don't speak.

chapter one

They say hindsight is 20/20, meaning that an event should have been obvious the entire time. But of course we never see it coming, we're too busy living in the heat of the moment. That's the part that kills me, because hindsight is 20/20. And when you realize this you're trapped in an endless cycle of asking why didn't I know? and why didn't anyone stop it?

But I couldn't have known. And no one could've stopped it.

The day your life starts to change starts just like any other, there's no grand revelation, no heavy feeling in your chest, only the sound of your alarm and the dread sinking into your stomach because of that AP Environmental Biology exam you have later. I am by no means a traditional intellect; however, for some reason the things Ms. Parks discusses in that class just stick with me. I'm constantly getting shown up by team Smarkle, but at least I'm in the ring.

I stayed out by the window of my best friend's bedroom. Arguably my favorite part of the day. Riley is always so bubbly, she finds a positive spin on everything – and I've worked hard to keep her life that way. All this in mind, first thing in the morning Riley is in fact not a bubbly person. And I find this to be quite amusing.

"GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!" I cupped my hands and yelled through the glass, leaving a thin layer of fog on the glass. It was autumn in New York, therefore things were beginning to get misty. There was dew that sometimes crystalized on every blade of grass and air cold enough in the mornings it'd feel like you were breathing in glass.

Riley sits up bolt straight in her bed, her hair was in front of her face and she looked like she was just pulled out of a horror film. I laughed because she was wearing her paisley print nightgown and it only helped add to the horror character effect.

Riley swung her legs over the side of her bed and quickly braided her hair into two sloppy braids. In an instant she goes from possessed child to Pippy Longstocking. I hear her clamber over to me in her same clumsy matter that she still has when she's got a full night's rest, and I smiled as she pulled open the window.

"Howdy sunshine." I said flipping up one of her braids, she gave me a half-hearted huff of a laugh and then dragged me out into the kitchen where Topanga looked like she'd camped out all week. She was surrounded by legal work, coffee mugs and energy drinks. If it weren't for the heavy bags under her eyes and the worry lines etched into her skin, I'd probably mistake her for a college student preparing for an exam.

"Oh gosh," She said softly, ruffling through some pages, "Girls I'm so sorry I lost track of time I didn't make breakfast."

"That's okay mom, we've got cereal." Riley spoke sweetly into Topanga's ear as she kissed her on the cheek. After Riley turned away, Topanga hunched back over her work. I grabbed the cereal and the milk while Riley retrieved the bowls. I loved eating with Riley, and she with me. We ate practically every meal together – and on the off occasion when I ate alone I found myself far more indecisive about what to eat.

"You ready for dad's history nonsense today?" Riley slobbered in-between heaping spoonful's. I nodded along, far too busy in my own mind to actually contribute into the conversation. I was searching for study questions to ask myself for this exam which, at the time, seemed like the worst thing that could happen to a person.

"Bye ma." Riley sang as she pranced out the door, me trudging not far behind.

We walked the same route every day and I very quickly grew tired of it. At first I'd thought I'd always appreciate the scenic views that came with our wandering to Abigail Adams in the morning. I use to love the way the sun spilled out over the top of the buildings and tinted the sky different colors, or how at seven o'clock everything seemed to turn to gold. I painted about it, I sang about it, I even wrote about it. The morning was my muse and I got to greet her every day – but three years later and I've grown tired of it. The sunrise blurs my vision as I try to see past the blinding sun, the colors bore me and at seven o'clock traffic hits and crossing the streets becomes more strenuous. I paint about undiscovered colors now, obscene locations, and him, I sing about rain and I don't write. I don't have anything to say. I guess it's because I'm older, just like the day life gets dimmer as you go through it. At least that's what my mom used to say, before she met Shawn. And that's why I used to say I wanted to die young – but that was before Riley.

"We're here!" Riley squealed as she pulled me up the steps to the school. We're juniors but Riley still acts like a freshman, all doe eyes and ready to explore. I'd do anything to protect her from the real world, the one you see on the news, the one that ails outside of these brick walls.

We walked into the classroom and he was there. His body filling out that stupid blue shirt of his – the one I think he'll be buried in. Lucas and Riley broke up at the start of sophomore year, after she didn't leave for London. It was a gradual thing; they hadn't spoken individually all summer and they realized that while they love each other the romantic drive just wasn't there. Girl code says I can't date him, but there isn't anything in there that says I can't... look at him, at least now that they're not together.

"Hey Hart." His voice has gotten deeper since freshman year, and he was trying to grow a beard. Usually I don't like facial hair on high school students – but I swear he could wear an orange turtleneck and still make it work.

"Hey." I replied, keeping my voice cool. I turned around and propped my elbow on Riley's desk and looked back at him, he was biting his lower lip.

"So... there's this party," He started, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Parties were never good to me, they smelt like body odor, and there is always so much alcohol sloshing over the lip of everyone's cups that your nice party shoes get wrecked – which is fine for most of the kids there, after all a majority of the Abigail Adams population lived by the moto "if you misplace it buy a new one". No matter how much I detested I was always a pushover when it came to my friends. "It's at Anna Bluebern's house." Lucas continued, I stifled a laugh. Of course it was at Amanda's. "Mandy" rose from the ashes of social destruction when she threw her first party last year, mainly because she's the only person in the entire school who can supply decent booze. Her dad owns a liquor store so she pumps out cake vodka's and daiquiris while every other kid can only scrummage up a cheap keg with flat beer in it – at best. This is the only reason she's popular – well, that and the fact that she puts out.

I turned to Riley who was wearing her dorky grin and excitedly tapping her feet, she loved parties. Riley steers away from liquor and drugs but she loves dancing, that and making sure everyone always gets home safe. She was known as the Party Mama Bear – and at the end of the night we were always grateful for it.

"No." I said sternly to her, I'd thought there was no way any of them could get me to go to this party – not after last time when some idiot tripped and spilled red wine over my only decent white dress. In retrospect, I should've known better than to wear a white dress to a high school rager – but it was tragic nonetheless.

"C'mon Maya just live a little." Zay pleaded, he knew that if I didn't go Riley wouldn't go – and a party isn't a party without Mama Bear keeping everyone hydrated and sober-cabbing half of the school. "I promise me Lucas will protect you and your clothes the entire time." He slapped Lucas' back and they both smiled at me. I rolled my eyes,

"Fine." I caved, the thought of having Lucas and Zay be my lap dogs the entire night was humorous to me at the time. I wish it wasn't. I wish I'd just stayed home that night. And God I wish I never set down my drink.