I didn't go to school the next day. Last year, missing a day of school was the equivalent of dropping out. But now I could miss a month and could catch up in a matter of days as if nothing happened. Not that I would make a habit of that.

Recently, though, I'd find myself waking up in a cold sweat, shaking and crying, some time in the middle of the night, and have absolutely no energy to move when my alarm went off hours later.

Occasionally Jane would come in with a glass of water or just to hold my hand while my heart raced. I must call out in my sleep and wake her up some nights.

Today, though, she just left for work. I think she understood I needed to pretend I was fine sometimes. Her acknowledgment of how broken I was didn't help much with that facade.

Around ten o'clock, I finally rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. It still smelled like Jane's shampoo from her shower this morning. I cleared my mind of how like my mother's it was and instead threw up in the toilet.

Why do people throw up in toilets anyway? It's so gross. Someone's ass was just inches away from your face!

Just thinking about how strange and disgusting that was was enough to make me want to puke more, but I hadn't really eaten much in the past few days, so it was mostly dry heaving.

After I brushed my teeth twice to try to get rid of the taste and took a shower hot enough to leave my skin bright red, I shuffled into my room, ready to attempt at least an hour of unconsciousness, when I noticed my phone was blinking from a notification.

As I checked Elijah's many texts asking if I was okay and if he was still picking me up later I noticed that no one responded to my recording. Was that a bad thing? Or did everyone fall asleep at six o'clock in the afternoon like me?

I finally worked up the nerve to text Elijah back, ignoring his questions and sharing this observation, along with the conclusion I must have sucked. I hadn't performed since... a long time and my voice was unpracticed.

I knew he was in the middle of English class, where Mrs. Roberts scanned for cell phones like a hawk, but he managed to reassure me with a simple, r u srs?!!?!?!?