Page 55 of Left on Read

“Luke,” I say, trying to get him to meet my eyes. “Becivil,remember?”

“Absolutely not,” he grunts.

“Are y’all done yet?” Piper sticks her head in the doorway. I know she feels excluded from all this, and it’s Bryce’s fault. Fucking Bryce. Luke turns toward her, and I watch as his face just … melts. That righteous anger fades away, even though it was all for her in the first place. He holds out his arms, and she steps into them like there’s no place she’d rather be.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning her head on Luke’s chest and looking around at each of us.

“We have a problem,” I tell her. “But we’re going to fix it. Actually”—I hear my own voice brighten—”you might be able to help.”

OfficialEndeavourHigh:Campus police are once again offering a reward for the safe return of the traffic cones.

You know those PowerPoint parties where people make presentations about niche topics, and everyone gets the chance to share their weird interests? I love that.

So, yes, I did make a presentation for my friends. The projector in Esha’s basement is supposed to be for movies, but my PowerPoint looks great in the high resolution.

“So, as you may know, I am kind of a neurotic mess.” That’s how I begin, and I watch as Esha tilts her head and Hayes rolls his eyes. Tucked into their little corner of the couch, Luke and Piper nod along.

“Novella,” Hayes starts to say.

“No.” I flip to the next slide, enjoying this entirely too much. “I will not be taking questions at this time.”

Hayes laughs under his breath. This is completely ridiculous, but damn if it doesn’t mean the world to me. When Piper walked into that room after our Beta Club meeting, I had this spark of anidea. It wouldn’t let me go, and I spent the entire weekend on this. It’s my campaign and a way to improve the school, and hopefully a way to run Bryce into the ground, all in one.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.” I smile at Hayes, and he winks back at me. Unfair. “I am a neurotic mess. And our school is full of neurotic messes. We’re all perfectionist high-achievers who—”

“Hey!” Luke shouts in offense. He’s sitting in the corner of the sectional with Piper leaning against him, his arm behind her head on the back of the couch. “I’m not a perfectionist! I’m an adequatist.”

“Fine, everyone except you, I guess,” I say, rolling my eyes. “My point is: the school attracts us because it’s rigorous and advanced, but then it kind of destroys us. We work constantly and there is virtually no institutional assistance with the toll that takes.”

They all look at each other in confusion.

“Last week, I was … not okay. I wasn’t moving or eating or thinking straight. I was barely human. And I get like that all the time. Anytime we have a break from school, I just mentally and physically collapse.”

They start to nod. Hayes looks uncharacteristically grim, and I know he’s recalling bearing witness to my last complete breakdown.

“I thought I was the only one,” I admit. I’m not reading off my slides anymore. “But I really sat with it, and I don’t believe thatanymore. I think we all have moments where this school is just too much. And those moments really hurt us.”

“Yeah,” Hayes nods again. “You shouldn’t need designated places to cry.”

I laugh, a watery giggle. I don’t know when the urge to cry came up, but I’m trying to suppress it as best I can. This is my PowerPoint party, dammit. I’m going to get through it.

“Or we have other kinds of breakdowns,” I continue. “Or we use some outlet for our stress that’s probably not so healthy.”

They each nod. I can almost feel Hayes thinking about all the Red Bull he drinks.

“There’s all this stress on us, way more than in any normal high school situation. We have so much more pressure and yet we have very little support.”

I see Hayes’s eyes light up in understanding. He sees where I’m going with this. As much as I love being with him, more than I ever thought possible, as much as I love his face and his hands and his sense of humor and his kindness—what I love themostis the way his mind connects to mine.

“So you’re talking about, like, a mental health initiative. For what, the whole school?” he asks.

“Exactly.” I nod. “I don’t have the details all worked out yet, but …” My eyes meet Piper’s. “You went through something horrible, and no one helped you. Your friends sucked, and your boyfriend sucked, and you lost out on opportunities because no onehad your back. There should be some kind of help for managing the incredible stress that comes with such a fast-paced environment, where the expectations are sky-high and there’s no time to behuman.“

Piper stands up, and for a split second, I think she’s furious with me. I shouldn’t have brought it up, and I shouldn’t have made it about her, and I—

She approaches me, and she hugs me. I don’t think we’ve ever hugged before. I wasn’t prepared, but I oddly don’t mind. She squeezes my ribs way too tight, and I think she might be crying.

“Thank you,” she mumbles. “I really needed something like … like that.” Now she’s unabashedly crying. Piper sits back down, and then we’re all just kind of looking at one another.