I feel like I've been gone forever. So many things are happening from school to my boyfriend to Classnight to drama club to all my college acceptances/financial aid packages... it's a lot to handle and I just want to go back to when I was a sophomore and didn't have to act so much like an adult. I'm also losing inspiration on almost everything I'm writing kdslfjdkfdfkjhd I suck hardcore. But this story is all pre-written and I should be churning out edited versions of these chapters soon. And another one of my stories should be updated too. Eventually.

Thank you for the reviews, guys. Do it again?

From: Massie
Can I ask you something?

From: Chris
Will it take long? I'm kinda busy

From: Massie
Never mind

::

From: Chris
Sorry, I was with Kristen, what'd you want to ask me?

From: Massie
Nothing

From: Chris
Are you sure

From: Massie
Yeah, don't sweat it

::

Chris absolutely hates it when he has to stay after school for basketball practice. The more time he has to spend with Josh, the more he wants to kill himself. Ever since Kristen allowed the intimacy she was keeping from him for years, Josh has been all up in his face, questioning him about it. Constantly. He honestly wasn't- and will never be- in the mood to tell him all the details, but that's obviously what he wants.

He can't hide from him anywhere.

Coach is giving them shit for 'sucking' or something even though Chris knows he thinks they're in better shape than they were last year—which is saying a lot considering they had Cam's older brother, Harris, on the team. That kid was a tank. No lie.

"Do you think you'll score again the night of the Gala?" Josh whispers on his way past him to fetch himself a drink.

Chris rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to flip him off.

The Winter Gala is some stupid dance the school had been doing for years. The students must dress in "winter colors," whatever those are, and there are titles like Winter Princess that every popular girl yeans for. It's all really idiotic, but Kristen loves it and Chris goes every year. Everyone does. It's something to do. And someone spikes the punch anyways.

"Doubtful," he responds because Josh would get offended if he didn't.

Josh gives him that forced sad look of his. Chris could care less if he is upset for him. He doesn't think Kristen will ever let their relationship go that far again. It's surprising that she even let it happen the first time. But a second? He can only wish.

Coach blows his whistle and they all huddle together in the middle of the court. "We have a big game tomorrow, boys," he begins. "Against Greyson. And you know what happened last year…" His face contorts into one of disappointment. If Harris hadn't sprained his ankle, they totally would have had that game in the bag. They just weren't prepared.

"They creamed us," Landon Crane says bluntly. Coach glowers at him.

"Yes." He gives a curt nod. "In Landon's words, they creamed us. Emphasis on the creamed. Remember that, boys." He pauses. "Knowing Greyson like I do—I have been coaching here for twenty years—they're probably assuming we still suck. That's not the case. I'd say we're a leg up. Even better than last year. Don't let that inflate your ego."

The only person that would let that get to their head is Josh and it doesn't even look like he's taking those words to heart. He was just as pissed as everyone else was when Greyson came back after halftime and dominated the court.

Coach notices this and grins triumphantly. "Alright. Take a break now. You deserve it."

Chris' main objective is to get himself something to eat because he's starving. Derrick and Cam don't want to come with him, opting to chug as much water and Gatorade as they can. This doesn't deter him, however, and he sets out on his search for some sort of cookie.

The hallway's silent as he moves through it. Why would anyone be in school anyway? It's five o'clock at night. In February. It's so dark it looks like it could be midnight. Sure feels like it, at least.

When he gets to the cafeteria, he notices someone extremely familiar waiting impatiently in front of the water bottle dispenser.

"Massie?" he calls.

The brunette turns stiffly but doesn't greet him at all. He assumes she's just tired. Or thinking. She's been acting really weirdly lately but he doesn't push her. She doesn't like that.

"What are you still doing here?"

"Art club with Skye," she answers. Her words are tight and clipped. "She asked me to stay. I did."

Chris presses the button for D-7, Sunchips. He changed his mind about the cookies. "What did you do for two hours then?"

"My homework."

"Oh." Chris opens his bag. "Chip?"

"No thank you."

He frowns. "Are you okay? Do you still need to ask me whatever you wanted to ask me? I'm sorry I couldn't talk, I was with Kristen…"

"I told you not to worry about it," she snaps. "I'm fine."

"But now I'm worried about it…"

"Too late." She turns on her heel to leave, but he reaches forward quickly and grabs her hand, pulling her back. She tries to get him to relinquish his grip. It doesn't work; he's stronger than her. "Chris. Let go of me."

