I feel Laura tug my skirt up, pulling on my button-up shirt from the back.

"Laura," I say, like a warning. The hands disappear.

"I'm just trying to get you to look nice!" She says innocently. "Your shirt was tucked in too tight. You could see your stomach too much."

The warning bell rings, and I take my books and my binder from my locker and lock it. My cross swings out from my neck a little as I turn on my heel, and then the light wood thunks back against my chest. It's a wooden cross, and it's old. It was my grandmother's, until she gave it to me. It's the reason my mother bother to send me to the Catholic school, when there's a perfectly fine public school just minutes from our house. But no, I'm up at 6:30 every morning, getting ready to drive 45 minutes to school to be there for 7:45. I have to stop and pick up Laura and Emilie, and then we stop by the coffee shop. I never have to buy the coffee—it's part of the perks of being the only one with a car.

We slip in and take our seats by the back, scooching to be perfectly perched on the stools. First period is biology, and I'm not even awake yet. I need to start drinking something stronger, I think. But it's too late for that now.

We call our bio teacher Mr. Mister. It's not his real name, but when he gets mad he always says "now listen here, mister!" even if it's a girl.

Mr. Mister flies into the room, slamming down his travel mug as the bell goes. He is just on time, and he grins wickedly at us. Mr. Mister is not very good at showing up on time, and last week someone's parent complained. Now he squeaks in every morning and assigns us twice the amount of homework.

"Alright boys," he says to a room that is 70% girls. "Hand in last night's homework. And after that, take out a pencil. We're having a pop quiz."

"I thought you didn't believe in pop quizzes," Amelia says.

"Now listen here, mister! I make the rules. I am the master of this domain…"

We all stop listening, the classroom equally filled with his voice and the sound of opening and closing binder rings and pencil cases.

A soft beep cuts off Mr. Mister's rant.

"Mr. Reece?"

"Yes?" he sings, wagging his eyebrows at us because he's actually in class to receive this message from the office.

"We have a new student here for you. Can you send someone down to come get her?"

"Sure thing Miss." Mr. Mister croons. Gag.

I bring up a stack of homework and set it on his desk.

"Amelia, go get the new kid." Mr. Mister says, and I take my seat again as Amelia pops up, grins at us, and struts out of the class. She should be back by the end of the period.

The girl never makes it to class, and Amelia misses the lesson on carbohydrates, proteins, lipids, and nucleic acids, and their function within cells. Thrilling stuff.

Two periods later I'm pulling my lunch out of my locker and listening to Laura's account of Josie's account of the new girl.

"And then, like, Josie scrunched her face up, and like, said she was super pretty but like, stuck up. Her dad is a hot piece of ass, apparently." Laura said, twirling her short brown hair. She got a bob about a month ago, and was always encouraging me to cut my hair.

"You look like one of those girls in a religious cult." She had told me as I braided my hair into two French braids. It doesn't even reach my waist, but it's thick and dark brown and gets unbearably curly if I don't tame it.

"Celia, are you listening?"

"Yes," I say, locking my locker. Emilie pops up beside me.

"Did you hear about the new girl?" Emilie asks.

"I'm just telling her!" Laura says, upset to have someone stealing her thunder. The bickering pair of them disappear into the cafeteria, and I am left to claim our usual table. Our caf is pretty small, and people tend to have their unassigned-assigned seats. I sit in front of the corner, looking out into the cafeteria as I open my massive salad. I shake the dressing container and dump it out over the spinach, chicken and goat cheese. Mm.

I look up in time to see a lone girl, lunch bag to chest, wandering through the cafeteria. The tables are all taken, and the roar of conversation begins its decrescendo. She's looking for a place to sit, perhaps alone.

I stand, hoping the wounded gazelle will catch my gaze in the sea of hungry lions. She does, and I smile and beckon her. She scuttles over, dropping down across from me.

"I'm Vanessa." she says breathlessly, pushing her long, curly red hair over a shoulder.

"I'm Celia." I say, extending a hand. She shakes it. She's gorgeous, no pores on her ivory face. She looks more like a porcelain doll than a person. And her hand is pleasantly warm, though not moist. She smiles at me, her eyes flashing over me. I realize now why people say she's stuck up. It's definitely intimidating to be under her gaze. To put it nicely, I have a jolly face and a jolly body. Ho ho ho. Merry Christmas.

"You're in my first period Bio. We all knew Amelia was never going to make it back to class."

An invisible force dusts some rouge across her cheeks. "Oh. Yeah, I couldn't get her to hurry. She showed me around, which was nice, but…"

"Don't worry. Mr. Mister doesn't have a memory for that kind of thing. Oops, I mean Mr. Reece. Well, you'll know what I mean soon enough." I babble. In the meantime she scoots back into her chair and opens her lunch bag.

"This isn't a very big school." she says.

"Only about two fifty. We're a quarter of the kids in the county." I say, opening my water bottle. "You're from out of county, then? You didn't go to Redridge?"

