Jamal and I are sitting in the office. My leg is bouncing uncontrollably and my face is on fire. I've never been in trouble before. I've never even been in detention. I don't know how things escalated so quickly or how I ended up here.

I keep looking over at Jamal and he looks very calm and casual. Like he doesn't care. He hasn't really said anything to me.

"How did this happen?" I mutter as I look around the office.

"You just experienced some version of racism," Jamal tells me. I look over at him and I hate how my heart skips a beat when our eyes lock.

"Are you serious?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Yeah. That's what that was. Now you know how it feels."

"They can't do this. The principal seriously can't suspend us for this," I tell Jamal.

"I'm definitely getting suspended but you might not," Jamal says. "And it's because he's a racist motherfucker. You're getting in trouble because you were defiant and stood up for me."

"He kept saying your name wrong," I tell Jamal absentmindedly as I look around again. "It's so stupid. Some white kids here have some really fucking weird names that he can say."

Amusement passes over Jamal's face. "Like what?"

I shrug as I think. "Like, Ansel. And Aaron."

"Why is Aaron weird?" Jamal asks. He still seems amused.

"I always read it as 'A-a-ron'," I tell him as I grin sheepishly. Jamal smiles and I feel a pleasant feeling in my stomach. It's like butterflies.

"I'll remember that," Jamal says. He looks around. "I'm guessing you've never been in here?"

"I guess not. But why would you think that? I mean, I'm not that—"

Jamal cuts me off by leaning over the chair in between us to touch my leg. My breath catches slightly and my heart starts racing. His hand is warm on my leg even though I have jeans on. And the only thing I'm thinking is that I wish I was wearing shorts because then his hand would be on my bare skin.

"You won't stop bouncing your leg. You're shaking my chair," Jamal tells me. His fingers tighten slightly before he pulls his hand away. I look from my leg to his eyes. "You seem nervous as fuck."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. I don't get in trouble," I say as I try to stop feeling so jumpy from Jamal's touch.

"It's interesting though. You look like you don't take shit," Jamal tells me. "When I walked in, I thought you were in there for getting into a fight."

I smile. "No one fights here. The girls at least. They just destroy each other online and spread rumors."

"Yeah. But you look like you would get into a physical fight," Jamal says.

"Thank you?"

"Yeah." Jamal looks around. "You think we'll be here for a while?"

"I have no idea," I tell him. "It was worth it, right? Beating up that guy?"

Jamal looks at me. "Yeah."

"Will you tell me what happened?" I ask. "I mean, if we're both getting suspended...I don't know."

Jamal looks at me and sighs. It's almost like he's softening. "Will you stop shaking my chair if I tell you?"

I nod. "Yeah. Of course."

It's almost like vulnerability flicks over Jamal's amber eyes. "He took my backpack." I don't say anything and he sighs. "He kept fucking taunting me and looking through it."

I frown. "Why would he do that?"

Jamal shrugs. "What do I look like to you?"

I blush. "I don't know. An actor."

"See, that's why I'm talking to you," Jamal tells me. "But to him? That dickhead? I looked like a fucking terrorist. He was looking through my backpack for a bomb."

My face twists in confusion as my stomach sinks. "That's awful. He really did that? Why the fuck would someone say that?" I ask. Jamal shrugs and I sigh. "I hope you beat the absolute fuck out of him."

Jamal grins slightly. "See, I told you that you would get into a fight." He pauses. "I only got in a few punches."

"Wait," I say as my frown deepens. "Why the fuck isn't that asshole in here?"

Jamal shrugs. "Because the world doesn't work like that, Sawyer."

My frown deepens. "But if he—"

"That doesn't matter," Jamal tells me. "It doesn't matter that he verbally insulted me. It doesn't matter that he punched me first, or that he had his friends join in. All that matters is that I fought back and that I'm not white."

Before I can say anything, the principal comes out of his office. "You two. My office. Now."

I look at Jamal before I stand up and grab my bag. He stands up and walks behind me. My stomach feels like it's dropped to the ground. "It's gonna be okay," Jamal whispers to me. His breath tickles my neck and I shiver.

We follow the principal and sit down in his office. It's so tense and no one is saying anything.

