Bed really is the nicest place on earth.

I’m lying under the covers, listening to Rhiannon getting ready for school, contemplating how I might go about convincing Mom I’m too sick to go to school. The big problem is that I spent most of last night forcing my sisters to run lines with me, getting panicky at the thought of my first drama presentation. Everyone knows what today is for me, which means Mom would need some serious evidence of illness before she’d let me stay home. When your mother is a doctor, actual evidence of being sick is hard to come by.

I drag myself out of bed and tap on the bathroom door. "I’m in here!" Reece yells from inside.

I glance toward Rhiannon for help, but she doesn’t’ even look up from her phone. Derrick?

Fine, I’m just going to wing the whole faking sick thing because there’s no way I’m getting up in front of the class of twenty-five people today to embarrass myself. That’s exactly what will happen. I’ll have to stand up on the pseudo-stage during class, and everyone’s going to realize what a cosmic joke it is that I ever signed up for a drama class at all. As it is, I can barely speak as myself in front of other people.

Trudging down the stairs, I do my best to come off as sickly and pathetic. Sometimes, the best strategy for convincing Mom I’m not feeling well is not to overdo it. More than once, she has filled in the blanks for me on what might be wrong, without my ever having to fake any symptoms. Of course, ninety percent of the time this plan has ended in her declaring that there’s nothing wrong with me at all. Despite her talents, it’s worth a shot.

When I enter the kitchen, Dad is the one hovering over the stove, cooking up eggs and bacon. "Hey, sweetheart. You’re up early." He barely looks up from what he was doing, I’m not convinced he even knows which daughter I am. Dad has never been what you would call a "morning person." Usually Mom gets up when we do and makes sure we eat—cereal and toast, the extent of her culinary abilities—we don’t see Dad until we get home from school, at which point my mom is at work.

"Where’s Mom?" I ask, trying to keep my voice raspy.

Dad looks up, concern shining in his eyes. "She got called into work around five. Mrs. McCluskey has gone into labor. It’s exciting stuff, but it means you’re stuck with me this morning."

This changes everything. Dad deals with us so rarely in the morning that he’s hardly heard any of our excuses for trying to stay home from school. There’s no denying that of our two parents, he’s the easier touch. I could actually pull this off. He stands at the stove in the room, studying me. I can tell he’s already trying to figure out if something is wrong. Only a gentle nudge would get him where I need him.

But when I open my mouth, I hesitate, surprising myself. In my head I see Jen’s face, frowning down at me from my subconscious. She’ll be so pissed if I miss our presentation. Even if can convince her that I really was sick, the chances of her ever asking me to be in one of her groups again is almost nothing. Plus, no matter what happens today, I’m still going to have to do this scene. After all, it’s part of my grade, and the rest of my group’s grades too. I can only avoid it for so long.

Crap. I do not want to have to deal with this today, or ever. Picturing what it would’ve been like to walk back into that biology class does the trick, and it’s obvious this is the lesser of two evils.

"If getting stuck with you for the morning means getting real food for breakfast, we both know that no one will complain." I do my best to smile without overselling it. "If you’ve got anything ready, I’ll eat now and then go get dressed once Reece has relinquished the bathroom."

"One serving of real food, coming right up."

* * *

I stand behind the curtain, waiting for my cue to go out and speak my first line. Our entire performance will last less than a total of five minutes, I wrangled myself the role with the least speaking parts, but it’s still way more than I’m really comfortable with. Obviously, Jen has volunteered us to go first.

Five minutes. Soon, I’ll be able to go sit back down on the floor and clap politely through the rest of the performances.

Fred practically snorts out his last line and saunters off stage, which is the signal for my character to start her nonchalant walk across to the other side of the room. The assignment was to put a new or modern spin on a classic performance, tailoring it to the style and issues of today. By the time Mr. Sullen had told us to break off into groups and brainstorm, Jen was already handing us our scripts. She had decided that we would be reimagining the classic battle scene from Romeo and Juliet as though it was playing out between a democrat and a republican. Frank had tried to point out that no one in our class could even vote yet, but Jen insisted that issues like these should matter to all of us.

I should introduce her to Rhiannon.

