The worst moments of my life were spent in a high school. I couldn’t wait until that chapter of my life was over and done with. Waking up each morning knowing I had to go back there was the worst feeling in the world.

“Boney Bones, I see you decided to dress like shit again,” a kid called my way.

I didn’t know who it was, and I didn’t have any drive to look up to try to figure it out.

Keep your head down and try not to get noticed, I told myself every single day. Only five hundred and sixty-two days until graduation.

I hated school, and that was putting it mildly. If I’d had the choice, I would’ve never gone back, but Mom had this addiction to the idea of my sister and me getting our high school and college diplomas, because she hadn’t been able to get hers. She wanted us to be better than her, do more than her, succeed more in life.

I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead, though.

I was just trying not to get a wet willy on the way from math class to history.

“Hey, Elliott,” a person said from behind me.

I didn’t turn around, though, because if they weren’t calling me Boney Bones or Brace-face or Piece-Of-Shit-That-Should-Commit-Suicide, they weren’t talking to me.

“Elliott! Hey! I’m talking to you,” the voice called after me. It was a girl’s voice, and they definitely weren’t talking to me if it was a girl’s voice. “Hey!” A hand landed on my shoulder, making me halt my steps and cringe. I always cringed when someone touched me, because normally touches led to fists in my gut.

“Why are you cringing?” the voice asked as I slowly opened my eyes.

“So-sorry,” I whispered, almost certain she didn’t hear me.

“Why does everyone bully you?” the girl asked me—and it wasn’t just any girl, it was the girl. Jasmine Greene.

The prettiest girl I’d ever seen.

I raised an eyebrow at her, uncertain as to why she was talking to me. Jasmine was new and insta-popular. I wasn’t the type who ever received attention from the popular kids.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. I wasn’t the type who ever received positive attention from the popular kids.

“What?” I questioned, baffled that she was looking at me.

“I said, why does everyone bully you?”

My eyes darted back and forth, making sure her words had been spoken for me. “I, um, I-I-I—” I cleared my throat and my shoulders slouched. “I su-su-ffer from stuttering?”

“Is that a question?” she asked, walking backward toward the theater so she could look me in the eyes. I hated eye contact, especially with girls like her. Pretty girls were the worst. They always made me sweat through my T-shirts, and there was nothing I hated more than sweat stains—except for my own voice.

Jasmine’s hands wrapped around her backpack straps, and she smiled as if we were friends.

We weren’t friends, not that I wouldn’t want to be her friend, but, well, we just weren’t.

“Is what a question?” I responded.

“You just said, ‘stuttering?’ as if it were a question.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so…?”

“It’s not a question. I have a s-stuttering issue, but, like, a mild version. I’m not a freak.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Oh.”

“People bully you for that?”

I nodded.

“That’s a stupid reason to bully someone,” she remarked.

“I’m sure they also bully me due to my looks.”

“What’s wrong with your looks?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding me? Look at me.”

She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. Her lips parted, and she spoke softly. “I am.” Her voice was like Princess Leia, and I liked that more than I wanted to admit.

“Yeah, well, you’re nicer than other people. Since we’re in high school, they don’t need much reason to bully me, but I guess I give them plenty.”

“Assholes,” she murmured.

“It doesn’t b-bother me.”

“It does bother you.”

“You don’t know what bothers me.”

She smiled knowingly.

I smiled knowingly back.

Man, it was hot. The palms of my hands were sweaty, and I couldn’t imagine what was happening in my armpits. She was pretty and talking to me in a non-bullying way. People as pretty as Jasmine never talked to people as awkward as me in a non-bullying way. I was really confused, and every person we passed seemed just as baffled as they saw the two of us speaking.

I held my arms out a bit to air out my pits.

“You play the saxophone?” she asked, still walking backward.

“Yes?”

She smirked. “Is that a question?”

I broke my stare away from her and cleared my throat. “No. I mean, y-y—” I blinked my eyes shut and took a breath. “Yes, I play the saxophone. How did you know?”

“I saw you performing on the corner of Frenchmen Street.”

“Oh.”

“Do you perform down there a lot?”

“I didn’t used to, but my Uncle TJ sa-said I should every Saturday. So, now I have to since he’s my music instructor.”

