The Girl in Seat 23 {l.r.h.}

eighteen.

Now, in 1963, I wasn't the best citizen in Atlanta. But I could honestly say I'd never snuck through a window. That is, until Luke was awkwardly hoisting me into his room with as little noise as possible so we didn't wake his mom up.

He held a small leather-bound journal in his hands. "Don't... Don't be harsh, okay? They're not finished, and they're very personal."

I smiled, nodding as he handed the songbook to me. My eyes scanned the songs. Mockingbird. I read the delicate titles. Bright Eyes, United, Vapor. "They're beautiful." He blushed. My eyes fell onto a page filled with what appeared to be a journal entry.

May 7, 1961

I am seventeen and I am drowning.

It takes everything within me to keep inhaling and exhaling because I know I am on a stage and everyone is watching. And my chest is heaving but my mouth is smiling and my feet keep moving.

I am seventeen and I am drowning.

They told the tall boy with massive dreams and dark anxiety to go onstage and he listened. This is bigger than he expected. Than I expected. This is what I want. Why can't my brain stop thinking for once in my life?

I am seventeen and I am waiting for someone, anyone, to come save me from my mind.

I am seventeen and I am drowning.

A hand quickly grabbed the book from me. Luke clutched it tightly to his chest, eyes wide and breaths choppy.

"You lied to me," I accused. "I knew you were deeper than leather and chicks!"

He grabbed my shoulders. "Forget what you read. You should leave."

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Grown men aren't supposed to be afraid of the dark," he whispered.

"Nineteen year olds aren't supposed to be grown men."

His lip trembled. "They'll think I'm crazy. My hands aren't supposed to shake when I leave the house. I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm not supposed to be afraid of people."

I looked down, carefully grabbing his hand. "What about me?"

"You terrify me," he whispered. "And God, I've never felt more alive."