Or my mom. Jen seems like the kind of person that moms everywhere wish their kids would be friends with

I try not to look at the audience as I reach my place on stage, doing my best to embody an outraged, left-wing activist attempting to stage a protest. My first two lines tumble out of my mouth, in-eloquent and probably hard to understand. I stand frozen as Kent and Jen continued their fake romance between two people with drastically different political leanings, finding common ground.

The next two minutes happen so fast, by the time Mr. Sullen dims the lights indicating that it is all over, I’m completely dizzy and can barely remember any of what just happened.

But it’s over. No one seems to be pointing and laughing at me, at least not yet. I doubt anyone would call what I had done acting, but I said my lines, stood where I was supposed to, and I didn’t screw anything up for anyone else-- a better result than I would’ve guessed.

My heart continues to race through the next few performances, and it’s only as the class is winding down for the day that I feel like myself again. Except, now I’m a version of myself who survived acting for a crowd. If I’m honest, acting wasn’t much more uncomfortable for me then having to give an oral presentation. At least this time I had other people up there with me, prying away some of the attention.

I’m collecting my bag when Kent comes up behind me. "We did it. I’m not sure anyone else understood what Jen’s point was supposed to be, but it’s over. So, whatever. You did great."

I glance down at my feet for a second, unsure of what to say. We both know that what he said was a dirty, stinking lie. "Thanks," is all I can come up with. "But you don't have to say that. I'm sure my joining a drama class was one of my stupider decisions this year, and it hasn't even been a month."

"There’s nothing to worry about," Kent says, still smiling encouragingly. "We're all just kind of making it up as we go along, trying not to look ridiculous. Most of the time it doesn't work." Kent casually eyes a scrawny, black guy whose name I don’t remember. For his group’s performance, he dressed up in several different colors of bed sheets, and a towel on his head. I didn't get the significance, but maybe I wasn't supposed to.

"Well either way, hopefully I'll do better next time. I'm hoping I didn't scare Jen off the idea of working with me. Because let’s face it, I don't know anyone else yet."

"Ouch."

"I didn’t mean it like that!"

Kent grins. "Yeah, yeah. Actually, that's kind of what I'm here about. We were wondering if maybe you wanted to go into town with us after school. We'll just grab something to eat and call it a celebration of our success," Kent shrugs, "You're welcome to come."

I can’t help the smile that pushes its way onto my face, someone is asking me to spend time with them after school. More importantly, it’s Kent! If I don’t count Elise and Nadine, this is the first time this has ever happened to me, let alone at this new school. Kent must take my smile as a yes because he's already pulling a notebook out of his backpack, scribbling his number down on a piece of paper. He rips it out and hands it to me. "Awesome. We're meeting at the front doors after next period, but if you can't find me you can text me. I’ll find you. You know where the front doors of the school are, right?"

"Yes, I think I can find that much. I'll hold onto your number just in case."

With that, I'm off to math class. All the horrors of my drama performance forgotten with the excitement of my plans with Kent, Jen and Frank. I’m so glad I didn’t stay home ‘sick’, because one, the cutest guy I've met in Fairview wants to hang out with me after school and two, there are people now who have spent a decent amount of time with me and might want to be my friends. That's not something that happens to me often.

As I unload all of my math stuff from my bag onto my desk, I'm trying to imagine what I can talk about to make me seem somewhat cool, or at least not uncool. I wish I had time to talk to Reece before this, although she might have just psyched me out and make me worry more than I will already.

As I think about my sisters, I look around the room for Rhiannon. Her desk near the front is still empty and class is starting in less than two minutes. She comes to math class from lunch, so it's not like she could've been sidetracked by a teacher, which is the only thing that will make Rhiannon late for anything.

Reagan: Hey, where are you?

The response comes so quickly that I know something is up.

Rhiannon: Walking home. Didn't feel like dealing with math today.

I stare at my phone for so long that I have to shove it under my desk when the teacher passes, handing out the day’s worksheet. I’m not sure if Rhiannon has ever skipped a class before. If she has, she's covered it up better than the rest of us. Either way, this is completely unlike her.

I move slowly until I can get my phone in my lap so I can text a response. To be fair, skipping classes isn't like me either, I did it not that long ago.

Reagan: Is everything okay?

Rhiannon: Yeah, everything's fine. I had better things to do then go over a lesson plan I've already understood for a week.

