October 2018

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    The door of my bright red Saturn VUE slammed shut as I threw the strap of my heavy flag bag over my shoulder and made my way across the parking lot towards the band room doors.

    "Lizzie!" someone called as I stepped inside, my cheeks rosy from the cool October air. My eyes swept across the chaotic jumble of xylophones, base drums, and timpanis before landing on my partner. I made my way towards them, with a wide smile.

    "I need to talk to you," they said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out into the hall before I'd even had the chance to greet them.

    As I followed them through the much less crowded hallway, I wondered what exactly was so important. It'd barely been two months since that warm summer night when I'd put aside my nervousness and asked them out. We weren't at the point of serious conversations yet, were we?

    Coming to a stop at a dimly lit dead end, I leaned against the cold metal door that led outside. The faint sound of Baby Shark came from a clarinet somewhere on the other side, but I ignored it.

    "What's wrong?"

    My partner stared nervously at the floor for a moment before finally taking a deep breath. "Everything I've been telling you about my mom," they began. "It was a lie."

    "You- you mean she doesn't hit you? She doesn't call you names, or get drunk all the time, or throw things? She doesn't do any of that stuff?" I asked. "Why would you lie about that?"

    "I don't know. S lies all the time."

    I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. How many times had I stayed up late worrying about their safety? How many times had they convinced me not to report their mom to CPS? It had all just been a lie.

    "I'm sorry," they whispered, tears forming in their eyes. "You're probably mad at me."

    "Well yes, but oh my god," I pulled them into my arms and held them tightly. "I'm just so glad you're safe."

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