A week passes.

Seven days with no sign of Ruby’s cat.

I wear my worry on my face, acne spreading out all over. When I eat, my stomach rebels against me, nothing tastes good anymore.

Every time I go home, I wait on the porch for Butters to come back. The first few days my face was bright red, burned from sitting outside for too long without sunscreen. The sunburn blended into the acne as my skin started peeling. I look horrible, but I don’t care.

I never realized how exhausting it could be to worry. I’m so tired, but every time I shut my eyes I can’t sleep. I hear Butters. I see him.

But I’m alone.

I’m… cracked.

I don’t think people talk about this enough. How being stressed can be physically exhausting, how it can make you sick. I never knew the lengths my body could go, but I think I’m learning them now.

“Yo, Vi, you don’t have to talk about it or anything, but you’ve been scrambling your burger for about five minutes now, so uh, you okay?” V asks me at lunch.

It’s only V, Langston, and Gage sitting around the table today. G is at home sick and Wade is out on some trip.

And Brie, I haven’t seen her at school, and she won’t answer my texts. I almost texted Samson and Kenneth but stopped myself. I can see them at their table, almost hidden in the crowd.

I look down to see my lunch is completely mangled and my stomach flips. I push the tray away from me.

“It’s fine.”

It isn’t, but I don’t want to get into the details. I don’t want to talk about it. And I definitely don’t want to hear the same reassurances that Mom keeps giving.

This is her fault. She should never have let him out. But I don’t want to let her know I think that, because I know she’s been looking for him, too. I’ve seen her getting back late, a flashlight in hand and a sigh etched on her features. I know she feels as tired as I do. But that doesn’t change the anger inside, that doesn’t change the blame I want to lay at her feet.

“Girl, if that burger is fine, then I’m worried about what not fine is,” Langston says.

V throws a blueberry at him. It lands with a smack in his mashed potatoes. Throwing food seems to be a norm for her. No one ever bats an eye when she does.

“Hush, if she says she’s fine, then she’s fine unless she says otherwise. You know that.”

I’ve noticed that the group has a don’t-ask policy when it comes to things. You want to talk about it, and they’ll all listen, but if you don’t, then they don’t bombard you to.

It’s sort of, nice, knowing that I have the option there for if I’m ready, if I’m ever ready to talk, but I don’t have to take it. And V told me before, they don’t talk about each other’s issues, whoever you talk to keeps it to themselves.

It’s different than how some of Ruby’s group was—a lot of them wanted to gossip about anything and everything. Secrets were their favorite currency. Ruby always told me which ones I could trust, and which ones I couldn’t. This group, I’ve discovered, everyone will keep a secret, even the twins from one other. V told me that it’s not their story to share, that’s why they keep other’s stories to themselves.

“Yeah, yeah, my bad. Do you… want some chips? A drink?” Langston starts pulling out chips, drinks, a sandwich, and some chocolate snack cakes, pushing all of them towards me.

Langston always has extra food in his bag. Every now and then he’ll go to tables where someone only has a drink or not even that and offer it to them.

And every now and then, someone will come to him and whisper something to him and he’ll hand them a packed lunch. No one ever mentions it and he doesn’t talk about it, so I assume he doesn’t want to brag, but from what I can tell, he feeds at least five different students regularly and a few others randomly.

If someone forgets their lunch or can’t afford it, he gives them food with no questions asked. One day, I might find out his story. Why he feeds the other students.

I reluctantly take the food he passes me. I know it’ll taste better than the destroyed burger I have. But the food tastes of cardboard. I know it’s me and not the food. I know that. Everything tastes like cardboard these days. I don’t even know how I know how cardboard tastes, but that’s what it is. And knowing it’s all me, doesn’t change it.

“I won’t tell you it’ll be okay or anything like that, but whatever it is, you’ll survive this,” V reminds me.

Survivors. That word from before echoes in my head again. I’ll survive this, but… how?

“And now who’s the one acting like she’s not fine?” Langston teases, throwing a candy bar at V. She catches it and sticks her tongue out at him. She peels open the wrapping and breaks it into pieces, passing them all around the table. I stare at mine, pinching the nougat filling out of the chocolate.

As usual, Gage is quiet, but he turns to look at me with one of those gazes that see right into my head.

Whatever he sees, I can tell he doesn’t like it because he pushes up and starts clearing the garbage from the table. He pats me on the head as he walks away and I feel like, coming from him, that’s the equivalent of a hug.