She doesn't say anything else, so I stop myself before texting Reece or Riley. I don't know if Rhiannon would want me blabbing that she skipped class to anyone else. If something really is going on, I don't want to be the one to point anyone else in her direction because I know she won’t appreciate the gesture.

At the end of the period, I find Riley coming out of her own class across the hall, tapping her on the shoulder. The two of us try to sidestep out of the flow of teenagers trying to escape the building, since the school day has finally ended. Reilly has tied her hair back in a half-ponytail that still shows off the waves she’d curled into her hair that morning, causing her to miss Dad’s breakfast. We have the same face, but it’s impossible not to notice how much better she makes it look.

"So, it looks like it may just be you and Reece walking home today," I say. I hadn't thought this part through when I'd decided not to rat out Rhiannon to our sisters. They would notice when she wasn't with us to walk home.

"Oh?" Reilly's eyebrows shoot up. "Reece is staying late too. I'm pretty sure there's a boy involved."

Okay, I hadn't thought any of this through. Before Reece inevitably went off to hang out with the friends she already has, the four of us usually walk home together, something I might be able to relate to sooner rather than later. "Are you okay to walk home on your own?" I ask. Part of me is desperate for her to say it’s fine because the walk home isn’t that long. We were all going to have to do it eventually. Another small part of me knows how much easier things would be, if I let my sister guilt me into keeping her company on the way home. Talking to Riley will always be easier than even sitting in the same room as Kent.

"No, no. I'm fine. What are you getting up to?"

"Would you believe me if I said I had plans? My drama group…"

"Right! How did that go? I can't believe I forgot. This morning we were all taking bets on whether or not you’d find a way out of it."

I don’t have to ask who was betting in which direction, but since I had considered faking sick to avoid the presentation, I can’t judge. Much. "I royally sucked, but some people from my group asked if I wanted to hang out after class, so that means I didn’t turn myself into a total social reject with my performance. I figured I should just do it."

Riley squeals, clapping her hands together and drawing the attention of almost everybody left in the hallway. "Oh my God, that's so exciting! Will Kent be there?"

I shush my sister and step in closer, not wanting to be overheard. If someone mentions to Kent that I was talking about him in the hallway, I’d have to give up and leave town. "Yes. Not that I care." I emphasized the last line, hoping Reilly will take the hint.

"Sure. But as soon as you get home, I want to hear everything."

I shrug. I was probably going to tell her everything anyway, but if things go badly, I want to reserve the right to sulk about it on my own.

"So, where is Rhiannon then? Some study group?"

"She's…" I debate how much to share, but, in the end, I’m not willing to lie to Riley. Not about something like this, especially since Rhiannon hadn't said anything. "She skipped class. I don't know when she left, but she wasn't in math. When I texted her, she had already started walking home."

"No way." Riley stares at me, but when I don’t contradict myself, she continues. "You're serious?"

"Yeah, apparently she didn't want to deal with math today. As if any of us ever want to deal with math."

"Rhiannon even likes math. As much as that's actually possible."

"Well, she should probably be home when you get there so maybe you can figure out what's going on. I thought she was starting to act more like herself again, but you never really know with her."

"Probably just having a bad day. It would've been weirder if she'd made it all the way through high school without skipping a class."

"Fair point. So you're sure you're okay walking home by yourself?"

"Yes, Mom. I can manage to walk home all by myself." She sticks out her tongue. "You’ll have the best time. If you need anything, just call. You can do this."

"I hope so," I say as the two of us walk toward the front of the school. "If not, then you'll be stuck with me as your weird, spinster sister forever. I hope you're planning to buy a house with enough space for me and my books because if I screw this up, I’ll probably die alone, friendless."

"Don't even talk like that! You put way too much pressure on yourself. You're way overthinking all of this. These people asked you to hang out. They want you to be there."

That’s the second time today I’ve been accused of overthinking things. "You're not about to tell me to be myself, are you?" I ask as we push open the door from the main lobby. Immediately, I spot the green in Kent's hair close to the parking lot. Everyone is already waiting for me.

"Do whatever you want, just don't worry so much. You're great and everyone will see that."

I resist the urge to give my sister a hug. If only everyone else was as nice as she is, I'd have no trouble meeting people. Neither she nor any of my other sisters are going where I am now, so I will have to figure this out all on my own.