I look up at the blue sky, not a care in the world. Nothing to me matters except having acceptable grades and a happy life.

Yes… my life is carefree, and I’m one of the smartest students in my small class. But something’s missing. What is it?

Two disturbing years pass as I try to answer that question. What is missing? I scream in frustration, in my head of course. I am known as the quietest girl not in the grade but in the whole school, which offered grade levels from a three-year-old’s to an eighth grader.


I turn and come face-to-face with someone whose face I had forgotten years ago.

L. looks at me with his huge innocent brown eyes, waiting for an answer. Without words, he begs me to say something–absolutely anything. He wouldn’t care if I said I hated him. He just wants to talk. I walk away. This is what I’ve forgotten and need, but I’m scared to admit it. I need someone to talk to besides my best friend–someone who knows me inside and out, the face behind the mask, someone who likes me for me, even with my darkest secrets that hurt them. And it just had to be him.

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