“Why does he make you do that?”

“Because he said music shouldn’t live in a basement. It’s meant to be spread around to fix people’s scars or something. I hate doing it.”

“Well, you’re probably alone in that hatred.” She paused her steps and looked at me with the sincerest eyes. “You’re the best musician I’ve ever heard.”

I didn’t have a clue what to say, so I just stood there staring at her like an insane person.

“Elliott?”

“Yes?”

“You’re staring at me, and it’s a bit weird now,” she stated, combing her dark hair behind her ear.

“Oh, sorry, but, well, thank you?” I shook my head a little and moved my stare to the floor. “I mean, thank you…for the compliment. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome?” She winked before she turned away to talk to someone else, because other than being ridiculously pretty, smart, and kind, Jasmine was popular. I’d never seen someone become so popular as fast as she had.

Jasmine Greene had walked into Canon High School as if she owned it. She’d started a few weeks into first semester, but that hadn’t stopped her from acting as if the whole student body deserved to bow down to her, and bow down they did. As a junior, she had the popularity of a senior. She excelled at everything she took part in, from arts and crafts to algebra.

I hadn’t even known she knew I existed, even though I knew all about her. I was still wildly confused, though. Why was she being so nice to me?

The moment she started talking to someone else, I let out the heaviest sigh of my life.

“Eli,” a familiar voice said, and the nickname indicated that it was a safe voice to hear. I turned around to see my older sister, Katie, standing behind me with a concerned look on her face. Her stare moved down the hallway to Jasmine. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“You were talking to that new girl, Jasmine.”

“Yeah, so?”

Katie cleared her throat and stood up a bit taller with her books in her hands. “What were you talking about? I just don’t understand why she’d be talking to you.”

“Wow, thanks,” I said wryly.

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, Eli. You’re just better than those people.”

“Those people?”

“Ya know, the Chanel bag girls—the popular kids.”

“You wanted a bag like that last year.”

“I know, but that’s not that same, and I don’t care about things like that anymore. Plus, I saw her talking to Todd Clause, too, ya know, and if he’s her type—”

“Maybe I’m her type too,” I joked, puffing out my chest. “I am pretty…” I blinked my eyes shut tight. Muscular—just say it. The word is muscular. My throat tightened, knowing the word I wanted to escape from my mouth and trying my hardest to say it. “I think I’m pretty…” Nothing. I choked on the air and my mind raced, trying to think of another word, a synonym that could work in place of muscular. Anything…anything would work, but once I started panicking, words were impossible to find. I took deep breaths and tried to push out the word. “I’m pretty…” But it didn’t work. It hardly ever did. “I think I’m pretty beefy,” I finally choked out, my ears burning from the struggle, my face bright red.

“Beefy?” Katie giggled. “Elliott, you’re as beefy as a chicken wing.”

I laughed as my face started to cool down from the pressure of trying to pronounce a simple word.

My sister never mentioned my stuttering, never made me feel bad about it. Normally she just whistled or hummed to herself and patiently waited for me to finish. Sometimes she’d stop looking at me, because she knew having someone stare at me made it more difficult. She never tried to guess the word I was trying to say, either, because she could tell how much worse that made the situation.

Katie grimaced and nudged me in the arm. “Look, I know with Jason off in Nebraska for the year, you’ve been a bit lonelier…”

“I’m not lonely,” I lied, and Katie knew it was a lie, too. My best friend Jason had moved to Nebraska for the year, and with him gone, I really had no one to talk to except for my sister.

I hated that.

I hated how hard it was to be alone all the time.

“Just be careful,” Katie warned, like the overprotective sister she was. “I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.” She gave me a smile before walking off. Katie might’ve been my sister, but she didn’t have the same social struggles as me. She was beautiful, like Mom, and well-spoken like her, too.

Her choice not to hang out with the popular kids was due to an incident that happened the previous year. Before that, she was one of them, the cool ones, but now she kept to herself. She didn’t care much. At least I didn’t think she did. She always said there were more important things than being popular in high school.

She had better things to do, like focusing on where she’d be going to college next year.