I look at Jamal before looking at the principal. "Did you suspended the other boy?" I ask.

The principal frowns. "Who and what are you talking about?"

"The boy—or boys, I should say—that attacked Jamal. You did discipline them, right?" I ask.

"I don't have time for this," the principal tells us. "I've called both of your guardians to let them know about your suspensions."

"You're suspending Sawyer?" Jamal asks. "For what?"

"You need to stop talking," the principal tells Jamal.

I feel so dumbfounded as I look between Jamal and the principal. It's like the principal is so prejudiced that he doesn't see Jamal as a person. It's like he hates Jamal even though Jamal has barely even been here.

The door slams open and I look behind me. A man walks in. "Why would you possibly be suspending my brother?" he asks.

The principal leans back in his chair. "Fighting. It's his second fight since he's been here."

"No," the man says. "It's not his second fight. It's the second time he's been attacked."

"That doesn't mean anything."

Jamal's brother mutters something but then looks at me. "And her? Why is she here?"

"She talked back to me," the principal says.

"Is that true?" Jamal's brother asks me.

"No. He kept saying Jamal's name wrong. I just corrected him. That's all I did," I explain.

"You're suspending her for that?" he asks. "This entire thing is ridiculous. I have friends in the Mayor's office. I'm going to call them and tell them how much negligence is in this school. You're going to see an investigation."

The principal's eyes narrow. "The girl gets detention. He gets two days' suspension."

Jamal's brother opens his mouth but Jamal says, "Fine."

"Good. Your suspension is effective until Tuesday," the principal tells Jamal. He looks at me. "Detention meets in the basement tomorrow after school."

I nod and stand up. I'm almost relieved that I didn't get a suspension, but something still feels wrong.

As we're walking out of the office, I see my mom walking down the hallway. She looks beyond mad. I stop walking suddenly and Jamal bumps into my back. "Fuck," I mutter.

"What?" Jamal asks.

"I'm sorry for this," I tell him quietly.

Mom storms into the office and her eyes narrow when she sees me. "Do you know what I had to leave to come here? Because you're getting suspended?" she starts.

"Mom, look—"

"Don't speak right now," she tells me. I feel my cheeks burn and my eyes start stinging.

"She's not suspended," Jamal's brother tells her. Mom looks at him and I feel like I want to die because she's not looking at him like he's a person.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"He's my brother," Jamal tells her. "Sawyer stood up—"

"You're the reason she's in trouble?" Mom asks. Jamal shrugs and she turns her gaze to me. She grabs my arm. "You're not allowed to see him again."

My frown twists as I look at Jamal. "What are you saying—"

"You're never allowed to see him again," Mom tells me again as she pulls me out of the office. I crane my neck back to look at Jamal and his brother through the window.

"Mom, you're not serious are you?" I ask her.

She looks at me and doesn't let go of my arm. "Don't ever talk to that boy again."

I'm going to ask her why, but she looks like she's going to yell at me if I say anything else.

My mind is racing rapidly as I'm dragged to the car. And as much as I'm trying to make sense of everything that's happened, I can't stop thinking of Jamal touching my leg briefly.

**********************

"Fuck," I murmur as I pull the cords of my heating pads. They're starting to not feel hot even though they're still on. I sigh as I turn them off and then back on. Maybe they'll get hot again.

I've been laying in my bed since I got home from school. I only slept for twenty minutes even though I'm so exhausted. It's like the worse I feel and the worse my fatigue gets, the less I'm able to sleep. Lately, I've been tossing and turning and then waking up inexplicably for a few hours during the night. So, I end up staring at the grey wall like I am right now. I'm curled up, almost hugging my knees with one heating pad shoved against my stomach and one against my back. I'm buried under a few blankets but I still feel cold and too hot at the same time.

I sigh as I shift over to my other side and stick a pillow between my knees. I can never get comfortable. And when I lay down at first, my back is so stiff and tense that it takes me a few seconds to relax into my bed. It's a fucking mattress and it's like my back doesn't trust it. It's like my muscles are so constantly tense that they forgot how to relax. Maybe that's why I can never get comfortable. I've been so tense for so long that everything forgot that it's not supposed to be like this.

