Last February

0.7 | a n g s t

Avery had never failed a class before.

She was known for it, actually, being the complete opposite of Jane. People categorized her as smart; smart and quiet—and Jane's best friend. That's it. Those were the only three things that people had ever associated her with, nothing more.

But the problem with being classified as smart is that people had expectations—people who Avery hadn't even known existed had expectations for her. The stress to do well in school had been looming over her since she had received her first ever report card so many years ago, and the pressure had only increased as time went on.

Avery had never failed a class before. Avery was going to go to university; she'd get a full ride scholarship. She was going to go to space—she was going to solve all of the world's problems. People would see her on TV. People would read about her in the newspapers. Avery's future was bright, and everyone aspired to have a brain like Avery's.

By the time November came around, Avery was failing all of her class.

Everything had been happening so fast. There had been so many deadlines to meet, so many parties that Jane had dragged her to, and so many six-plus hour shifts that Avery had worked every single day after school, just so she could make ends meet. Four hours of sleep was definitely not enough sleep to be a functioning human being, but Avery had soon realized that not all of her teachers were as lenient as they claimed to be when it came to due dates.

"You need to manage your time better," they'd say. "You won't get extensions in university."

Avery had never been so sleep deprived in her life, and she had been so deprived, in fact, that she had began hallucinating—she heard voices. Not even voices. She'd hear murmurs, just loud enough to be noticeable, taunting, and no matter how many times Avery had silently scoured her house in the early hours of the morning with just her bare fists and 911 on speed dial, she'd never find anyone.

It had all been in her head—she had gone insane.

Sometimes, Avery wished that her mom would come home—that her mom would at least phone to check in on her. Sure, her dad called every other day. He asked how she was doing, if she needed anything, if she just wanted to talk—and Avery appreciated it, she really did. But Avery wanted to talk to her mom. There are certain things that dads won't ever understand; things that girls just can't talk to their dads about, and Avery needed to talk to her mom.

She had so many questions about the world, about how things work, about life in general—questions that the internet couldn't answer. Questions that made Avery feel anxious. And they would all go unanswered because her mom had decided to abandon her almost-adult daughter when Avery needed her the most.

Occasionally, Avery would think about talking to Jane's mom. But then Jane's mom would tell Jane and Jane would want to talk about it and Jane wouldn't understand—Jane always missed the point. The school counselors had always made Avery uncomfortable and anyone else that Avery could ask would talk to others about Avery's strange questions, and it really seemed as though Avery truly had no one to talk to.

Avery did what she could—she really did. She tried to figure things out, get her life together, adapt to all of the stress. But when the rings below her sunken eyes had almost been black, when November had faded into December, when Connor started showing up around the neighbourhood and her grades had plunged into the low thirty percentages, she had thrown in the towel, given up completely. She couldn't keep up with everything. Avery had stopped going to school. She'd catch up next year, she figured—she'd transfer schools, no one would know that she was retaking grade twelve. As long as her father didn't find out, delaying her education by a couple of months wouldn't be of any harm. Right now, Avery needed money. As much as she could get. She opened her availability, told her manager that she needed to work every day, and Avery finally got a full night's sleep.

Everything was going to be okay; she just needed time to sort things out.

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Word Count: 752