She’d never admit it, but one of her full-time jobs was making sure I was okay. Part of me hated her for watching over me the way she did, but mostly I was thankful to have a sister as caring as her. She and my mom were above and beyond the definition of love. Yeah, high school sucked, but at least I knew when I went home, I’d be okay.

Every night, the three of us ate dinner together at the dining room table. Mom always cooked, too. We never ate takeout. She’d learned to cook from Grandma, and she always went the extra mile. She said comfort-food and conversation were staples of her childhood, and she wanted it to be the same for us, too.

“How was school?” Mom asked, setting a roasted chicken on the table next to all the side dishes she’d prepared. Dinner always felt like a feast. Even though we didn’t have much, we always had food on our plates, which was more than some people could say.

“It was good,” Katie said, scooping up some mashed potatoes and placing them on her plate. “Brooke has a new boyfriend.” Brooke was Katie’s old best friend, and after the incident, they never talked. Katie said she didn’t mind, but she sure seemed to still know a lot about the ins and outs of Brooke’s life.

“Again?” Mom rolled her eyes, sitting down in her seat. “Didn’t she just start dating Trey?”

“Travis,” Katie corrected. “Trey was three boyfriends back, but now she’s with Tyler.”

“She sure likes the letter T,” I said with a grin.

“She likes all letters if they’re attached to a boy’s name.” Katie laughed. “But ya know, she likes making bad decisions.”

“As long as you’re not following her bad decisions,” Mom said.

“Trust me, Mom, I have no time for high school boys. They are so last year. I’m waiting until college to even consider dating.”

“Well, if you ever become friends with Brooke again and she’s interested in the le-letter E, keep my name in mind,” I joked, biting into my chicken leg.

Mom raised an eyebrow at me. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“I had a good day.” I witnessed it happen—Mom’s eyes watering over. “Don’t cry, Ma,” I groaned.

“I’m not gonna cry,” she lied, wiping her eyes. My mother was an emotional lady. “I just haven’t heard you say you had a good day in a long, long time.”

“Every day is fine,” I told her.

“Yeah, but not good. It’s just…” She sniffled and kept wiping at her teary eyes. She gave me a smile, the kind that made me feel her love. “I’m just really happy you had a good day.”

I shrugged my shoulders and continued to eat.

Mom wasn’t over it, though. She crossed her arms and rested them on the table, staring at me with stars in her eyes. “Any reason?” she wondered out loud. “For the good day?”

“Nope,” I replied.

“He spoke to a girl,” Katie blabbed.

“Katie!” I hissed.

“Eli!” she hissed back.

“A girl?!” Mom hissed with her own excitement. “Tell me more.”

“It’s nothing,” I told her.

“He’s right, it’s nothing. She’s not right for him,” Katie agreed.

“Why is that?” I asked, somewhat offended. “Because she’s popular and cool and I’m not?”

Katie’s eyes grew gloomy. “No, Eli, of course not. It’s just that girls like her are a dime a dozen, and you deserve something with more meaning, someone who understands you more.”

“Maybe she does understand me.”

“Maybe, but there’s a much bigger chance she doesn’t,” Katie argued.

Mom kept smiling at the exchange between my sister and me. She always found it comedic the way Katie and I talked things out. She just stood by as a mediator most times. “Well, you know what I think?”

“What’s that?” I replied.

“I think you had a good day today,” she told me. “And anything that helps you have a good day is fine by me.”

“But, Mom, you don’t know what this girl is like. She walks around with her makeup and designer bags and—” Katie started, but Mom shut her down with a calm hand raised in the air.

“I’m sorry, Katie, did you just judge someone based on their possessions?” Mom questioned, her stare growing stern. “Because I’m pretty sure judging someone based on what they have is just as awful as judging someone for what they don’t have. How would you like to be judged for your non-designer bags?”

Katie grumbled and lowered her head. “Sorry, Mom.”

“Look, I get it. You love your brother and don’t want him to get hurt, but you’re not always going to be around to protect him. He has to make his own choices, and I think that’s all there is to say about it.”

Katie apologized again then went back to eating, and I did my best to hold my smile inside.

I loved when Queen Mom overruled Princess Katie.

And I kind of loved having a good day, too.