It’s a new year and things are looking well. We haven’t heard anything from our mother, but I think that’s for the better. We’re starting to develop a new routine, Ethan’s making new friends, and things are good. We’re happy. If anyone had asked me last year if I thought things could turn out this way—the answer would’ve been no.

But Ethan and I were given a second chance. Eve has filled the role of loving parent in just a few months—something my mother failed at for years.

My new school isn’t so bad either. Football has been my refuge from all the changes in my life and I’m taking full advantage of every opportunity. Eve wants me to go to college too—it’s not something I’ve allowed myself to think about too much, but it’s in the back of my mind.

Tonight, is yet another first. I’m at the homecoming dance—not because I want to, but because as the quarterback of the team, I’m obligated to. I’m also here at Eve’s insistence. The ability to start over is not one many people get, and I’d be an idiot to give up on it.

I pull into the student lot, parking my car next to the same motorcycle I normally do, surprised to see it here in the first place. I didn’t think she was the kind of girl to come to the homecoming dance. Seeing Dimah every morning has become my daily routine. Maybe one day, I can actually get her to remove her headphones and talk to me.

I walk the short distance to the gymnasium, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of my sports jacket. Unfortunately, it’s a requirement of homecoming for football players.

Letting myself into the gym, I find streamers and banners everywhere.

I walk towards one of the tables and pour myself a cup of punch. I take a sip, spitting it back into the cup. It’s been spiked and not even with good alcohol.

I opt for a water bottle instead and stand awkwardly at the side of the room, scanning it. I don’t realize I’m searching for something until I find it. She stands across the room from me, shadowed and invisible. She’s wearing ripped dark jeans and a black sweatshirt, completely different from all the dresses and skirts every other girl is wearing.

She looks around the room then back down at her feet. My gaze is forced away from Dimah when a group of girls come to stand directly in front of me. I look at them expectantly, waiting to see what they want.

“Hey, Aron,” one of them says with a sultry smile.

“Hi,” I respond.

“You look great!” another one adds.

“Thanks.”

One of them—one of the cheerleaders—steps into the line of my body, resting her hand on my chest. “If you ever need anything, let me know,” she says with a wink.

When I don’t say anything in response, the group takes their cue to leave. In less than a year, I think I’ve become a different person. I’m wholly focused on getting through high school, going to college, and providing for my brother.

I don’t need girls to distract me. I don’t need alcohol to drown out my thoughts—my memories. I just need to work hard and take the good with the bad.

When my eyes return to Dimah, I find that she’s no longer there. I scan the room—searching for her and catching a glimpse of her leaving the gym.

Instinctively, I follow her, avoiding anyone who tries to stop me.

Out in the hall, I hear her thank someone.

“Whatever,” the guy says, snatching the cash from her hand and shoving it into his pocket. He pulls out a joint and hands it to her.

“What the fuck?” I say under my breath.

Dimah’s head jerks up then, her eyes widening when she sees me. Spinning on her heel, she hurries out the door.

Enraged, I stalk to Randall—one of the guys on the baseball team, shoving him against the closest locker. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I fist his shirt, slamming him back into the wall of metal behind him.

“Dude, what the hell?” he asks, confused.

I sneer at him. “Did you just sell her drugs?”

“Yeah, you want some?” he jokes.

“Fuck no,” I spit back. “If I ever see you selling that shit on school grounds—” I pause. “If I ever hear about you selling drugs to students at all, I’ll make sure you get expelled.”

“It’s just weed,” he reasons.

I look at him for a moment longer, feeling him squirm under my hold. “If I hear you’re selling this shit again, then getting expelled will be the least of your problems.” After a beat, he nods. Shoving him away, I watch him run back down the hall, disappearing through the gymnasium doors.

I take a deep breath, waiting for the anger to subside. When I feel like I’m calm enough, I walk outside, where I see Dimah leaning against the wall near the trash can. The end of the joint glows red as she inhales deeply.

Making sure to keep my voice neutral, I finally say something to her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing smoking that shit?” I ask, hoping I can convince her not to go down this road. This isn’t who she is, or who I think she is, anyway. I find myself too invested in her. I linger nervously, hoping she’ll give me the time of day despite knowing she has no idea who I am.

I wait for her answer because it matters to me.

Because for some damn reason I cannot fully comprehend, she matters to me.