Thirteen Summers

forty-eight

THIRTEEN SUMMERS

The morning felt heavier than usual as Josie walked through the school gates, her backpack tugging at her shoulders.

Everything around her buzzed with noise, chattering students, slamming lockers, squeaking sneakers but it all washed over her like static.

The first class went by in a whirlwind.

By the time she reached her second class, Kiara was already at her desk, flipping through her phone impatiently. The moment she spotted Josie, her eyebrows shot up.

"Finally!" Kiara said, leaning forward. "Where have you been for like two days?"

Josie froze, her fingers tightening around the strap of her backpack.

She couldn't say assessment.
She couldn't say psychiatrist.
She couldn't say autism.

She swallowed.

"I was... sick." She said quietly.

Kiara blinked. The confusion was all over her facebbut after a moment, she shrugged.

"Huh. Weird." She paused, then added, "You didn't answer any of my texts."

The guilt hit like a stone in Josie's stomach.

"Sorry." She mumbled, voice tiny. She didn't offer a reason. She didn't have one she could say out loud.

Kiara studied her for a second, then, surprisingly, backed off.

"Whatever. Just don't do that again. Anyway, this class? Literally dumb." She gestured dramatically at the whiteboard. "Look at this. Look. Like any of this is useful?"

Josie nodded softly. "...Yeah. I guess."

Kiara didn't notice how faint her voice was, that the girl wasn't really there at all.

Before Josie could breathe properly, class started.

Papers rustled, pens clicked, chairs scraped but none of it helped. The words on the board swam.

The teacher's explanation sounded like someone talking underwater. And the worksheet?

Impossible. Completely impossible.

Josie stared at the blank page, heart hammering. She didn't know where to start. Caleb had collected her schoolwork for her while she was at home but she hadn't had the chance to go through all of it.

I'm behind. I'm already behind.

She rubbed the side of her thumb until the skin turned pink.

As the teacher continued the lesson, Josie's chest tightened. Her breathing grew shallow. Her hands trembled under the desk. She couldn't ask for help. Asking meant eyes on her.

Attention.

Questions.

And she couldn't... she just couldn't.

Halfway through the lesson, the teacher paused mid-sentence.

"And as a reminder-parent-teacher conferences are next week! Make sure you know your appointment slot."

Josie's head snapped up.

Her stomach dropped.

Conferences.

Next week.

She hadn't known.

She thought back to all her subjects, math she didn't understand, English she hadn't finished work for, science she barely kept up with.