"No." she says. "Some of my siblings go there, but I wanted to try and make some friends. They keep to themselves a lot." she says, and then glanced around like this was secret information.

"Nothing wrong with that." I say.

Over her shoulder I see Laura and Emilie making a pit stop by Josie's table. Almost the whole caf is looking at us.

"Well, everyone'll be a bit nosey at first, but it'll calm down in a week or two. My family moved here two years ago. It doesn't last."

"Where'd you move from?" she asked, and then we both launched into our boring background stories.

"I'm sorry about your parents. I heard divorce isn't a good time."

"No," I say, "but what can you do?" Not much.

Laura and Emilie finally make their appearance, apparently gaining enough courage to come face to face with the ethereal being sitting opposite me.

"OMG, Celia, introduce us!" Emilie commands, sitting her tray down beside Vanessa.

"Emilie and Laura, Vanessa. Vanessa, Emilie and Laura." I say, doing the hand motions.

"It's so nice to meet you," Laura says, laying it on thick. "And you came at a good time—only two weeks till semiformal, and the day after that is Halloween! You should totally come shopping with us this weekend."

Vanessa seems taken aback, but the pleasure of acceptance is clear on her face. "That sounds like fun. Where are we going?"

Emilie gives her the itinerary, and then looks to me. "We should have a sleepover on Friday, Cece! Then we can help you a bit with the Halloween stuff."

"Sure," I say. "Mom is in Barrie with Ryan until November 8th."

Emilie turns back to Vanessa. "Celia runs this charity decorating thing for Halloween. She decorates her front yard and people bring a couple dollars for the hospital or cans for the food bank so they can trick-or-treat there. What did you raise last year, Celia?"

"Six hundred dollars and over three hundred non-perishables." I say, blushing. "It's not really a big deal, though."

"It's also a party after ten. Food, scary movies. Then we all take a walk through the forest and have a bonfire by the lake." Laura said. "It's not like a house party, or anything. About twenty people. And you have to have a costume, for when the kids come. They're coordinated." Laura says. I eat my sandwich while they entice her.

"It sounds like fun," Vanessa says. "I'd love to come."

"Of course you're coming!" Emilie butts in. Vanessa looks at me and I nod confirmation, my mouth full of food. "You just have to come to semi, too. It's the Friday, and they're having it in the ballroom of the hotel…"

I notice Laura and Emilie sitting up more than usual. Maybe it's my imagination.

The warning bell rings and we stand up. We all have English together, which isn't a surprise. Emilie and Laura each take one of Vanessa's arms, and I follow behind, shaking my head at them.

I park my car in the garage and click the button to close the door.

My woodshop sits on the opposite side of the two-car garage. It was a sorry-for-ruining-your-life gift from my mother. My car is the same thing, but from my father, before he died.

The house is silent for a second before I hear Freya running down the stairs and skidding across the floor.

"Hello hello hello!" I say, giving her pats and kisses until she calms down. Her whole goldendoodle body wiggles as she follows me to the kitchen. I put in a slice of white bread to toast and dig through the fridge for an ice tea. I was okay at school, but I was surfing the wave of depression and now I was falling off and drowning in it.

I opened the cupboard and considered taking another happy pill. That's not how they work I reminded myself. Besides, if I came up short before I was supposed to, my mother would freak out. Her worst fear was that I would sell drugs or take too many of my own to get high or something. I scan the medical cabinet and jump when my toast pops up.

She should be worried about me killing myself.

I put the toast on a plate and take out the Nutella and strawberries. When my gourmet dinner is ready I walk over to the couch and sit through a couple hours of Netflix. It doesn't make things better, and around 9 I take out my homework and give that a shot. Nope.

Around 3 AM I wake up Freya with my crying. She comes and sits beside me on the couch. I put and arm over and hide my face in her curls.

My alarm goes off at 6 and I jump awake. I have so little sleep I immediately begin to cry. I cry over to my room to charge my phone. I cry in the shower. I cry as I put on a new uniform. I cry as I pack a simple lunch, take my happy pill. I cry as I get into the car. I have to stop halfway to Emilie's to put my makeup on in the car and calm down.

Laura and Emilie are happy with their new plaything. Vanessa has insisted that we call her by her nickname, 'Nessie'. It doesn't make a difference to me, but tweedle dee and tweedle dum are over the moon. I eat my bag of celery in silence as they plan our weekend. When I'll pick them up, where I'll drive them. I let them plan. Maybe it's for the best that I'm busy this weekend.

When I get home I start decorating, just for something to do. It's hard work, and to make myself feel better I weigh myself before I start. I'll weigh again at the end of the week, when I'm done most of the hard labour for the party. Today I dig tiny trenches for the gravestones and set up the solar lights. It's dark by the time I've finished, and Freya is exhausted from running around the yard. I heat up something from the freezer and numbly watch Pretty Little Liars. I watch the same episode over and over, because I can't pay attention.

I drag my weary body up to my room and kneel by my bed. I stopped believing in God a few years ago, but something about kneeling on the floor helps me sort out my problems.

