She sat next to me. 

"Are you okay?"

I bite my bottom lip. No, I want to say. 

"Not- not really."

Emily looks at our feet; she's wearing sandles, and I'm wearing black Velcro sneakers. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

I swear I almost cried again.

"Patte's dead. Everyone hates me, inclu-"

"Not everyone hates you," she interrupts. "I don't hate you."

I looked her in the eyes. Deep hazel. 

"I don't hate you, either."

And we kiss.