral. Everyone. We all have insults we throw at ourselves and mood swings we can’t explain. There are things we think and worry about even though people tell us that we shouldn’t.”

I’m not normal. I’ve tried, Jace. I’m broken.

Tears pressed at the back of my eyes and my fists clenched, but when I looked up and looked him in the eye, I wasn’t filled with the horrible, indescribable feelings like usual.

This time, I was just a little human, hurt and angry.

“I’m not who you think you are, then.” My voice was low, deep. It sounded loud to me, confirming that the words were audible, complete with the jagged tone they scraped out with. “Because what you described barely even touches what I go through.”

I turned to leave, something grazing my shoulder as I did so. A shriek ripped itself from my throat and I ducked, scrabbling forward. Whirling back, I gritted my teeth to prevent stranger noises from escaping. “What do you want?” I spoke the words slowly, my hands curling into fists.

“I want you to give me a chance.” His voice, in contrast to mine, was quiet and gentle. Nothing like the shrill screech that had burst out of my mouth. “I want to understand. Correct me where I’m wrong.”

Why would someone ask for that?

I tried to look at him, but my eyes wandered to his shoulder. I felt empty, fumbling for words to say.

“The Coral I know is quiet, kind, encouraging, interesting, brave, and loveable.”

I shuddered at the last word. I’m the furthest from loveable. “Nuh.”

“As a friend,” he clarified hurriedly.

I paused, shaking my head. “My own mind is against me, Jace.” My voice was back to being quiet; I wasn’t sure I liked it. “I am nothing. I am capable of nothing and am nothing. I couldn’t even get you out of your bad mood—”

“But you did! Look at me! Do I seem to be in the same mood?”

I looked at him, my eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes,” I replied shortly. “All moods are basically the same for me. Either I think something is off or I don’t; something certainly feels off right now. That’s all I ever have to go off of.”

Jace frowned. “But you… what? You’re usually the first to tell when something’s off with someone, whether it’s me or just some random person in our classroom.”

I looked down at the ground, staring intensely at it. Why does this always happen? Why is this always how it goes? “Why do you think I notice, Jace? How focused do you think I am on that kind of stuff?”

“Not very. Why would you if you can’t understand it?”

My question exactly.

I straightened, staring intently at his shoulder as my voice rose both in tone and in volume. “I spend hours trying to gauge people’s emotions and failing. I can point out that something changed, but while anyone else can just look over and know what they’re feeling, I can’t!”

“I can’t either.”

I froze, my gut clenching. For a moment, dozens of thoughts ran through my head. My various diagnoses could mean nothing, the things I thought I knew about myself could all be false, everything could be disproven so simply just because someone understood me.

How could I not be alone? How could a normal person ever relate?

“What do you mean?” My voice was back to a monotone, walls forming between Jace and I.

“Coral, I have to work hard to understand people’s emotions, and even then I get it wrong a lot. That’s normal.”

Are you able to identify more than a single negative and positive emotion? Are your identifications reliable enough for you to get through a conversation with a person without freaking out over the fact that you’ve upset them when you haven’t? Do you often have people joking around with you as you panic about “angering” them?

I was silent, shaking my head and turning away, prepared to leave; then the air behind me moved.

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.” The words were spoken in a low, even voice that seemed to escape of its own accord.

“Coral…”

“I am not who you think I am, and you are not who I thought you were, either.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say! Coral, I’m not trying to pin my thoughts onto you. I’m not trying to tell you who to be.”

I shook as angry confusion flooded me. “Then what are you trying to say? Who are you telling me to be? Myself? Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I want to understand, Coral. That’s all I want. Absolutely be yourself, but also let me actually get to know you. Not just the Coral that hides and is silent as things she feels get suppressed before they can really show on her face.” His voice was low in both pitch and volume. “I want to know what it’s like to be Coral—what happens in your head that makes you go from near silent to staring me down, sparks flying in your eyes.”

I don’t have sparks in my eyes. I can’t. They aren’t supposed to be there.

I’d explained things over and over and over again—explained who I was. Either I was begging for attention or I was making up stories. Nobody had ever dared to believe me.

I turned back and looked him in the eyes, unable to force anything except that. As my eyes wandered away, though, I felt myself grow ever so slightly lighter, daring to hope.

“Sit down, and I’ll try to explain.” It was a whisper that barely made it out of my throat, but perhaps, perhaps I’d managed something louder than the whisper I tended to manage, because he sat, and he faced me, and then he said in a voice barely louder than mine,

“I’m listening.”