I cry for a few minutes. I'm a baby. I just have one year left, and then I can die tragically. It has to be a fluke, a freak accident. Maybe a drunk driver, or I'm drunk on a roof at university and I slip off. Then my mother can officially marry Ryan without feeling guilty, and take care of his snotty children.

I just have to be strong, for a while. I can be strong.

Freya hops into bed with me and pushes her nose against my neck.

Friday follows like an annoying younger sibling.

The last bell rings, and within minutes we are sardine packed into my car. Emilie has claimed the music privileges. Laura is backseat driving, insisting on a trip to the grocery store before we head home. I agree, I don't care.

When we get to the grocery store I push the cart. Laura and Emilie make a few jokes about "Celia snacks" versus everyone else snacks. I'm used to this, like you get used to a headache. They drop healthy snacks into the small part of the cart, the Celia portion.

"That's not very nice." Nessie says after the nth joke. Emilie looks horrified. "We don't really mean it!" she insists. "Celia knows it's a joke, right Cece?"

I nod. This is where I'm supposed to nod.

Nessie gives a shrug. "Okay." she says, but looks back at me as Laura and Emilie compare the calories of different Doritos.

Nessie sits on my bed, her fingers in Freya's hair, Freya's head on her lap. Emilie sits at my boudoir, and I sit in front of her as she tries her hand at some sort of intricate braiding twisting extravaganza.

"There aren't any good hairdressers around." Emilie mumbles, her mouth full of bobby pins. Laura translates for Nessie, and I sit quietly, happy to have someone doing my hair. Laura opened all my bags of nail polish and was in the process of sorting through them. We are discussing what colour dresses we should get.

"I was thinking of reusing my dress from last year." I say. Laura wrinkled her nose. "Ew, no. You looked like a hippo in that. Grey is not your colour."

This was an awkward comment, as I am sitting in my favourite grey sweater and maroon leggings.

"Nessie could pull off grey." Emilie said, trying to transition. "Darker grey, but not too dark."

"Yes!' Laura agreed. "You can't wear anything too dramatic to semi, or else you'll have nowhere to go for prom."

The doorbell rings and Emilie sprays my hair with hairspray before we all race down the stairs.

"It better be the pizza. I'm starving." Laura says. She rips open the door as I grab my wallet. But it isn't the pizza delivery boy (Michael).

"Hey Seth. I thought Jake was bringing my stuff?"

Nessie squeezes through all of us. A massive man stands in the doorway. You can tell he is ripped through his shirt and jacket, but his face is sweet. And he is staring at me.

I gulp, crossing my arms and trying to push my tummy in.

"Jake was busy. Alice gave me the address."

Nessie plucks the bag from his grasp and looks between us.

"Okay, see ya at home." she says, and pretty much slams the door in his face.

"Who was that?" Emilie whispers, grabbing Nessie's arm.

"That's just Seth. One of my brothers."

"He can't be your brother!" Laura says. "He's tan, you're pale. You're fragile, he's… built."

Nessie rolls her eyes. "I'm adopted. He's adopted. All my siblings are adopted."

"And what? Your dad only adopts hot people?"

This strikes a chord with Nessie, and we stand there for an awkward second before there is another knock at the door. This time it's Michael.

Pizza smooths everything over, and Nessie is in a good mood by the time we're lounging about the living room, munching on chocolate. Laura sips her ice tea and relays the county gossip to us. Her mother is a nurse at the hospital, and I'm almost certain some of the information is classified.

"So that's why Jackie and Richard broke up." she finished. Emilie begins the judgement portion of the gossip. Nessie and I weigh in very infrequently. Freya sits between us.

Laura takes it upon herself to get the ice cream. It's tradition that we eat it in mugs. She hands them out, and I'm taken aback by the lack of ice cream in my mug. There's only a spoonful in it. We make eye contact and she stares vacantly at me. I feel a bit sick.

I sneak down to the kitchen at 4 AM to have a snack and take my happy pill. I always hide it when Emilie and Laura are over—nosey is their middle names.

"Don't freak out."

I squeak and drop the pill bottle. Pills go everywhere, and in the light of my phone I see Nessie's pale face. We look at each other, equally horrified.

"Sorry," she whispers.

"I-it's fine," I say, bending down to pluck the pills from the floor. I can't miss a single one, or my mom…

Nessie bends down and starts picking them up with me. I realise I'm crying, which is super embarrassing, but she doesn't say anything. We both press our faces to the floor and scan for anything sticking up. We think we have them all.

"Thanks," I say, wiping my face off on my sleeve. We're both sitting on the tiled floor. She lifts and drops a shoulder. "You won't tell them, will you?"

"Of course not." She whispers back. I feel the overwhelming urge to hug her, but I stand up and hide the pills.

"Did you need something?" I asked her. She shakes her head. "I just don't sleep well outside of my house."

We mumble our way through a small conversation, and I end up cutting up some strawberries and bananas and we take our snack to the TV room and eat in silence, Netflix on quietly.

I'm motivated by reviews (hint hint ;) ) so let me know what you think!