But it's been one hundred and seventy days and I've only gotten worse. I can't sleep now and I can barely eat. And I'm aching and hurting constantly and I'm a ghost. The warm, healthy color is gone from my face, leaving a grey cast. And the bags under my eyes never go away and my dark blue eyes look empty. Everything looks wrong. And it's like I'm gone and a ghost is in my place.

I don't know if I can find who I used to be again. That girl shattered over and over and over again until she was fucking gone. Until she was dust. She shattered until she was so unrecognizable that she was gone. And now I can't stop searching for the pieces that broke when every doctor told me that my pain wasn't real.

I miss who I used to be. But more than anything I miss smiling. Laughing. I miss being a kid and running around without a care and feeling alive. I miss pain-free days and I miss being able to eat. I miss sleeping well. I miss feeling tired instead of feeling the deep, aching fatigue that makes every limb feel heavy. The fatigue that makes me stumble around until I fall into a bed but then it's so cruel because I can't even sleep.

I miss feeling alive.

"Sawyer! It's time for dinner!" Mom yells from downstairs. I sigh as I sit up. I don't want to leave my heating pads and I don't want to eat. And I don't want to sit at the table and be yelled at. Things will only get worse if I don't go downstairs.

I stand up and spots cloud my vision. I blink as I put my hand against the wall. I start walking out of my room and keep my hand on the hallway wall and I hold onto the railing as I walk down the stairs. I'm trying to remember what I ate today, and I think I had a piece of toast. I can't remember anything else and I don't feel hungry.

I curse silently when I see my sister sitting at the table. She looks smug. I sit down across from her. Mom sets a plate down in front of me and I wish I hadn't come downstairs at all. The sweet potato and peas look fine, but it's the steak that's making me nauseous. Mom knows that I don't eat red meat anymore because I always end up throwing up. It's like she's doing it to punish me.

Mom looks at me. "Did you tell your sister what happened today?"

"No," I say as I push around some of the peas.

"What happened?" Magnolia asks Mom.

"She got suspended," Mom tells her. "For talking back to the principal."

"I didn't get suspended," I say. "I just got detention tomorrow. And it wasn't my fault. The principal is—"

"So, how was your day Magnolia?" Mom cuts me off.

My sister smiles. "It was really good. Except, Tyler got beat up by some Muslim kid." Alarm bells go off in my head as the fork drops from my hand. Magnolia looks at me and rolls her eyes. "What?"

"What did you just say?" I ask her.

Magnolia shrugs. "Tyler got beat up. His nose almost got broken."

"And his friends?" I ask her. Confusion passes over Magnolia's face.

"How did you know that?" she asks.

I stand up and push my chair in. "So, you know what happened then?" I ask Magnolia. "You know that Tyler and his fucking friends attacked Jamal, who's not some Muslim kid. Tyler didn't get beat up. They went after Jamal and because they're weak, fucking bullies—"

Mom cuts me off, "Don't talk to your sister like that! Go up to your room. And you're grounded by the way."

"Fine," I mutter.

"God, what has gotten into you?" Mom mutters.

I stare at her and then Magnolia. "I'm sorry that I finally see exactly how fucking racist everything is, and I'm sorry that I'm not going to ignore it anymore."

Magnolia's face twists. "Wait, are you talking about me?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, I'm talking about you. Do you really think it's okay that your boyfriend and his friends ganged up on a new kid? Did they tell you why they attacked him? Did you really call him 'some Muslim kid' and think that was okay?" I ask her.

"Well, what would you call him?" Magnolia asks.

My eyes widen. "God, how are we even related?" I ask her. I shake my head as I start walking away. I stop and turn back to look at Magnolia and Mom. "And I would call him by his name. It's not that fucking hard."

"Go to your room. Now," Mom says.

"Whatever," I mutter as I walk up the steps. I slam the room to my door and fall onto my bed.

I really don't recognize who I am anymore. I've never yelled or sworn at my sister and mom before. And I've never gotten in trouble before. But I don't regret any of it. My sister said horrible things. I've never gotten along well with her. She always acts or says things that just get me. And I never said anything.

But I said something today and it felt really good. I have no clue who I am anymore, but maybe today is showing me who I am. And I like the new me.