"No." To prove his point, he tightens his hold. "I want to know what's wrong with you."

"What's wrong with me?" echoes Massie, jerking her hand. "Thanks for insinuating that I have a problem!"

"Th-that's not what I meant," he stammers. "I want to know why you're acting like this."

Massie snorts. "So now you have the time for me? You're too kind."

Chris groans loudly, letting go of her hand. "This is why I'm worried, Massie! You're acting so weird!" He catches her eye, but she looks away almost as soon as they meet. "And what do you mean I don't have time for you? I always have time for you."

"That's such a lie."

"How am I lying? I meant what I said."

"A lot of people have told me that, Chris. So many of them say we'd love to help, please let us! And I say okay and they do the exact same thing as you." Massie shakes her head. "It's just a bunch of words they use to make themselves feel better. They don't intend on doing anything."

Chris doesn't get it. He wants to do something. He meant it. He wants to help her eat more and purge less, even if it means he has to eat with her… doesn't she get that? He's more than willing. "These aren't just words to me."

"What have you done to prove that?" she challenges.

And the thing is, he can't answer that.

"See?" she replies. "You're just like everyone else."

"Like hell I am," Chris retorts. "You don't know the first thing about me. How can you even say that?"

Massie crosses her arms over her chest. "I can say that because I've dealt with it. Eventually, you'll just stop acknowledging me altogether. Kristen doesn't even like me enough to let you be friends with me."

"This has nothing to do with Kristen."

"Oh, but it does."

"What are you talking about?" he asks in exasperation. It's like she's taking him around in circles. There has to be some way he can tell her that he actually fucking means it. Because he does. He actually fucking does.

She runs her hand through her hair and breathes slowly out of her nose. "Forget it. Just forget it."

Again, she turns around and he lets her walk away until he finally gets himself together again. "I don't know how to make you believe me!"

"I probably won't." She doesn't turn around. "Stop trying. It's useless at this point."

"I'm not—I'm not going to give up on this, Massie." He doesn't understand why he feels so desperate but he knows he can't just let her walk away from him like this. If she makes it through those doors right there, it's the end of everything. She can't go.

She remains rooted to the spot. "So what then?" she asks. Her voice cuts like a knife. "Are you going to say that you're helping me but ignore me entirely?"

"What—I'm not…"

"You are," she accuses. "Ever since Kristen opened her legs for you, that's all you've been doing. It's been Kristen this, Kristen that and I actually thought you were helping me. I trusted you. I don't know why I did, though, because I barely know you. I should have figured."

"You can trust me!"

He's shaken up now, fighting to keep himself from lashing out at her. She doesn't know the first thing him. He's… he's not like other people. He's so angry but at the same time he's really disappointed in himself. How could he let it get to this point? He admits she's right and that he hardly talks to her, but he's got other things to do…

No.

He can't just let his relationship with his girlfriend interfere with the fact that he did offer to help Massie. So Kristen had sex with him. Okay. Awesome. Massie's condition is a little bit more serious than that.

"Debatable."

"Come on," he begs, grabbing her hand again. She refuses to look at him. Ugh. "I'm helping you. I really am."

Massie lets out a cold, sarcastic laugh that sends shivers up his spine. "If you were, then maybe you'd be able to tell that I've been getting worse rather than improving."

"What…?"

"I've eaten in front of you, Chris. Right in front of you. You've noticed the fact that there's something wrong with me, but you never really pay attention." She pauses, almost looking like she's trying to figure out if she should really be telling him all of this. Yes, he wants to tell her. Yes, she should. "I… I'll eat in front of you and then I'll leave five minutes later to use the bathroom. Do you not notice that?"

Chris furrows his eyebrows. "I do." It's true. He has. He's not lying about that. "But what does that…" And then it hits him. She's not going to the bathroom, she's... oh. Now he feels like shit. "Wait, so you're telling me that whenever you say you're going to the bathroom, you're…"

She shrugs. "Shit happens."

"No. Massie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… after I promised I would help. No, after I begged you to let me help." He sighs, dragging a hand across his face. "I—it's all my fault."

"I'm not going to agree with that because you're not the one shoving your fingers down my throat."

He doesn't understand how she can talk about this so nonchalantly, like it's not a deadly eating disorder that could potentially damage her life if not fixed early enough. But she does anyway and it makes him uncomfortable.

"But…"

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine. I don't need your help."

"No!" he all but shouts. "I said I was going to help you get through this and I meant it. I'm not one to back out on things like this."

Massie shakes her head, her hair falling on her shoulders. "You have Kristen to worry about, Chris. Not me. Don't let me ruin your relationship because I can't stop myself."

He takes her hands in his, intertwining their fingers, and forces her to look at him. When her eyes meet his, he feels his heart jump slightly in his chest. Licking his lips awkwardly, he finally says, "Listen, Kristen doesn't matter right now. You won't be ruining anything. She'll understand. I'm going to help you. Do you hear me?"

She just smiles a little sadly at him. "Has anyone ever told you how oblivious you are?" She walks away shortly after that, leaving him extremely confused—but the one thought that stands out the most is that he really wishes he could hold her hand again.

::

"Dude, what took you so long? Weren't you just getting a cookie or some shit?"

Derrick's sitting on the ground, back up against the bleachers, stretching his legs out before Coach calls them back to practice one last time. Cam is still drinking his water. Chris shrugs, aware that he left his snack in the middle of the cafeteria, but he could care less about eating right now.

What had Massie meant when she said he was oblivious? He isn't… is he? What does that even really mean? He's never been called that before. Well, maybe the time for someone to call him that has never come up until now. But still—he doesn't understand why she would even think to use that to describe him.

All he wants to do is help. Kristen will get over it. He's definitely not the center of her world therefore she doesn't have to be main focus of his. She's got all those clubs and shit. He has his unstable family and therapy… and now helping Massie beat her bulimia. Which he'll do. He's not going to let her do that on her own.

"Hello? Earth to Chris!"

He jumps. "Huh? Oh. Sorry. I just saw Massie before, that's why I took a while. We were… talking."

Cam finally puts his bottle down and swallows. "Massie?"

"Yeah, she was here because Skye is. Art club or something like that." Chris could barely remember.

"Skye's here?" Derrick perks up considerably.

Chris nods. "Doing art. Don't bother her. You know how she gets."

They made the mistake of talking to her while she was finishing an art project last week. Cam had suggested they get something at The Cup after school. So they all piled in at one table and Skye took out her sketchbook. No one warned them that she would treat them like the dirt on the bottom of her shoes while she was drawing. They learned quickly, however, and figured that it was no good to ever try to be civil to her during that time.

"Right." Derrick sighs shakily. "That was a terrible experience."

"You're telling me," his best friend agrees. "I thought she was going to rip my neck off."

"Speaking of those two," Cam starts off slowly, "I think I'm gonna ask Alicia to go to the Gala with me."

"Seriously?" Derrick questions, reaching over to touch his toes. "That's cool. Go for it."

Cam chews on his lower lip. "You think?"

"Yeah." Chris sends him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure she'll say yes."

"Okay. Cool." Cam rubs the back of his neck and turns away, leaving Chris to his own thoughts again.

There is no way he's even the closest thing to oblivious. He knows a lot about things and he's very observant. Sometimes.

When Coach eventually calls them back to work on their plays, Chris' game is completely off.

::

That night, Chris has a nightmare.

He's back at his old house and he's anticipating it to be like every other dream he has. But as he's walking through the house, he sees something different. Not only is it his sister stuck inside, it's Massie too.

She's a wreck: all skin and bones. She looks like she's going to drop dead any second and it worries him. No. It scares him.

She and Sammi are both in the same hallway, just the way it was when it happened. The foundation's loose and full of flames; it's shaking as the rest of the fire takes over the house. It's going to fall, he knows it, and both girls are beneath it.

He knows deep down that he can only save one of them, but he doesn't know which one. Sammi's his sister and Massie's his… Massie's his something. He doesn't know but he knows he can't just leave her either.

Sammi's small hand wraps around his larger one and he leans over roughly to grab Massie's in order to pull her out of the way. Once he gets ahold of her, however, his sister slips out of his grasp.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest rapidly. He can see the scene before him so quickly—the way the boards will fall on her, suffocating, burning, killing her. They should fall now… shouldn't they?

But they don't. They stay up for a second longer. Long enough for Sammi to look up at him with those big green eyes of hers and say: "It's okay, Chris." Her voice is just as childish and tiny as it always is, but it sounds a little more mature, a little more grown up. "You can save her. I'll… I'll be okay."

He wakes up screaming.